Veil of Shadows

When a dormant Borg device capable of disabling entire fleets is stolen by the Orion Syndicate, Lakota Squadron is mobilised to track it to the hidden Black Veil Station in the dangerous Etrada Nebula. As each ship battles Syndicate forces and navigates the treacherous nebula, the squadron must work together to cripple Black Veil’s defences, prevent the device’s weaponisation, and dismantle the Syndicate’s operation before Federation space is left vulnerable…

1 – From Zaran, With Love… and Grave Concern

Various
Stardate 240112.1, 0900 Hours

Captain’s Log, Stardate 240112.1. USS Proteus, Captain Noli Auru Commanding.

Proteus is nearly a month into humanitarian relief efforts on Zaran IV following devastating earthquakes caused by a rogue comet passing through the system. Gravimetric distortions throughout the system have caused significant disruption to relief operations. However, we’ve provided hundreds of relief shelters for those displaced by earthquakes in seven different provinces. Commander Vren and his team have successfully created several new agricultural centres where the populace can once again grow crops to help sustain themselves when we depart. Lieutenant Mora and his engineering team have managed to implement an early warning system that will detect any future gravimetric shifts caused by residual effects of the comet’s trajectory. I’m proud of our efforts, and I’m sure the people of Zaran IV are too.

Proteus remains in orbit, operating with a skeleton crew as we mop up random fragments and serve as a transportation hub between continents as our Away Teams gradually return to the ship.

Having arrived at Zaran IV some 25 days ago, alone thanks to a shift in orders for the rest of the squadron, no one expected to be there still all these weeks later. Starships had warp drives and impulse engines to ensure they didn’t outstay their welcome, but the Echelon-class cruiser hadn’t left orbit for the last twenty days as relief efforts had consumed all departments across the ship. It wasn’t a science survey, or mapping a star cluster, but it was what Starfleet was there for. Federation citizens needed help, and those unfortunate souls left aboard the ship ensured the wheels kept turning whilst the rest of their colleagues did their best for the people of Zaran.

Lieutenant Commander Orys Ch’tosrik, Commander of the Starfighter Air Group, had volunteered his services to the captain early in the mission, offering to log additional star hours on the bridge so that he could work towards completing his command certifications. With him came the rest of his pilots, eager and willing to log their own hours and finally experience life in the command centre. It hadn’t been what they had expected. No phaser fights, no red alerts, no ship-wide emergencies. But still, it beat ferrying equipment and personnel to and from the ship. Pilots liked flying, but they hated being used as glorified taxi drivers. So, all around the bridge and supported by specialists from different departments, bridge stations were occupied and manned by squadron pilots in traditional uniforms learning the basics and enjoying every minute.

Orys had run countless simulations and training drills, including running the traditional Kobayashi Maru simulations for those interested in command, but it had been a breeze so far. He was standing looking over Gosia’s shoulder and overseeing the results of the last drill when there was a little commotion at the forward stations. Not-so-hushed conversations taking place between Xorin and Sira drifted far enough that they caught the Andorian’s attention.

“Hey,” he loudly called out, “what’s going on down there?” he asked, leaning on the rail near the tactical station and glaring in their direction.

Arguing continued for a few seconds more until the department XO rose from the tactical station and yelled. “Hey!”

Turning in their seats, the Romulan and his Orion counterpart looked shell-shocked as the XO glared at them. Neither of them particularly wanted to explain their reasoning for the disturbance but another glare from the XO brought words out of the mouth of the Romulan at Ops.

“Sensors have detected something,” Xorin said, returning to his console. “I can’t be sure but I think it’s…” he stopped in his tracks, freezing on the spot.

Strolling swiftly down the steps to the flight deck, the Commander placed a hand on the back of the young pilot’s chair. Leaning over his shoulder, the Andorian looked at the readings from Xorin’s display. As soon as he made sense of the readings, his antennae dropped.

“Open a channel to the away team,” he instructed, “I need to speak with the Captain.”


