Part 1

NCC-19846 USS Insurgence

Sector 045

On station – The Neutral Zone

'Captain's log. Star date 46676.4

We have just completed another scan of the Neutral zone and the readings are increasingly erratic and puzzling. The Romulans seem to have increased their patrols on the far side of the neutral zone, every hour another signal is detected, but it disappears a few minutes later as it passes out of range. We reported this back to Starfleet command, - again - and they have ordered us to maintain a communications black out for the next few hours, and power down all non-essential systems. If they are scanning for anything on our side, we should appear as nothing more than a blip. But just to be absolutely certain, I've ordered Ensign Eraiel to place us in the shadow of one of the larger asteroids. This should hopefully help shield our signature and make the Romulans believe we have moved on.

A few radiation anomalies within the Neutral Zone have piqued the interest of Lieutenant Hitchens, my science officer. After a bit of deliberation, we decided to launch a class 1 probe into the Neutral Zone with passive sensors only. It was programmed to return within five hours. We won't be able to verify the scans until we recover the probe, but hopefully it will provide us with some interesting readings to study on the trip home.

On a personal note, the last few weeks have begun to drag, and though moral remains high, I'm sure the crew will be thankful for the week's shore leave that will be waiting for us when we return to star base twenty five. I'll admit I am looking forward to it myself.

The recording ended, the data saved, and the screen on the monitor blinked off, the star fleet insignia appearing on the black background. Captain Rex Colbert, commanding officer of the Miranda Class Frigate USS Insurgence, stood in front of the view port of his ready room and looked out at the twinkling stars beyond, his right arm outstretched and leaning against the window frame. The lights were dimmed in the captain's private office, a cold cup of coffee rested beside the monitor, and data pads with the days hourly reports were scattered across the desk.

His brow creased as he felt a cold sensation spreading through his body. For seven weeks they had been patrolling the borders of the Neutral Zone. Day after day, and hour after hour, the sensor screens had shown nothing except the regular patrols that passed through the system, small scout ships buzzing the edges of the no-fly zone. Occasionally, sensors would pick up small anomalies crossing the neutral zone, insignificant amounts of radiation or unknown metallic signals. Most were explained with visual displays: bits of debris floating from the abandoned hulks left floating in the asteroid belt, or even stray asteroids themselves, knocked out of place by the larger, more volatile boulders.

But Rex knew that there was something else happening. Across the vast empty void, beyond the no-fly zone, he could almost feel the Romulans staring back at him, watching and waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

The uneasy peace had lasted for years, and many in star fleet had even come to regard the Romulans as nothing more than an annoyance, a troublesome race that needed constant attention to prevent them from causing mischief. But Rex knew otherwise. He had seen the brutality of the Romulans first hand. The memories would always be with him, and there was nothing in the galaxy that would ever make him forgive them for what they had done to him.

Without even realising he had done it, he felt his right hand closing around his left forearm, and as he tightened his grip, he could feel the raised, jagged scars that dug deep into his skin. The pain of them flooded his mind with memories, as fresh today as they had all those years ago. His green eyes flared with anger and hatred. He glared out through the view port and found himself staring at his own reflection, unable to recognise the brown haired stranger who looked back at him. The jaw was stained with a few days growth of hair, and the dark eyes were hidden behind a heavily furrowed brow. His hand grew tighter and tighter, and he could feel his heart rate begin to race as the anger bubbled up inside him, dragging him under waves of pain that seemed to suffocate him. It was almost too much...

A soft chirp burst from the speakers hidden in the ceiling of the ready room as the computer warned him to a presence outside the door. He gasped heavily for breath, as though the sound had awakened him from a nightmare, dragging out of the drowning feeling of his own pain. His eyes widened and he stared out at his own reflection again. He recognised it now. Looking away, he pinched the bridge of his nose and clamped his eyes tight shut, forcing the memories to the back of his mind. Taking deep breaths, he slowed his heart and steadied his breathing. Running his fingers through his hair, he brushed away the cold sweat that had beaded across his brow and exhaled slowly.

The chimes rang again, and with a final glance out of the view port, he sighed heavily and turned away from the starscape beyond. Tugging the hem of his jacket to straighten out the creases, he walked towards the desk and stood behind it.

'Come,' he said clearly, giving the signal for the computer to open the doors to his office.

