Act 1

His body slumped against the console, his arms barely holding his weight as he leaned against the interface. He could feel the freezing, yet burning sensation of the nanites worming their way through him, cutting deeply into his veins. The whirring of the drone sounded behind him as it withdrew the tubules that had sliced through flesh, muscles and veins.

The violation, the realization that he had been invaded by foreign objects, seemed to burn a rage through him. It took some doing, but he turned to the drone that had stepped back once, and was reaching out with another arm. No doubt to transport him to the Borg sphere, the one his ship was on a ramming course towards. To become one of millions of thoughtless, mindless drones.

No! He leaped at the drone, his pain forgotten even as he began to feel his upper arm and shoulder began to go numb. The drone fell backwards against the unexpected assault. Was that surprise he saw in the drones eyes?

His good hand grabbed the hose that connected the Borg's eyepiece to the torso. His fingers wrapped around it, hate and rage fueling through him. He was not going to become a drone! He was going to return home and be with Leslie, the woman he loved! No! The hand ripped outwards, and the drone began to seizure violently as sparks flew from the torn hose.

No! The ship rumbled as fire hit it, and even as he savaged the Borg drone, slamming again and again on it, fury driving all thoughts from his mind, he was going to slam his ship into the Borg, killing them all!

James Enviro, science officer of the USS Perspective, was awakened by the sudden slamming of the ship. He was upended, thrown in an awkward arc up over his mattress and his mind hadn't even processed that he was moving before he slammed down, hard against the floor.

"Damage report!" he cried out, unable to move as his body was still stuck in the paralytically state of slumber. "Did we destroy the Borg ship?"

He lay on the floor, and no report came. He blinked and looked around…..where was he? Where were the Conn and Flight stations? Why was there a potted plant that was leaning precariously against the wall by its edge, somehow not having fallen from the impact.

His eyes swept along the floor, to see a fallen table, books scattered all over the floor. His boots had also been thrown against the wall. That made no sense. Why was his boots thrown against the wall? Wouldn't they be on his feet?

James shifted his arms to under him, and pushed up, until he was sitting back on his calves. Why was he in taupe colored pajamas? Where was his phaser? What was the door doing right there? There should have been a viewport, showing the Borg sphere they had just rammed. His eyes roved around him, frowning at the alien scene. These quarters, were they his?

What in the name of Hell is going on here? He wondered in bewilderment. Is this how I see heaven? Have I died and gone to the afterlife? Or was that whole Borg thing a dream?

The Lieutenant Commanders arm felt stiff, so he raised he. His eyes narrowed as he saw the bracelet laced around his arm. It looked Borg, but how did he get it?

"All senior staff," a woman's voice called over the intercom system. "Please report to the Conference Room. Commander Enviro, go to transporter room one and meet with Z'org there."

Z'org? James wondered to himself. Who is Z'org…

He had barely thought that when suddenly a lightbulb seemed to go off in his mind. No, he wasn't on the Perspective, this was the Wayne. He had survived ramming the Borg sphere. It was months in the past. He was now Commander, not Lieutenant Commander, and he was First Officer of the Wayne.

"Commander Enviro?" the woman, Captain Lillian Traz called over the comm. "Are you alright?"

"Yes I am," he said apologetically. "I got a little jogged by….whatever happened. I'll meet the Lieutenant Commander in transporter room one."


"What happened?" Judy Ziz asked, poking her head out of her quarters as James Enviro walked by. He looked especially disheveled, which was only to be expected from how everyone had been thrown around.

"Have no idea, Councilor," he replied, reaching up and running through his hair, trying to comb it as best as he could.

She stepped outside into the hallway, falling into step beside him. She pulled at the straps of her more civilian style clothing, tightening it around her petite frame. She hadn't exactly had time to change into a uniform from her night gown, as the Captain had sounded most urgent in her request for all the senior staff to make it to the Conference Room.

"Sure a heck of a way to wake up," she remarked, the Human towering over her by a head and neck.

"I'm actually glad," he remarked, stepping up to the turbolift. They halted for just a second, until the lift obediently opened up, allowing them access to the cylindrical car.

"Oh?" the Trill asked, stepping in behind him. "Bridge."