Glorious rays of sunlight beat upon the Northern Islands, bathing them in an early morning glow that was almost ethereal. Summer on the islands made the Away Team’s work a lot more pleasant, and it was entirely understandable why some activities had been prolonged. Who wouldn’t want to enjoy such weather instead of the replicated, stale atmosphere of their starship?

Noli had taken the opportunity to beam down and check in with her team commanders, enjoying a stroll along the beachfront with Onsas in the process. With her trousers rolled up to her knees, she clenched and buried her toes at will, letting the warmth and the coarseness of the sand exfoliate her feet. Every few minutes foaming sea water would lap at her feet and cause her to smile. Never in a million years would she have ever imagined such a magical place for her first mission, and she’d been brought here because of a disaster of epic proportions. Perhaps, in a roundabout way, the Prophets had listened to her at last. She needed this, and it turned out Zaran IV needed her.

“Vren reports the last of the water purification systems are being installed this morning which means all of the agricultural centres will be operational by the end of the day.”

Facing out to sea with her eyes closed, Noli took several deep, refreshing breaths whilst listening to Onsas and his report. The Xelliat brute hated the sand – according to him it was coarse, rough and irritating – and remained suited and booted despite his captain’s urgings.

“What about the planetary shield grid?” the Bajoran whispered in a way that completely bellied the serious nature of her question, her words travelling on the summer breeze.

“Mitchell informed me that she’s enlisted Mora’s help. They’re still struggling to get the projector arrays on South Island to communicate with the rest of the system consistently. If they can’t get it fixed, there is a chance that a segment of the grid could fail sporadically and leave their section vulnerable. They are working on a redundancy measure with an orbital array, but Lieutenant Mitchell described it as…” Onsas paused as he tried to recollect the exact phrase the young human had used. It was a peculiar phrase he hadn’t understood, for logical purposes, but Lauren had assured him it was right. “…I believe her words were  ‘something of a pipe dream’ Captain.”

Noli finally opened her eyes and let out a quiet laugh and shake of the head, knowing exactly what her tactical chief was like, and her penchant for earth idioms never failed to make her smile. In truth, Lauren had been the saving grace for Noli in the early days of her tenure on Proteus, making up for the loss of her dear, dear friend Prida, who had remained on Lakota. It meant a lot to have someone she could trust by her side after everything that had happened.

“I bet she did,” the Captain smirked, shaking her head slowly. “Tell her she can ha…”

Her instructions were cut off by the chirping sound of the communications badge on her left breast. She let out a sigh as she tapped the device. “Noli here. Go ahead,” she instructed, hoping there was a reason for the disruption.

“Captain,” the familiar voice of Lieutenant Commander Ch’tosrik sounded concerned. “We need you up here ma’am. There’s something you need to see,” the Andorian told her.

Noli turned and looked at Onsas, the Xelliat shrugging before bending down and picking up his Captain’s boots for her. He held out the black, leather footwear and waited for her to take ownership.

She let out a wistful sigh, knowing full well that she was unlikely to be back there anytime soon. “We’re on our way Commander. Noli out.” Grabbing her boots from the XO, she marched past him and headed for the transport site, a last look over her shoulder at the beautiful sapphire ocean she was loathed to leave behind.


Emerging from the turbo lift on the port side of the bridge, the Captain’s whole demeanour had changed since transporting aboard again. She’d been dragged from her dream-like scenario and pulled back to the harsh realities of life in command, and she hoped more than ever that there was a good reason for her recall.

“Orys…” she called, skipping down the steps at speed to join the Orion at the forwardmost station on the bridge. Onsas wasn’t far behind.

“Ah, Captain.” Ch’tosrik turned his head on a swivel and frowned at the Bajoran. “I wouldn’t have dragged you back, but you need to see this,” he said, almost in apology as he stepped aside and gestured to the Ops display.

Taking a step forward, Noli let out a sigh, looked over the material on the LCARS panel, and immediately froze. Her eyes widened and her breathing grew heavy enough that Onsas noticed that all was not well, even from a distance. “Captain?” he asked, approaching Ops.

