As you step off the turbolift and onto the bridge of the Enterprise D, you can feel an electricity like you automatically connect to a livewire that cables through the two-tiered room as soon as your foot crosses the threshold. All paths lead to one individual who sits at a chair, which bristles with controls just behind helm on the lower tier. Captain Picard leans in for close counsel from Commander William T. Riker, his second in command. On Picard's left sits the sapient and statuesque Counselor Deanna Troi, a half-Betazoid with the telepathic ability to read emotions. She turns in her chair to raise a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Wes and Anna who struggle on the second-tier at an engineering panel to set up their quantum computer. Sensing the raw emotions between the two young cadets, Deanna's full lips curl into a smile and she gives Captain Picard a subtle acknowledgement. Picard cracks the glass of his usual staid expression with a slight smile.

The nebula, a dark rimmed cloud, sits silently on the big display. Picard eyes the image before he says, "Mr. Worf, hail the Vulcan research team."

"Hailing frequencies open, captain," Worf says in his deep, gravelly voice.

"Tevic, is your team ready to receive telemetry from the modified probe?"

Tevic responds in his clear, monotone voice, "our instruments are calibrated and open to receive."

"Acknowledged. Picard out." Picard straightens his uniform. "Mr. Worf, is the probe ready to launch?"

Worf, standing at attention, nods, "Ay Captain, the class three probe is ready."

"Launch on my mark."

"Pardon, Captain," Wesley is kneeling at the engineering station with the panel removed and a nest of cables spilling onto the floor. "Could we have a moment to connect our data collector?"

Captain Picard sets his jaw. "You have five minutes, Mr. Crusher."

"Thank you sir." Wesley's hands work quickly as he sorts through the cabling. Anna's hunched over the quantum computer, frantically typing.

Anna whispers, "why the hell didn't you preconfigure the patch?"

Wes shakes his head, "I found the interface. Hand me the cable link."

Anna slides open a compartment, rifling through the connectors. She picks one out and hands it down to Wes.

"What? No, this is the LDN adapter. Don't you know the difference between the LDN and the isolinear extension?" He hands it back shaking his head.

Anna finds another adaptor for Wes. "Well, maybe if you organized the kit as I had asked, we wouldn't have to search every single time." She hisses.

"Hey, this is your computer. You should know what's what." He connects the extension. The cable lights up a soft blue down the length. Anna threads it into the computer.

Anna clicks out a sequence on the screen. It blinks a blank command line. "The patch isn't adhering." She taps out the sequence again; same result. "You don't have the right connection." She kneels down.

Wes rises to the computer. He huffs, "No, you're not using the right algorithm, I bet. Just like in the beta trials."

Picard peers at Counselor Troi and shakes his head. Troi cannot help but smile. She leans over to whisper, "Opposites attract." Picard's face tenses in even further irritation.

Picard growls, "Mr. Crusher, if you please."

"Almost there, Captain." Wes shakes his head, miffed. He says to Anna, "I don't understand. This should be the same patch we used in engineering. Nothing's changed."

Anna's brow is severe as she traces cables from the engineering panel to the computer. "Well clearly, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about." Her voice is like a silent whip that lashes into Wesley.

He slams his hands on the keypad of the quantum computer. "What did you say?" He bends over Anna and says, "You are rude and intractable. I hope your dissertation is rejected!" Anna drops the cable nest and stands abruptly, drawing side glances from the crew.

An alert chimes on Data's console at the left helm position. "Captain, I'm detecting an unusual disturbance emanating from the nebula."

"On screen." Picard straightens in his chair.

Wes' attention swivels to the screen as Anna's eyes swell with tears. She says, "You dare!" Her lips tremble. "How dare you."

Commander William T. Riker eyes the nebulous formation on screen and asks, "What are the Vulcans reading?"

Anna's lower lip trembles. She says to Wesley, "Look at me."

Worf chimes in, "Tevic has registered it as a foreign object about the size of a battle cruiser."

Picard cuts in, "I'm not taking any chances. Shields up. Yellow alert."