The computer beeped once to acknowledge the request. "Deck 15," the First Officer called to the computer. The computer beeped again and at once began to descend. Most people wouldn't feel it, but Trills, especially joined ones like her, were far more sensitive to gravity shifts caused by descending and ascending lift, shuttles and whatnot. And the more hosts one had acquired, the more pronounced the changes were. And with her currently on her sixth host, it was quite noticeable.

"I was having a pretty bad nightmare," he said, in a moment of unguarded honesty that the Commander very rarely displayed. He was guarded at all times; refusing to give way to his inner-most thoughts and feelings. "So being so violently awoken was a good thing."

"What was the nightmare about?" she asked, "My third host, Gaveree Ziz, was all into reading dreams and I am not so bad at it myself."

The Commander glanced sideways and down at her, his eyes narrowing. She held her eyes, keeping as easy an air about it as she could. His suspicious stare did nothing to dissuade her from looking away.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Sir?" she asked innocently.

"Don't pretend like you don't know," he dismissed her act of innocence. "I'm not going to open up to you. Talk about my feelings, certainly not on a turbolift."

"So that means that we can schedule an appointment?" she asked, a big smile spread across her face. She automatically brought up to mind her schedule for the day. Judy wasn't exactly one of those with a photographic memory, but she had a very good memory for things that were written down. She had always assumed it had actually come from a previous host, perhaps General Adha Ziz, who had a pretty good eye for details, as she had never been too overly concerned about remembering such things before her Joining. "I can schedule you in after Crewman…."

"No," he said shortly, the lift coming to a slow stop. The door opened and he stepped out, leaving the Councilor all by herself.

The Trill woman shrugged. She knew that he has been ordered to visit with her and despite the fact that it had been a full month since he had first come on board, she was willing to wait for a little while longer before getting the Captain involved.

The lift began to ascend, and she leaned back. Only then, with her back against the durasteel frame, did she realize her fingers were drumming on her leg and she assumed had been doing so since she first stepped into the lift with the First Officer.

Okay, you can stop it now Ziz, she commanded through thought. He's gone.

The symbiont sent her an impression of thought, its understanding if not it's reluctance. It liked making sure that the other hosts were represented as much as possible in her life, but Judy was a woman all her own, even with the worm (as her human friend Jennifer Rice called it) inside of her.

The fingers stopped drumming.


Captain Lillian Traz sat at the Conference table, staring down at the hot chocolate cup in front of her. It was steaming hot, but unlike her colleagues who preferred caffeinated beverages to wake up, she had no need of coffee to wake her up. No, she was actually pretty pissed, and the surge of emotions acted as adrenaline.

She had been having the most wonderful dream before being so rudely awoken by her falling on the floor. In it, she had just been approached by Toby Maguire, wearing his Spider-man suit from the Sam Rami flatvid Spiderman Trilogy movies and had asked her out. She had always loved the Toby Maguire Spider-man over the ones that followed so she had been eager to say yes.

But….she didn't even get a chance! Oh no, she was awoken to find herself on the floor, her head somehow becoming wedge between her nightstand and bedframe. Luckily, she was far more agile and clear-minded than most people, and had been able to easily get her head out of that tight space. Even though it cost her a number of long hairs from her gorgeous head of dark brown hair!

The others already gathered at the table sensed her foul mood, so they didn't bug her with useless questions. Although she could sense that Mila Greks, her redoubtable Chief Science Officer and Second Officer was also rather put out by being forced awake. The Greek woman had never been one for rising earlier then the regular 0700 hours.

"Morning everyone!" a cheerful voice said, her Trill Diplomatic Officer stepping into the room. "Ready for a nice day?"

"Councilor," the Captain said in a low growl, one that was most unbecoming a lady. "If you don't sit down and shut up, I will have the Gorn throw you in the brig!"

The Trill laughed! The gall of the woman! Lillian stabbed daggers with her eyes as the other woman took her seat, sitting on her left hand two seats down. She lifted the cup, continuing to glare at the younger woman and put it to her lips. She sipped ever so little, as it was still hot. The fire of the hot liquid spilled down her gullet, warming her insides.