With the familiar swish sound he had become accustomed to – almost like the sound of someone pulling a sheet of paper out of an envelope – the door slid aside into the recessed wall, revealing a tall, blonde haired woman beyond.

'What can I do for you, commander?' he asked casually, sitting down in his chair and burying everything beneath the controlled front he had spent years mastering. To everyone, he was the calm, level headed commander of the ship. They would never know about the turmoil that existed beneath.

The young woman who stood in front of him had been his first officer for over six months, and had come with a list of recommendations longer than his arm. She was tall, slim, and stood with a back straighter than the bulkheads around him. Her piercing blue eyes looked impatiently back at him, her short, blonde hair hanging neatly around her face, with only the tips of her pointed ears breaking the golden sheen. It was the only hint to her unusual parentage, that and her logical, cold demeanour. She was, after all, half Vulcan.

Excelling at the academy and at every posting she had ever received, Commander Jean Akerman was an exemplary officer. Though she could have done with a bit more people skills.

'I have a request from engineering for you, sir,' she said crisply, her arm appearing from behind her back, a data pad held firmly in her hand.

'What does the Chief want now?' Rex said with a soft smile on his face.

'Lieutenant Prior has requested your permission to begin a level five diagnostic of the antimatter injector assembly, now that the warp engines are powered down for a few hours. Seems they are running a bit hot since the last service.' She leaned forwards and handed him the data pad. He gave it a quick look and Akerman stood silently waiting for his response.

It was true, the antimatter injectors were running at a ridiculously high rate since they had last been to space dock. The ship was older than most, the Miranda class a relic from the times of the great captain Kirk. And Rex was certain that the antimatter system had not been upgraded for at least five years.

'Very well,' Rex said finally. 'Probably a good idea. Help keep the crew distracted a while, I expect.' He scrawled his consent across the screen of the data pad and handed it back to his first officer, Jean taking it with a distinct unimpressed look on her face. Rex reclined back in his seat and watched as she was about to turn and leave. 'You do not agree with the Chief, Commander?'

'Permission to speak freely, sir?' she said sharply. He was used to that question.

'Of course,' he said with a nod.

'Taking the antimatter injectors offline anywhere other than space dock is a dangerous decision, more so here, so close to the Neutral Zone,' she said quickly. 'Should we come under attack, we shall be vastly underpowered and unable to jump to warp.'

'Very true, commander,' Rex said gently. 'However, if we do not take advantage of this opportunity to accurately assess the problem, we could run the risk of overheating the entire system and if that was to blow during warp, we would be in a lot more trouble.'

Akerman glared back at him, obviously wanting to argue, but her respect for command preventing her from doing so. He sighed.

'However, I shall note your concerns in the ship's log.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Inform the crew, and feel free to monitor the diagnostic yourself if it will ease your mind. Dismissed, commander,' Rex said with a smile. Akerman stood to attention before turning and leaving the ready room, the door silently opening and closing again behind her.

As the door sealed, and he was left alone with his thoughts once more, his brow, which had been raised in a happy smile fell once more, creasing at the centre and a haunted look sweeping over his eyes. He looked back over his shoulder out through the view port once more, and he could feel the familiar sensation of being watched from beyond the void. He knew that the memories would begin to surface once more, and the battle between his past and the present would begin anew. Sighing, he braced himself for the struggle, and began to work through the hourly reports that still cluttered his desk.

'The Captain has ordered a level five diagnostic of the antimatter injection system. I am on my way down to engineering to oversee the procedure. Mister G'rahm, you have the bridge,' Commander Akerman said as she stepped out from the Captain's ready room and strided swiftly across the bridge towards the turbo lift. She said it all in one rapid breath, but with enough growl in her voice for the whole bridge to detect her irritation with the idea.

'Aye, sir,' Trace G'rahm said quickly, barely getting his reply out before she stepped into the turbo lift and vanished behind the closing doors. He listened to the turbo lift racing away, the two small antennae on top of his head swivelling towards the closed doors. It soon fell silent, and he locked his post at the tactical station and crossed the bridge towards the chair that sat on a raised platform at the centre. Turning the chair towards him, he lowered himself into the seat and then restored it to its neutral position, facing the main viewer.

Lieutenant Commander Trace G'rahm sat watching the Neutral Zone stretched out in front of the ship, an invisible line only a few hundred kilometres ahead of them marking the boundary of the no-fly zone between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. At the top of the view screen he could see the outcropping of stone that leaned out over the ship, giving them cover and hiding them from any possible sensor sweeps. It didn't feel natural to be hiding, but he could see the strategic advantages of their current deception.