Anna, tears streaming down her cheeks, says to Wesley, "Look at me." Wes is distracted by the swelling nebulous on screen. Anna's jaw sets and she screams a message into Wes' brain that repeats in a feedback loop, 'lookatmelovemehateme, lookatmehatemeloveme, lookatmelovemehateme, lookatmehatemeloveme'. Wesley cries out and crumples to the floor with his hands over his ears. He begins to paw helplessly at the floor.

Counselor Troi gasps. Her face twists in agony. She leans forward in her chair and cradles her head as the psychic distortion crashes into her mind like a menacing ocean wave. Startled, Picard grips Deanna's arm. Riker scrambles to his feet. He bellows, "Mr. Data, status of the object."

Picard twists to see Wesley convulsing on the second tier as he holds Deanna from tumbling out of her chair. "Picard to sickbay. We have two unknown injuries-"

Deanna unfolds her body and yells, "Anna, stop it!"

Tears roll down Anna's blister red cheeks as a steady stream of consciousness enfolds and crushes Wesley's mind. Her concentration is broken as Troi sends a thunderous message that is otherwise silent. 'Let go'!

Anna blinks, stunned at the force. She takes in a tremulous breath and looks down at Deanna's stern gaze. Their minds are connected now.

Troi continues, 'Listen to me: slow your mind. Anna, release him.' Wesley rolls onto his back with an exhale.

Anna's cheeks are flushed red from the encounter. In a small voice she says, "I'm- I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

Picard, realizing Deanna has recovered, states in a concise voice, "Counselor, get those two off my bridge."

You observe Anna on her knees, eyes closed. Her hands cover her mouth and she is frozen in time like a stone angel. Counselor Troi sits on the edge of a chaise lounge with her legs and arms crossed. You describe the mood written on her face as calm and resigned. Troi takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. Her soft lips part as she exhales. 'Anna', Troi telegraphs via her mind, 'can you hear me'? Anna's eyes shoot open, and regard Troi with suspicion tinged with anger. 'I can feel that you can, but you block me. Please trust me'.

"Counselor," Anna shields her eyes now, "please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Her breath is rapid. "I'm sorry," she whispers. 'I'M SORRY'! Anna's message nearly knocks Troi to the ground. She grimaces at the force of the psychic impact.

'It's ok. Let me help'.

Anna clasps her now sweaty palms over her ears and rocks back and forth on her haunches. She shakes her head vigorously to indicate never.

"Anna," Counselor Troi clears her throat. "Slow down." She lowers to the floor. "Follow my voice: close your eyes, take a deep breath." Anna slows rocking. She folds her shaking hands in her lap. "Good. Now exhale. Again, deep breath in, and out it goes." Anna slowly adjusts her seat into a cross-legged position. 'You're doing great. Take a breath', Troi instructs through a psychic connection, 'And let it go nice and easy. Very good'.

Sitting opposite one another, the two women share a quiet moment shroud in silence. 'It happened once before when I was younger', Anna confesses. She breath quivers as she pulls in a deep breath. 'It scares me'.

Deanna Troi's face is impassive. She relaxes her shoulders as a mental bound begins to sprout. 'Are you part Betazoid'?

'I was raised an orphan'.

'Your mental powers are special. My people often communicate like this. I believe you are one of us'.

'I have trouble controlling it'.

'I can help, but why did you attack Wesley'?

'He tried to hurt me'.

'I did not feel it that way. In fact, I would say the opposite is true'.

'He got too close. I can hear him'.

'Anna, Betazoids can form attachments to others. We call them Imzadi. I believe this is the case between you and Wesley'.

'NO'!

'Tell me the first time you experienced your telepathic abilities'.

'I will show you'.

"Show me?" Deanna Troi's eyes dart open, but it is to late. She is drawn into Anna's past: her psyche is ripped from the present, swirling down a drain as Anna's mind-vortex melts away the walls. Troi's final thought: not Betazoid.

The room is filled with shadows that move around a little dark-haired girl sitting on a stool. Her feet are crossed in red Mary-Jane shoes. "I'm not fibbing, Sister. I can hear him." She taps her head.

The Sister responds. You cannot see her, but the Sister of Mercy's presence is written in shadows. She speaks but it sounds backwards.

Little Anna leans in to whisper, "He can hear me back. I think he knows."