Doctor T'Lal, the Vulcan Chief Medical Officer was seated as well, next to the Science Officer. She looked too chipper for someone who had woken up! Captain Traz couldn't tell if she was trying to mock the Humans in the room by how composed she was. Sure, she wasn't human herself, she was Betazoid, but all she had to do was reach out with her far more developed empathic abilities to feel the other woman's cool and seemingly smug detachment.

The doors opened and in stepped the civilian garbed James Enviro. And her eyes widened at what she saw. He was wearing a shirt that he had forgotten to button in his haste to follow her commands to get to the transporter room, and she saw a row of nearly perfectly symmetrical abs. There was no hair to be seen as her eyes flicked up to his broad chest, she didn't even mind the small piece of Borg tech implants that could be seen centimeters above where his heart was. She lifted her cup to her lips and sipped a little too much. She grunted as she drank too much, burning the roof of her mouth.

Did he really have to see me like this? She asked herself. She knew her hair was out of place and there was the matter of the few hairs that were now gone, caught where the legs of the nightstand connected with the base of that piece of furniture.

Yet what she saw following him completely made her embarrassment rush out, replaced by annoyance. Two Romulans, both male and of similar height to her first officer, walked behind him. They were wearing the heavy grey woolen cloth of Romulan civilians, but the one who was evidently the leader, the one who walked behind, was exuding a near boyish excitement. It hit her empathic senses like a tidal wave.

That pissed her off even more. What right did he have to be excited? He nearly crashed her ship! The USS Wayne had only received three torpedoes hits that had passed the shields in the entire seven years of her command and this Romulan fool nearly put a hole in her ship! It made her feel not in the slightest bit better as her Gorn Tactical and Security Chief Z'org stalked behind them, the raptor needing no one else to keep these two in line.

"Captain Lillian Traz," her First Officer said, flourishing his hand outwards to her. "Let me introduce Antonius" he indicated the first man, "and Alaric."

"Captain Traz!" Alaric said, a big and wild smile on his face. "I can't tell you how glad I am to meet-"

"Sit down."

The two Romulans glanced at each other, clearly surprised that a Federation Captain would be anything less than the vision of serenity. Yet that did nothing to stop them from sitting down. Although they did so as if expecting an explosive device to go off at any second.

"What is the matter with you two?" Traz asked, giving them her most sternest glare.

"What the Captain means," James said, swiveling his own chair around so he could sit. "Is what are you doing in Federation territory without permission? I assume that's why we received no prior word of your arrival."

"More importantly," Traz snarled, "Why did you nearly run into my ship? You would have been flattened like a pancake and there would have been a massive hole in my ship!"

She felt her First Officer more then saw him sighing with exasperation. The Romulans looked puzzled, and she was annoyed by that. Annoyed by the fact that they were puzzled by it! And that their puzzlement made her puzzled!

"'Flattened like a pancake'?" Antonius asked with a frown.

"It's an Earth expression," Councilor Ziz explained. She was sitting the closest to them, as they had seated themselves close to her. "Pancakes are an Earth delicacy. They are pretty flat, so when they say, 'flattened like a pancake'…."

"Ah!" the Romulan leader, the one named Alaric exclaimed, understanding lighting up his face. "The Romulan equivalent is 'Noregh she'I' as you would translate it as, 'Reman flatness'. Understood. And I do apologize for the need to decloak right in-front of your ship. I sincerely hope that my ship's sudden appearance wasn't a problem. I would hate to think it caused any inconvenience."

"I find it illogical that you needed to decloak so close to the front of the ship," the Vulcan interjected before the Captain could make a snide comment. "You do realize that starships are not meant to break so hard from anything over one quarter impulse. It causes injuries."

"Injuries?" Antonius asked, frowning. He leaned forward, lacing his fingers as he did so.

"Sixteen crewmembers reported to my sickbay with fractured bones and another two dozen from injuries including lacerations sustained by the highspeed deceleration of the ship," the Vulcan doctor reported, reading it as if it were a menu she was ordering from.

The Romulan's face turned into a scowl, the motion having the absurd effect of making his protruding brow seeming to grow more. Although, Captain Traz probably could chalk it up to how tired she was. The Romulan turned to face the other one, who had a look of 'oops' on his face.

