Something about this place was familiar.

Martin couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew he had been here, in this...moment...before. The signs screamed out to him. A smell here, a sound there, but they never coalesced into a single, recognizable memory.

"Hello," said a voice. Martin turned towards the sound and was met by a vision of extreme beauty. Tall, blond, smiling sweetly, and, as with everything else in this place, a vague sense of familiarity about her. Suddenly, a bright flash of light flooded Martin's senses. He held up his hands in a vain effort to shield himself from the overload, but it was as if it had occurred in his mind. His senses overloaded, and he opened his mouth as if to scream...but a moment later, the sensation ended. The light began to fade, dimming to a more reasonable level and allowing Martin to drop his arms.

He was standing at the foot of a grand theatrical stage. Five columns of light erupted upward to the top of the proscenium. He could almost make out a robed figure at the base of each pillar of light, but before being able to investigate further a hand grabbed his arm and spun him away from the brilliance. He found himself facing the woman again.

"Don't worry, they are none of your concern," the woman smiled to cover up her warning tone. Madden decided that it would be better if he didn't cross this person, even though she was just a figment of his imagination. The woman chuckled playfully. "I'm not just in your head, Martin," she said, sensing the conclusions he was jumping to, "this is all quite real. And soon, it will be more real than you can possibly conceive of."

"He is not ready!" rasped a voice behind him. Madden turned, despite the woman's words, and faced this new arrival. Well, it wasn't actually "new" so to speak, as one of the robed figures in the pillars of light had stepped towards him, removing his hood and revealing his face. He was an older man, balding from what Martin could tell. His face was weathered, and Martin knew that this man was also someone not to be trifled with. He wore an eye patch over his right eye, and the other one looked judgmentally upon him. He was about to respond when the blinding build-up if light returned with a vengeance, robbing Martin of his senses.

***

"He's coming to!"

"Give me that hypospray, we have to work fast!"

"I don't like the looks of those vitals..."

The familiar setting of the Opera House (somehow, he knew where he had just been was an Opera House) vanished, replaced by cold steel, polymers, and...people? Madden felt plunged into an abyss of uncertainty. What had happened? Where was he? Why did he feel so-

Madden bolted upright, surprising the quartet of doctors and nurses surrounding him. He was on the Enterprise, but why couldn't he-

A dull ache in his chest escalated into a full-blown throbbing pain. He clutched at it, wanting to rip open his flesh and dig out everything that hurt. Finally, it became to unbearable and he collapsed backward. He glanced around, his eyes settling on Dr. Beverly Crusher.

"There's something...beautiful...between life and death," he wheezed. Then, his eyes closed amidst the chorus of medical jargon being hurled back and forth. His last conscious thought was of the blond woman from his dreams, and if he would ever see her again.

***

Captain Jean-Luc Picard had heard the emergency call from Dr. Crusher, telling him that Commander Madden was in emergency surgery, but he was forced to cut the call short when three contacts had entered sensor range and were apparently spoiling for a fight.

"Have we determined who they are, what they want?" He asked Worf, his tactical officer.

"The vessels match no known configurations," responded the Klingon officer, clearly irritated with his inability to provide his commanding officer with more information. That was literally all the Enterprise sensors were able to determine.

"Are they within visual range?" queried Picard. Worf nodded, and the captain ordered the main viewscreen activated. As the holographic facade dissolved away, heads throughout the bridge turned to view these never before seen interlopers. Upon cursory examination, more than a few jaws dropped. The viewer displayed three ships, two of them constructed of two alternating arrow-shaped pieces attached to each other at a central point. The third vessel however was simply bizarre. Dozens of spider-like shapes attached at procedural intervals to a central core housing. Picard thought it resembled a giant centipede if a dorsal set of legs had been added. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered him, but this particular centipede was several times larger and heading right for them.

"Arm phasers, load quantum torpedoes, shields to full. All hands, this is the captain. Battlestations." The explorer in Picard regretted having to give that order, but due to the Federation's recent losses to the Dominion and the renewed Borg threat, Starfleet had clandestinely adopted a "shoot first" policy, questions later being optional. If an unidentified ship shows up out of nowhere and makes a run at you, no communication, no warning, a Starfleet captain was to put the lives of his crew above all other potential first-contact concerns.