A response like, "Seciov raeh scitereh ylno."

"Please," little Anna's eyes grow wider, pleading, "Please, no!"

The Sister says, "dog fo nam a si eh. Diarfa eb ton od."

Tears stream down Anna's chubby cheeks. The background blinks to pitch black. Little Anna looks down at her red shoes. Her breath is ragged and shallow. Little droplets speckle her Mary Janes. Each point stains them blood red. The light on Anna intensifies into a shaft of divine sanctity. It deepens the shadows under her eyes.

"Anna," the Priest's voice is deep and smooth like fine scotch, "do you fear God?"

"No, just monsters." She looks into the light with watery eyes.

The Priest chuckles. "There are no monsters if you accept the love of our Lord. Tell you what. There is a way for you to become closer to God. There's a special Holy Sacrament that I only give to the ones that really, really need it."

Little Anna looks back at her shoes that dangle from the stool just inches above the ground. A hand gently tips her chin up and back to the angelic light. "I-I know you are bad."

"Will you open yourself up to the special sacrament? I promise you'll love it, and it will absolve you of your wickedness. Would you like that?"

'You are the one that is wicked, Father'.

"Did you-Did you say something?"

'Now it's time you STOP'.

The Priest gasps.

Little Anna's eyebrows lower in anger as the light, the divine gold, turns red. 'STOP YOUR WICKEDNESS, FATHER! STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP'!

His scream crescendos from a low tenor to a high pitched wail. Each breath is followed with a deafening screech. Troi is desperate for it to end. Little Anna crushes the Priest's mind like a brittle leaf curled in a child's fist.

Deanna Troi's lips tremble as she cries on the floor of Anna's quarters. Anna holds Deanna's hands. She says, "That's the first time it happened. I just thought it and it came true. It was like a horrible magic."

"I'm so sorry."

"I have feelings for Wesley that scare me."

"He's not that man."

"I know." She let's go of Deanna. "I know."

The lights in Anna's quarters shift immediately to red followed by a WOOP-WOOP alarm. Deanna shakes off the connection with Anna. "We're under attack. Anna, I have to-"

"What can I do?" Her eyes are alert, but raw around the edges. "Where do you need me? I'm trained in engine mechanics and-"

Deanna stands. "I must go to the bridge now. I want you to stay here. You're on the Enterprise. We can handle it." Troi crosses the room at a brisk pace. She turns to Anna before exiting and thinks, ' You're safe here, little one'.

You are outside the Enterprise now. A dark ship emerges from the globulous nebula. It arcs out, seeming to gain ground to a dominant position. The ship trails an electric blue tail as it's angular nose careens toward the Enterprise D. You are on the saucer section watching the details of the ship begin to fill in. From this vantage point, it looks like a day-glo beetle with it's carapace open.

Worf notices the aggression. "Commander, they are moving into an attack position."

Commander Riker bellows, "Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Data!"

"Ay, commander."

Picard stands next to Riker. After a chime on his panel, Worf says, "We are being hailed by the Vulcans."

Picard is tense. "Put them through." To Riker he says, out of earshot of the crew, "Not Romulan."

Riker just shakes his head and responds, "UFO."

Tevic states calmly, "Captain, a tetrion scan of the nebula just before the ship emerged showed high levels of theta band radiation, neutrinos, and ionized hydrogen. This may explain-"

"Thank you, Tevic. Inform the outpost captain to raise shields and go to red alert immediately."

"As you wish, Captain. Tevic out."

The unknown vessel's blue power cells suddenly pulse bright before firing on the Enterprise. The energy burst crackles and spits from the starboard and aft modules. It blazes a gash along the Enterprise's aft, slicing directly into the hall.

The bridge shakes vigorously. Captain Picard and Commander Riker are knocked off their feet. Worf grips his station for support. Wide-eyed he says, "Captain, severe damage to decks twelve to fourteen. Our shields are useless!"

"Return fire!" Picard scrambles into his captain's chair.

Along the underside of the saucer section, two points of yellow trace around an inner ring to join at a precise point on the bow. The phaser beam, a line of pure energy that burns yellow-orange, plows into the dark ship's shields with enough force to devastate a city. The phaser blast is totally dispersed along the surface of the shield.