"Didn't I warn you not to have us do that so closely to this ship?" he said angrily. "But you said 'oh no, Antonius, don't be such a whiny little Reman'. You said no one could get hurt because of them being Federation ships!"

"But we still got their attention," Alarich rejoined defensively.

"That still doesn't explain why you needed our attention in the first place!" Traz said, cutting into the argument the two men were about to start having. "So let me ask you again, and please feel free to actually answer this time. What are you doing here in Federation space?"

Alarich gave a broad smile, one that spoke of only the best intentions. One that was meant to be disarming and put her at ease. And she hated it. Romulan smugness had never sat well with her, no matter if it was meant in good faith.

"My full name and rank is Scholar Imperator Alarich le'tr Honorius," he said in an exaggerated way. Always keeping the cheerful mood in his voice. "I am head of the Historical Society on Romulus. I am…."

"You wrote 'Eagles and Raptors: A Study of the Similarities of the Romulan Star Empire and Earth's Roman Empire'," Commander Enviro interrupted him, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open in an astonishing mixture of surprise and delight.

The Romulan's broad grin dropped in an explosion of surprise from himself. "You, a Terran? You read my book?" he asked in no amount of incredulousness. "I didn't think people outside the Empire read my works."

"I actually have subscribed to the Romulan Heeshva Neet'let Ru," the Commander said. "I must say, I am more than honored to have you onboard our ship. I understand that your newest work is exploring how Iconia actually helped bring about the Great Schism."

"A Terran who reads the Romulan Archeological monthly publication," the Romulan said, putting a hand on his friends' shoulder and shaking him slightly. "See, Antonius? He can even help us in our research!"

"You've come here to explore the Iconian culture?" James asked. "They had no powerbase in this sector. The closest they ever came here was the edge of the Neutral Zone. And that's quiet a few light years from here."

"The below planet used to be owned by the Romulans as you know," the Romulan replied, waving his hand in a grand but vague gesture to where the planet would be in relation to the ship…..even though the windows to the conference room were currently showing nothing but the many, many stars beyond this particular system and that was where he was waving.

"Yesssss," the Gorn said, hissing the 's' as was his wont. "You pale sssskinssss claim everything was yourssss."

The younger Romulan turned glare at the Raptor, but the older man acted as if he hadn't heard. "When the Empire was at its height, a thousand years ago," he explained, "The different branches of government and head of the each division of public works was run on a different world. The Senate was located on Romulus. The military command was run out of Remes. The Tal Shiar was run off of another planet all together. The banks was located on a separate planet all its own.'

"The Imperial Library, one of the largest libraries ever seen in the galaxy, was located on the planet you call Yallada Prime. We called it Trelad back in the day. When the First Earth War, as you call the Romulan War came to an end in the 22nd Century, we agreed to surrender our right to many planets. Trelad was one of them. The people at the time didn't see the need to retrieve the library or the vast knowledge stored there. By that time, many of the agencies had started to concentrate their efforts on Romulus, but the Imperial Library was not one of them. Oh, they assumed that the new Library, the Romulan Central Database would be fine just using what was on personal data devices and new works being written. A lot of knowledge was lost when we abandoned the Library."

Mila frowned. "What you are saying is that a ton of knowledge is down below on the surface?" she asked, the Science Officer looking as if she was unable to accept that something of such massive scientific importance could be so easily disregarded by any race.

"Most specifically, the largest and most complete data collection on Iconia ever to be found," Antonius interjected before his boss could say anything more. "Even complete technical details and blueprints on the Iconia Gates."

"Are you serious!" James exclaimed, nearly jumping to his feet in his excitement.

Lillian looked at her first officer and saw the light in his eyes. The passion at what they were talking about. It was actually kinda cute to see him so wrapped up and engaged in what they were talking about. Yet, she knew that they hadn't yet completely answered her question.

"So what did you expect would happen if you dropped out of warp right infront of us?" she asked them.

"We wish to be allowed to go to the surface and find the Imperial Library. We understand that you are a group that it's easier to ask forgiveness then permission," Alarich said and he pulled out a PADD from a pocket in his grey tunic. "This is permission from the ProConsul Manet which gives me authority to share all data we uncover from the site regarding the Iconians and anything else we might discover."