Coming to a halt on the other side of Xorin, the XO reviewed the same information and instantly understood. “Are we sure?” he asked, looking down at Xorin, then across at Orys.

“Triple-checked with all three stations,” Orys confirmed with a nod.

“Relay the data to Starfleet and Task Force Command,” Noli instructed when she emerged from her trance-like state. “Signal an immediate recall. All senior staff back aboard at the first opportunity. Number One, get me the Squadron Commanders,” she concluded, heading up the stairs for the Observation Lounge.

Onsas watched as she left, his eyes narrowing lightly as he considered what this news might mean for their new captain. For any of them, for that matter.

“Aye Captain,” he called after her, then turned to Orys in a hushed tone. “Transmit the data and begin the recall. I’ll contact the squadron,” the two sharing a single nod of agreement before parting ways, the Xelliat taking control of the command chair, tapping on the arm controls feverishly.

If what they had found was true, Proteus had ceased her work as an angel of mercy on a humanitarian mission and had instantly become the first wave of defence against an ever-familiar foe.

2 – Trauma Recalled

Briefing Room
Stardate 240112.1, 1000 Hours

Standing at the head of the observation lounge table, Noli watched the assembled commanders of the Squadron with great interest as each absorbed the terrible news she had just burdened them with. Captain Ryan of the Hypatia, the unknown component around the table, was leaning on the back of a holographic chair and cursing under his breath. Captain Giarvar Kauhn, her good friend and former crewmate, clenched his eyes closed, rubbed his forehead with one hand and clasped the other across his holographic chest. Fleet Captain Kelvan Vos, the senior of the group in more ways than one, was the most composed of the lot, but even he had his holographic hands on his holographic hips, shaking his head in disbelief.

You’re sure of the data?” Ryan asked, looking up from the chair.

Kauhn glared across the table at the newest member of the team. “If Noli says her team have found this, then they’ve found it.” Kauhn’s blind faith in the young upstart Captain seemed to rile the human in the group and a heated discussion erupted that caused the young woman to step forward and silence her holographic counterparts.

“There is no doubting it,” she spoke with a raised voice, stopping her colleagues in their tracks. “While the signal is somewhat feint, it is there, and definitely within the Etrada Nebula. What it is, what it does, we’re not sure and won’t know until we get closer, but it is definitely them.”

Gods damn it,” a nightmare scenario to be sure for the Fleet Captain’s first assignment as leader of the Squadron. Holographic Efrosian Vos tutted, his hands glued to his hips. “I genuinely thought we had seen the last of them.”

You never see the last of them,” Ryan interjected, shaking his head at the senior officer. “It doesn’t matter where you go, or what you do, they’re everywhere, involved in everything. Insidious. All that matters now is how we are going to deal with it, and no disrespect to you or your crew Noli, but I think a more experienced commander should be dealing with this.” Ryan spoke with authority, gained over years of being in command of vessels that routinely dealt with situations like the developing scenario the Squadron had been slapped in the face with. It was also his opinion that the more experience the better for a commander when dealing with such a threat.

You’re not thinking of taking Hypatia in there are you?” Kauhn scowled across at the commander of his previous posting. “She’s not equipped to deal with a such threat,” he reminded Ryan – like he needed to.

I’m pretty sure I’m the most qualified around this table. It’s not the ship that matters, but the people,” Ryan retorted.

That’s exactly why Noli will go,” Vos countered sternly, drawing the discussion to a close. “Proteus and her team found the signal, they should be the ones to deal with it. They’re closer to it and are just as experienced as any of us when it comes to threats of this magnitude, if not more so.” The giant of a hologram turned and looked at the young Bajoran and smiled.

Get out there, get the lay of the land, and I expect regular check-ins. However you choose to proceed with the mission from there on in, I’ll have your back, Captain. Meanwhile, the rest of the Squadron will assemble in the Zaran system should you need them,” the older man assured her, and Noli responded with a heartfelt smile of her own.

“Aye sir,” she nodded in agreement. “See you all when you get here,” she smirked, winking at her friend from the Lakota in particular before the holograms flickered and faded from existence and left her alone at the table.