"No damage," Worf barks.

The enemy vessel circles around the Enterprise, which now swings deftly away. The dark ship charges its energy banks and fires a blue laser that crashes into the Enterprise's stern.

Computer panels explode in a shower of sparks as ensigns tumble to the ground. Emergency lights flicker on as the main power systems cut in and out. "Geordi to bridge," his voice is urgent and stressed.

"Go ahead, Mr. La Forge." Picard scans quickly around the bridge. Several crewmen are unconscious. Riker crawls back into his commander's chair. The shoulder on his uniform is ripped and he is gushing blood from a forehead wound. "Are you okay, Number one?" William nods.

"Captain, we've lost warp engines. There are major system failures throughout. We cannot take another hit!"

"Acknowledged." He grips the sides of his chair. Sweat rolls down his bald head and into the wrinkles above his brow. Picard's eyes narrow. "Mr. Data set a course for the nebula. Maximum speed."

"Ay, Captain."

"Mr. Worf, buy us some time. Fire photon torpedoes: sierra pattern."

"Ay, Captain. On your mark."

The Enterprise D, hobbled and scarred, limps to the edge of the nebula. Tremors rack the entire ship as it putters into the colored gases. Data states, "Sir, we are entering the nebula at full impulse."

"Fire photon torpedoes!" Picard barks.

Five rockets launch as points of light from the stern array just between the warp engine nacelles. They spread out in a circular pattern, falling toward the unknown enemy vessel. Two are a direct hit to their shields, which flickers in response. The dark ship dodges two others, but gets slammed by the final torpedo that tears into their underbelly with a fantastic explosion. It is nearly knocked off its intercept course.

Worf growls. "Direct hit, Captain. It's shields are down, and they have taken damage."

"Confirmed," Data adds. "The enemy; however, is still closing fast."

"Hold course. Let's see if we can slow'em down. Mr. Worf ready another barrage."

"Ay, Captain." Worf types one-handed on his panel to call up additional armaments.

Data peers at the big screen. It is filled with an abstract of colored hues like a Rothko painting come to life. "Captain, I am reading major subspace interference. Recommend full stop."

Picard's jaw tightens. "Negative. I said, hold course. What is the position of the hostile?"

"We have lost them, Captain." Worf grits his teeth in irritation. He is thirsty for combat.

"Is it the disturbance in the nebula?" Commander Riker mops blood away from his eyes.

"That is certainly possible. We have entered the proposed position of the anomaly." Data taps on his controls, deftly moving around the screen at an inhuman pace.

"If we cannot detect them than there's hardly a chance they can see us. Damage report." Picard says.

Worf takes a breath. "Sir, all decks are reporting in. We have a hall breach on deck 13 and engineering; however, containment fields are in place. There are eight casualties and many injured. Warp drive is offline and impulse is limited."

Picard walks around helm to stand in front of the screen to address the bridge crew. He pauses at the sight of a young ensign slumped over his console. Picard's voice is soft as he delivers a plea. "We are facing an unknown enemy. We are outgunned and outmaneuvered. Our backs are against the wall. I need options."

You notice Worf's lip curl. It is an expression rarely seen. It is a Klingon smile. "I just need one more shot with the photon torpedos."

Riker chimes, "That's all well and good, but we can't take another hit."

Data's head tilts in a speculative gesture, "Captain, the enemy's weapon penetrated our shields. I believe there is a way to adjust the frequency to compensate for the resonate output of their blasters."

"La Forge to bridge."

Picard taps his communicator, "Go ahead."

"Captain," Geordi is winded, "we have some major systems hanging by a thread. Lieutenant Barclay was almost sucked out of a hall breach. Sir, it's a miracle we have impulse power."

"Acknowledged. I'm sending Lieutenant Commander Data down to help. We need to remodulate the shields in preparation-"

"Sir, shields are down. Shrapnel from the hall breach has incapacitated the generator. It's gonna take several hours-"

"You have one hour. Picard out." He paces back and forth, stroking his chin. The pulsing red alert lights around the perimeter throb, highlighting the sharp features of Picard's face. You notice a desperate silence fall on the collective consciousness of the crew. He crosses back to his captain's seat, eases into it, and straightens his uniform. To himself he mutters, "I suppose we must ready the harpoon." Riker is in ear-shot, and, through the pain and blood, chuckles. Picard says aloud, "Mr. Worf, ready your one shot."