He handed it over to James, who took it and handed it over with a twirl to the Captain. The Captain lifted the cup of coco to her lips, noting with disgust as she sipped that it had gone cold, taking on a consistency of light mud. The Romulans had even wasted her drink! There were several colorful phrases she could think of using in context of these filthy sneaky Romulans.

"We will of course be happy to agree to allow you," James said. "I'd also like to join you as well. I have always loved the Iconian Race. I remember reading the Eleventh Emperor Ajax Achilles' book The Iconian Wars and it filled my dreams with fire and glory that nothing else ever had."

"If you liked the Emperor's book," the other Romulan was saying, "I could loan you my copy of Iconian Shadows. Praetor Batts I feel had a greater understanding of the impact of Iconia on the entire Quadrant. I would also suggest….."

It was only as they spoke that she realized that her second in command was talking about allowing them to do so. She had not approved it, it was her job to give approval. Her First Officer should have waited to have her give approval. Not do so himself, no matter how excited he was about something.

That would never do.

"I'm sorry," Lillian said sharply, cutting them both off. "I must first consult with Starfleet Command before I can agree to this. We need to see if they are equally as accepting of the idea as my First Officer is."

An unsteady silence fell over the table, as the Starfleet personnel realized that Commander Enviro had overstepped his boundaries. Everyone except T'Lal and Z'org. The Vulcan was staring intently at the Scholar Imperator and the Gorn seemed bored, his head dropped very slightly in a stupor. He had never been one who could keep interested in long periods of exposition.

"In the mean-time," Traz said, "You can stay on the Wayne while I contact Starfleet Command and see if they will grant permission. In the meantime…"

"Not to be rude," Alarich interjected, holding up his hands. "We can just return to our ship. We don't wish to be an inconvenience."

"I insist," Traz said, her eyes narrowing. She was in no mood to be back-talked by these individuals, Romulans though they were. "Mister Z'org, see to it that out guests find their way to quest quarters."

"My pleasure, Captain," the Gorn hissed.

Alarich and Antonius rose, looking nervously towards the Gorn. He pointed towards the door and they shuffled on out, leaving the Starfleet personnel alone. Captain Traz waited until the door to the conference room had been closed before turning to address her senior staff.

"T'Lal," she began, "I want you to make sure that all people that were hurt are able to return to their posts as soon as possible. Councilor, see to it that our Romulan guests don't do anything foolish. Mr. Sele, if there is indeed a library down there, I want enough free data space on this ship to store as much possible data as we can. Let's get to it."

The officers began to rise but she fixed James Enviro with a look that told him he was not to leave. The others sensed this but left as hurried as they could. They didn't want to get wrapped up with whatever was going to happen. They held each other's gaze until the doors slid shut and they were alone.

Even then, they sat there, the moment stretching into something far more uncomfortable. But her First Officer didn't look away. He kept himself back erect. Under any other circumstance, she may have found it admirable. But now, she was simply not in a mood to be flattered, not even by his exposed and well-toned chest.

"I would have expected the sudden lack of decorum from a recent graduate of the Academy, but not from you," she said solemnly. "Commander, I understand that this is something of a fascination with what you have heard. I understand that finding an opportunity to be with something of an idol can be intimidating. But I am in command of this ship, and something like this needs me to give the permission. Not you."

"Forgive me, ma'am," he said, his face indeed showing his apologies. "I won't allow myself to be carried away. It's your right to make these calls."

"I'm not some ancient Earth SJW who feels that I am entitled," she explained. "This isn't about what's my right or not. Those two men? They are Romulans. Ever since the Shinzon Crises, it's been one bad thing after another with them. The Second Romulan War was only a few years back, and a lot of good people died in it. Simply put, this has much more dramatic geopolitical ramifications if we allow these people from a hostile enemy nation in our borders."

"I meant no disrespect, Captain," the Commander held up his hands towards her in acquiesce to her will. "I will try to keep my emotions in check."

"I'm not a Vulcan," she gave a half-smile. "Emotions are indeed welcome."