Right on cue, the senior staff arrived for their briefing amid an array of conversations, most of them looking rather perplexed as they took their seats around the table. A hush soon descended once Noli took her seat the the head of the table, hands clasped together on the table before her.

“I know none of you expected to be here right now, but something’s come up,” she let out a sigh and gestured to the wall-mounted screen, “something you’re not going to like.”

On the giant display, an image of several overlapping lines quivering freely drew everyone’s attention. Most failed to understand what they were looking at beyond the basics – an energy signal – but some spotted it instantly, the blood draining from their young faces.

“What exactly are we looking at?” Lieutenant Kesha Iddar, the Cardassian physician, was a confessed technophobe. If something wasn’t important to her duties as a medical officer, she had a hard time understanding it, so all these random lines and sensor data patterns were as baffling to her as a medical journal would no doubt be to most of those around the table.

“It’s a Borg transmitter signal,” a Bolian woman at the end of the table answered quietly, the tone used signalling her discomfort as much as the expression on her face did.

Whilst many were taken aback by her declaration, two of her crewmates knew exactly how she felt. Each of them was eminently qualified to make such a declaration given their unique understanding among the collective gathered at the table. No one here had experienced what they had in recent months. No one. They hadn’t had their humanity stripped from them, forced to kill those they cared about. They hadn’t been forced to commit utterly heinous atrocities whilst entirely powerless to stop themselves. And they hadn’t had to deal with the hatred and loathing of people they had once called friends. It had taken months for Fyhya Kiras, Lauren Mitchell and Pamao Zh’ito to forgive themselves for their part in the disastrous Frontier Day chaos, never mind to earn the forgiveness of their colleagues, and now they were being reminded of that day all over again.

A Borg transmitter signal was impossible for any former drone to miss.

“Where did you find it?” Lauren eventually asked, breaking the silent deadlock around the table, eyes fixated on the waving lines.

Rising to his feet, the brutish XO wandered to the display and tapped some of the buttons on the panel. “Sensors picked up the signal emanating from deep within the Etrada Nebula over an hour ago,” he told in his usual drawl whilst the display changed to show the signal’s location compared to their own.

Noting the lack of other signals on the display, Chief Engineer Mora shook his head in frustration. “Why is it whenever something big goes on, we’re always the only ship in range?” he asked.

“Much of the fleet is engaged in operations dealing with the black market and the Syndicate,” Noli replied, momentarily drawing the focus back to her. “Fleet Captain Vos has dispatched the rest of the squadron to reinforce Zaran IV, but we’ve been ordered to investigate.”

“Is there a possibility of Syndicate involvement here?” Operations chief Lieutenant T’Mia asked from the seat at the bottom of the table.

“I doubt it,” Onsas shrugged, wandering around the table and returning to the seat at Noli’s right. “the nebula is a long way from any sign of Orion activity.” He pulled out his chair and slipped into it comfortably.

Sitting forward in his chair, the Romulan man to Noli’s left answered this time. “Best case scenario is we’re looking at some form of Borg component that has reactivated and will be relatively easy to deal with,” the older gentleman suggested, “the alternative is…”

“Some form of Borg vessel,” Mitchell interrupted the science chief, finally diverting her gaze back to those in the room. “Whatever it is, we need to deal with it quickly. If we’ve detected the signal, god knows who else will,” she told honestly.

“Number One,” Noli looked towards the executive officer beside her as she rose to her feet. “We’ll leave behind any personnel that are non-mission critical for the journey to the nebula so that we can continue efforts here. Get everyone else back aboard in the next thirty minutes. Lieutenant Kiras, we’ll make our way to Etrada, warp seven.”

As the senior staff vacated the room in hushed conversation once more, three young women sat in silence, watching the monitor on the wall. No words were said, only tears forming in the corner of their eyes gave any indication of their emotional state. Each knew how the others felt, for they felt exactly the same; being assimilated by the Borg had been the hardest, most traumatic experience of their lives, and now they were being forced to relive it all over again. Every last detail, every defining moment.

The Borg.

As insidious as ever.