"Captain!" Shouted Worf, "multiple contacts. The vessels are deploying auxiliary craft. Sensors reading multiple new contacts!" Picard really didn't need the report. He could see the dozens, maybe hundreds, of smaller ships emerging from the hulls of all three ships. At that moment, he was able to make a much safer guess as to the intentions of the mysterious aggressors.

"Mr. Worf, fire at will."

***

Weightlessness

Madden had never felt a sensation like this before, not even during his Zero-G training during his Academy days. This...this was different. There was also a warmth, accompanied by a dampness that Madden couldn't equate with any other sensation he had heretofore experienced. He felt...safe. For the first time in years, hell, decades, he felt as though he were untouchable. He knew that nothing bad could reach him in here.

"There will be pain, but breathe through it."

The voice was familiar. He knew he had been feeling that way about a lot of things lately, but there was no other word to tack on to his experiences as of late. A sharp stab of pain told him that this familiar voice also seemed to know what it was talking about. He did as he was told and inhaled deeply, the air filling his lungs telling him that he was no longer aboard Enterprise. The taste didn't have the telltale staleness of recycled air.

"Good, you're doing fine. Everything will be alright soon, brother. A new day has dawned for you." Madden managed to smile through the pain. This voice was the most reassuring he had ever heard, and it filled him with a sense of tranquility. For a moment, the pain ceased to exist. It was just him...and the voice. Wanting to test his other senses, Madden opened his eyes.

What he beheld would have sent him panicking at any other time in his life, but now barely fazed him. He saw that he was, indeed, floating in a large tub of some sort of fluidic compound. He was in a dimly lit room, alien but familiar at the same time. And someone was with him.

"Hello, brother," said the striking blond woman leaning over him, grasping his hand. Madden looked deep into her eyes, tears welling in his own.

"For a time, I thought you weren't real," he said, and the blond woman smiled warmly. She reached up and stroked his forehead tenderly.

"For a time, I thought you weren't real, either. But now you're here, and you will help lead the Cylons to a glorious new age." Her smile intensified. She was practically bursting with emotion, and Madden could only look upon her. Something clicked in his mind. The lies, the deceit of his other life ceased to exist in that moment. He remembered now. He remembered everything.

"By your command," he whispered to her.

***

"All hands, brace for impact!" Picard shouted. A split second later, a devastating impact rocked the ship, sending sparks shooting from most of the bridge consoles. He hadn't expected his adversary to employ kamikaze tactics, but apparently he had underestimated them. Three of the small attack ships had just plowed into the primary hull of the Enterprise, causing near catastrophic damage. Emergency forcefields were in place, but with the warp core so badly damaged, Picard had no idea how long they would hold.

"Captain," shouted Worf, "fourteen more ships on intercept, targeting the bridge. Warp drive offline!" Picard could only watch as the viewscreen told the tale of their demise. The ships were heading straight for them, and the phasers would only be able to take out ten of them before they struck the bridge.

"All hands, evacuate the bridge. Re-convene on the battle bridge. Transfer all console functions to-

"Captain!" Worf interrupted his superior, and directed Picard's attention to the viewscreen. The ships were no longer advancing. In fact, it appeared as though they were retreating towards their carriers. Picard watched as they seamlessly re-integrated themselves within the bodies of the larger vessels, and then as the carriers and the giant centipede disappeared in great flashes of light. "They're gone. Sensors show no sign of enemy vessels. Picard decided not to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

"Helm, get us out if here. Maximum speed!" The conn officer did as instructed and a moment later the ship began limping away at impulse speeds. "Mr. Worf, any sign of pursuit?"

"None, sir," Worf responded. He then entered a command into the control pad on the arm of his chair, opening an intra-ship comm channel. "Medical teams to the bridge," he commanded, "repair teams to engineering." To Picard he added, "I imagine Geordi will need quite some time to bring warp drive back online. In the meantime, we should check on Commander Madden's condition." Picard nodded his agreement and turned to the Sarah Chalmers, the Ops officer, and said "you have the bridge lieutenant Chalmers. Stand down to yellow alert, commander Worf and I will be in sickbay."