Andorians were naturally aggressive, Trace would be the first to admit to that. But they were also profoundly paranoid about others motives, and this made them especially adept to security posts, and at anticipating the movements of enemies and sources of possible attack. Trace activated the small screen recessed into the arm of the captain's chair and began flicking through the last few scans of the Neutral Zone. With only passive scans at his disposal, there was not much that the ship could detect. But it was enough to mark out anything that might be big enough to pose a threat.

For now, there was nothing.

The lights were dimmed all across the ship, and the bridge was bathed in a dull orange light. With the communications black out and non-essential systems powered down, it seemed only right that most of the lights should be dimmed as well. After all, if they were trying to stay hidden, what was the point hiding from the sensors if all someone had to do was look out of a view port and see all their lights shining from inside an asteroid cave.

Hiding in the cave did, however, produce its own set of problems. By parking themselves inside this mass of rock, they were blinding themselves to anything that might come from behind them. The rock was too thick for the passive sensors to penetrate, and there was only so far around they could make them reach.

Trace never liked having a blindspot. It showed up on the sensor screens as a grey segment of nothingness. It flickered back at him, taunting him, hiding what he could not see. He knew that this side of the Neutral Zone was part of the Federation, and that in theory there was nothing behind them that should attack them. The enemy was all on the other side of the Neutral Zone, directly in front of them.

But that little bit of logic was no comfort to him, as this region of space was known for large quantities of pirate traffic and smugglers. And in the past few weeks a unsettling number of unknown radiation sources had been detected floating in the middle of the no-fly zone. Some people found that interesting, but to an Andorian, it just stank of danger.

Tapping the screen once more, he accessed another file, and a counter appeared on the small monitor beside him. It was counting down in hours, minutes and seconds. And it currently read:

4 hours 6 minutes 15 seconds.

That was how long they had until the class one probe returned to their side of the neutral zone and they would be able to pull it back in using the tractor beams. It had been a risky idea when it had been suggested. After all, nothing was supposed to enter the Neutral Zone from either side, and any violation of this rule would be classed as an act of aggression towards the other. But as Trace had pointed out during the meeting, the rewards far outweighed the risks, and it was easy enough to claim that no actual violation had occurred as no "ship" had crossed the line.

It was a grey area, legally, but Trace thought the risk was minimal.

Closing down the screen, he continued with his checks around the ship, bringing up external and internal sensors one after the other. Everything was quiet.

A soft chirp echoed from the ceiling, and a young, confident voice chimed in almost immediately.

'Engineering to bridge,' the voice said. Trace smiled a knowing grin. It was the voice of the chief engineer, one of the few humans he had ever met who had the ability to make even an Andorian smile. Trace reached up to his chest and tapped the communicator on his chest, the channel opening with an electronic glitch.

'Go ahead, Chief,' he said clearly.

'We are ready to power down the antimatter injectors and begin our diagnostic,' the chief said happily. 'You'll probably experience a moments sensor blackout as the back-up power takes over the main systems. Without the injectors the core will be mostly deactivated.'

'Thank you, Chief,' Trace replied, knowing that the first officer was probably standing right behind the chief, watching his every move over his shoulder. And the best bit was that the chief was probably loving every minute of it.

He liked nothing more than to get under her skin. Trace turned to look up at the communications officer.

'Inform the crew,' he said simply. The communications officer nodded and tapped at the controls, opening a ship wide channel.

'Attention all hands, this is the bridge. Commencing level five diagnostic on the antimatter injectors. Prepare for full power down. Shut down all non-essential systems. All emergency systems will now transfer to back up power.' Trace smiled and tapped the communicator on his chest once more.

'Bridge to Engineering, Proceed when ready.'

'Pulling the injectors... Now.'

The lights around the bridge dimmed and the screens flickered for a moment as they switched to the back up power system. Trace looked down at the monitor beside him and his brow furrowed in confusion. In the top left of the screen, where moments before there had been nothing, a small dot had appeared. The screen continued to flicker as the back up power adjusted and settled, each time, the dot changed position.

When the systems finally evened out, the screen flickered once more and the contact vanished completely, the screen once again showing the vast sweeping expanse of nothing. But he had seen it, and as he looked up from the monitor to the main viewer, he had a tightening feeling in his stomach that something was coming.