4 – Latinum for your thoughts

Lakota Observation Lounge
Stardate 240110.2, 1000 Hours

Standing in the doorway of the observation lounge, blocking the view from the bridge, Lakota’s newest crewmember hugged the large data PADD she was carrying against her chest, intently watching the scene before her. There was much to learn about her new assignment and her Captain in particular, so opportunities to observe actions and reactions were invaluable to her understanding of these people she now had to entrust with her life, and whose lives had been entrusted to her as executive officer. On this occasion, she watched as Lakota’s Trill master paced the lounge along the aft wall, the windows providing a perfect panoramic view of DS17 behind them. Hands on hips, eyes laser-focused on the floor as he walked, there was a definite inaudible noise coming from him, a noise that wasn’t pleasant.

“Strip of latinum for your thoughts,” she called out, announcing her arrival at last, and drawing the Captain’s gaze for just a moment before he was back to pacing.

“I need you to get the ship ready for departure,” the Trill answered her, continuing the back and forth, with greater gusto and purpose than before.

“Something I should know?” the Cardassian took a step into the lounge and dropped her arms and PADD to her side. They weren’t due to leave for another couple of days, and much of the crew still had shore leave time accrued that they wanted to spend on the station, so an early departure wouldn’t go down well.

“You best grab Vashara. She should hear this,” the Trill finally stopped in front of the middle window and glared across the table at the XO.

Confused, the Cardassian nodded and turned her back on the Captain long enough to return to the command centre. There, she spied Vashara Zail, standing at the tactical station, deep in conversation with Lieutenant Voran and one of his subordinates. Kerina Marten didn’t even bother to close the distance between the two, or cough to announce her arrival and apologise for interrupting. Instead, she simply called her name.

“Vashara,” her voice rang loud across the bridge, louder than she had perhaps meant it to. Jutting her head in the direction of the observation lounge, the Cardassian stepped aside. “Captain needs us,” she told her counterpart, who swiftly gave her apologies to the Lieutenant and his colleague and promptly joined the XO in entering the observation lounge.

“Computer,” the Captain called when the two women had entered and approached the table, “activate privacy protocol.”

Well that didn’t happen often, and it was enough to cause the two women, hardly friends by any means, to share looks of concern. What could have happened, what could the Captain have learned, that needed such measures?

Standing behind the chair that Henry Mitchell would usually occupy, the Captain placed both hands on the headrest. “Vash,” he addressed the strategic operations officer, “what do you know of the Proteus’ mission?” he asked.

Stepping forward, the Orion looked confused but answered his question swiftly. It was her job to know all squadron missions, after all. “She’s on relief efforts in the Zaran system,” Zail answered. “They had a climate disaster on the fourth planet just under a month ago, a rogue comet shifted the planet’s orbit.”

Kauhn nodded along, listening to the Orion’s every word. Once she was finished, he jumped in. “Earlier this morning they detected a signal coming from the nearby Etrada nebula that caused great concern,” he squeezed the chair’s headrest.

“Concern? What type of signal was it?” Marten inquired, stepping forward to involve herself a little more.

“It’s a Borg transmitter signal,” the Captain told.

Upon hearing the name of their dreaded, deadly foe, Vail let out a sigh of resignation, and Kerina tossed her data PADD on the table between them. “Well I wasn’t expecting that,” Marten countered, looking between Captain and Strategist. “I’m assuming we’ve been ordered to assist them in their investigation?”

“You assume wrong,” Kauhn waggled his finger at the Cardassian and shook his head. “Command has ordered Lakota and Hypatia to rendezvous at the Zaran system and support the final stages of the relief effort. We’ll be on standby should things develop and Proteus needs us,” the frustration was evident in his voice, and both officers felt it too. None of them were particularly known for standing around and doing nothing while others put themselves on the line for their safety. There was something amiss, though, when Giarvar looked at his second officer.

“Commander Zail?” the Trill asked with raised brows.

“What kind of signal was it?” Vashara wondered, leaning on the chair in front of her with one hand as she pursed her lips in anticipation and contemplation.

