"We're almost in range, Gul Narat," Glinn Ledrec reported.

Gul Narat nodded without taking his eyes off the viewscreen. If he was in the least concerned, he gave no indication of it. Lakahn swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, as they approached the half-wrecked station. The sight of the huge cube filled him with fear. He wondered how the Cardassians could be so calm. If the Collective had somehow survived the Borg War... Lakahn felt his heart pounding in his chest. The whole universe was in danger.

As the Gavran approached the wreckage, the Seltras eased into position behind and beside them, using them as a shield from the cube's line of fire. There was a flicker around her as Gul Jecett disabled the shields, and a few seconds later another flicker as they were reactivated. A message appeared on one of the screens of Lakahn's console even as the Seltras moved off like a dog slinking away. "G-" Lakahn began, but the word stuck in his throat. He swallowed and tried again. "Gul Jecett is done, sir. And we have the data from her scan."

"Thank you, Commander." Gul Narat seemed relaxed, but Lakahn noticed then that his hands were clenching the armrests of his chair.

"We're in range, Gul," said Glinn Ledrec. "Weapons locked."

"Fire."

Twin bursts of amber light shot from the underside of the Gavran. The closer target, hit first, exploded in a spectacular fireball. A second followed, even larger and brighter than the first, and so began the cascade. Section after section of the station erupted in flames and soon the Gavran was in the centre of a raging inferno that boiled against her shields. Instinctively Lakahn took a step backwards.

The flames died as quickly as they'd erupted, and the station was gone. Simply gone.

The Borg cube remained, minus the segment that had flown out to collect part of the station, looming. It was easily a hundred times the size of the Gavran. A beep sounded from Lakahn's station; he stepped forward to inspect the display.

"They're hailing us," he said weakly.

Gul Narat glanced at him as if to ask whether he was all right, but all the Cardassian said was: "That's the least of our concerns right now." To Glinn Ledrec, he added: "Back us off and turn us around. Slowly. Prepare to go to warp." The giant nodded and entered the instructions in his console. Dangerously close the huge cube, the Gavran slowly backed away, turning as it so, leaving it broadside to the cube when Lakahn's station beeped again, insistently. He looked at the display.

"Gul Narat!" he exclaimed in alarm. "They've just opened a channel!"

Rising and whirling around in frustration, Gul Narat opened his mouth, undoubtedly to get off another snide remark, but he was cut off:

"We are the Borg," hundreds of overlapping voices proclaimed. "Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. You will lower your shields and surrender your vessel. Resistance is futile."

Gul Narat opened his mouth to respond, closed it, and considered. He pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated, and muttered something untranslatable under his breath. "Glinn Ledrec," the small Cardassian said finally, "get us out of here. Maximum warp."

Glinn Ledrec gave a single, brief nod and the Gavran shot off into space.

At 1057 hours, Vekal opened her eyes and rose from an unpleasant sleep. Having memorised the contents of Captain Hughes' PADD in just over one and a half hours, and not having been given any instructions to the contrary, she'd remained her her quarters. Though the Captain had been explicit in asserting that the crew had been told to expect her, he'd also implied they would be pleased. The faces she had seen told her otherwise and she had no desire to be shot at by an overenthusiastic security team.

So in her quarters she remained, and with nothing better to do had taken a nap. For once, she'd had no trouble falling asleep. Probably, she thought dryly, because of the long nights she'd spent awake recently reading up on Starfleet. Though her memory was excellent, she was a slow reader and the material had been dry, boring to her. She'd almost wished for sleep.

At least the couch had been reasonably comfortable, Vekal reflected optimistically. And perhaps she would find something to do at night, once she'd better assessed the mood on the ship, and the best way to avoid those who would keep too sharp an eye on her. Vekal smiled at the thought as she retrieved her outer armour and buckled it over her jumpsuit.

Mentally reversing the route to the turbolift, Vekal stepped out of her quarters and into the uncomfortably cold, bright corridors. As the light hit her eyes, sending pain shooting through her nerves, she sighed. She should have asked the computer to gradually increase the lighting and decrease the temperature to accustom herself to the rest of the ship, but it hadn't occurred to her. Next time.

In the meantime, her vision was adapting as she walked, though occasionally when she glanced up at the faces of the rare crewmen taller than her the glare from the overhead lighting would blind and disorient her.

She was two turns away from the turbolift when she recognised one of the bridge crew introduced to her earlier that morning. A blonde Vulcan wearing a security uniform strode towards her, also wearing what Vekal could only assume was a benign version of the Vulcan don't-mess-with-me expression. The Vulcan stopped as the distance between the two women narrowed. Vekal did likewise. They stood six feet apart, motionless.

"Ensign T'Lara," she recalled. "May I help you?"

The Vulcan looked as if she wanted to say something, but reconsidered: "I've been ordered to escort you to the Officer's Mess. I expected to find you in your quarters. Sir."

It was not lost on Vekal that all her movements on the ship had been supervised by either the First Officer or a security officer. Or would have been, had she not left her quarters early. "I didn't expect an escort," she replied, and she felt that if her tone was sharp it was forgivable. Being cool to one ensign couldn't jeapordise an entire treaty, surely. Vekal continued: "And from the information I was given I deduced lunch would be at 1100 hours. I thought it best not to be late."

She continued on her path, heading straight for Ensign T'Lara; the Vulcan stepped aside and then fell in step beside her. "You would not have been more than one minute late," she observed with a raised eyebrow. "Would this be unacceptable on Cardassia?"

Vekal chuckled. "Believe it," she said. "If Gul Narat ordered me to lunch at noon, the doors would be closed one second later."

"Hm," the Ensign said as the women entered the turbolift. "Deck five."