Mr. Worf responds with gusto, "Ay ay, Captain."

Captain Picard turns around to address Worf. "Best make it count." Worf nods. "Mr. Data, scanners at maximum."

"Ay, Captain."

"Helm. Full stop."

Data looks over at his flanking position at the man slumped over his controls. He concludes that he is deceased. Data responds cooly, "ay ay, Captain. Full stop."

Picard speaks softly:

"Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die."

Captain Picard says, "Mr. Worf, you have discretion to fire at will."

"Ay, Captain."

You feel every moment of silence is weighted with the prospect of death. Tense faces highlighted with the pulsing red lights fanout around the bridge. Riker slumps a bit in his commander's seat. He breathes slowly through a spike of pain. Worf, his large hands ready at targeting, is excited with the anticipation of a kill. He relishes the idea of dying in battle. What an honor to walk the halls of Sto-vo-kor.

Data's prosthetic eyes move quickly over the sensor readouts. He glances at the spectral image of the nebula on screen. A pulse of lightning crawls through the billowy clouds. "Captain, sensors indicate high levels of theta band radiation, neutrinos, and ionized hydrogen."

"Picard to engineering: where are my shields?"

"We're working on it. Things are a mess down here, Captain."

"I don't need excuses, Mr. La Forge. I need results."

"Understood. I'm doing the best I can. La Forge out."

You are in engineering, standing next to Geordi La Forge. Before us is a naked expanse of stellular gases that rise and fall like a vaporous mountain range. Staring at it through the containment field on the engineering deck is a nightmare. Geordi is shrouded in darkness. A chain of lightning threads through the nebula. A glint of light reflects off his gold visor. "Gonna need all the help I can get." He taps his communicator. "La Forge to Wesley Crusher."

"Crusher here."

"Wes, if you're not too busy, I could use your assistance in Engineering."

"All hands on deck?"

"We have multiple system failures, and an unreasonable timeline for repair."

"Ah, just like old times. On my way. Crusher out."

You are far enough away from the Enterprise D that it looks like a bottle ship frozen in a suspension of boldly colored oil and water. You notice scars along the normally pristine hull. If you squint, you can see that the depth of the gashes sink far: there are two exposed decks. Every now and then a crew member walks briskly by the unsettling containment field.

Picard is leaning forward now with his hands gripping his knees. Beads of sweat roll down his brow and onto the already damp collar. "Report, Mr. Data." A splash of lightning on screen blinks the bridge white. Picard squints hard from the burst.

"Captain, I have continued sensor sweeps since your last order. Our range is seriously limited due to severe damage to the array; however, I am picking up increased activity at ground-zero of the anomaly." Data turns in his chair to address Captain Picard.

Riker stammers, "Wh-where are we in relation to it?"

Data nods, "Commander, I believe we are at the event horizon. Tevic noted that the increased activity in the general vicinity correlated with the characteristics of a wormhole. I believe he was correct."

Picard inquires, "Is it possible to know its size or where it might lead?"

"No sir." An alert chimes at Data's panel. He swivels around. "Sir, I'm picking up an electromagnetic signature on short range scanners. It is closing."

"The enemy!" Worf snarls.

"On screen." Picard demands.

"The nebula has obscured visuals; however-" Data's hands move quickly along his console.

"What is it?" Riker is shaking uncontrollably in his chair. Picard eyes him as if to say, report to sick bay. Riker shakes his head.

"I believe the wormhole is opening." Data's yellow eyes transition smoothly from helm control to the screen. A gaping mouth appears in the nebula. It churns the gaseous clouds like a hurricane with a pitch black eye. It is a beautiful disaster that freezes your blood.

Picard begins, "Mr. Data-"

"We are being pulled in. Brace for impact." Data's hands quickly grip the top of helm control.

The communications link on the bridge chimes. "La Forge to bridge. What the fu-"