“They’re not sure. It’s faint but detectable from Zaran, so there is a concern other actors might detect it.”

“And we’re right to be concerned,” Vash nodded, her stance changing as she immediately shifted gears. “Command has issued several bulletins this morning updating intelligence on recent encounters with the Syndicate. Apparently dozens of top-level, supposedly secure facilities have been raided in recent weeks, with weapons and technology being taken. It is believed there are salvaged Borg components among the taken items.”

Kerina stood, mouth agape at the revelation, whilst Giarvar simply folded his arms across his chest and shook his head in laughter. “Nothing fucking surprises me anymore,” he commented. “We were briefed not to expect Syndicate involvement because Etrada is off the radar and lightyears from any Syndicate haunt. What do you think?” he narrowed his eyes and looked at the strategist with a wry smile, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

“I think that’s exactly why we should expect Syndicate involvement,” Zail retorted. “They don’t stick to the obvious beaten track. They look for shadowy corners to operate, to avoid detection.”

“And nowhere gets more shadowy than a gaseous anomaly,” Marten finally spoke out.

Agreeing with the two other members of the command trifecta, the Trill paused for a minute to consider his next move. If there was a chance of Syndicate or even Borg involvement, they were now in a game of chess, and he had to be smart with his move. “Command wants us to report to Zaran, so report to Zaran we shall. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be proactive. I want every inch of space between Zaran and Etrada monitored closely, and I want Proteus monitored closely. So much as a sniff of trouble and we go in, orders or no orders,” he instructed of his people, happy when the nods of agreement came in response.

“I’m not going to call a staff briefing. Number One, I want you to talk with the department heads and fill them in. They can disseminate the information to their people on an as-needed basis,” his orders were clear. “We don’t need five hundred people panicking about the Borg before we’ve even got to Zaran.”

“Understood Captain,” Marten gave a curt nod.

“Vash,” he turned his attention to the green-skinned woman across from him, “monitor every communication channel you can from here to Bynaus. If there is so much as a mention of anything we need to know, I want to hear it.”

“Aye Captain,” the Orion nodded. “I’ll reach out to some of my contacts, too, and see what they know.”

“Computer,” Giarvar announced, “deactivate privacy protocol.”

Protocol offline,” the computer replied, lifting the privacy screen that had fallen and secured the room from outside interference or influence.

Rounding the table, the Captain led the exodus to the bridge, and whilst the ladies in red went about their business quietly, Giarvar headed straight for the command chair.

“Henry,” he barked to the CONN, “recall anyone on the station. We’re leaving.”

3 – Signal from Beyond

Bridge
Stardate 240112.1, 1230 Hours

Preceded by a brilliant flash of blinding light, the Echelon-class light cruiser Proteus emerged from warp and quickly adjusted to her new location, staring down the enormous gaseous anomaly ahead of them. Everyone on the crew had seen nebulae before, studied them before, but this was unlike anything the majority of them had seen in the line of duty. Violent eruptions occurred before their very eyes as the varying types of volatile gases swirled freely without the confines of a safety net, a warp core or other such containment fields. Hues of every colour imaginable intermixed to hide the perils buried within. On any ordinary occasion, ship and crew would steer clear of the dangerous anomaly, searching instead for something else to explore and use their advanced sensor suite for, but not today. Today, penetrating the nebula to ascertain the wonders it held was the only possible course of action if they were to get to the bottom of the mystery they found themselves engrossed in.

An eerie silence had engulfed the bridge the instant the warp cortex had closed, a silence that remained unnoticed by most, but not everyone. Something out there among the nebula called to two of the youngest bridge officers like a beacon pulling them across the stars.

It felt as though Lauren had lost all feeling in her legs as the chair spun beneath her. It was a feeling she’d only felt once before, and something that terrified her.

Her heart threatened to beat out of her petite chest, beads of sweat forming on her brow as her breathing became more erratic than usual. Commander D’orr sat closest to the tactical wall, noticed the youngster first and turned in his chair.

“Lieutenant Mitchell?” He called to her, but his voice was nothing more than a distortion wave. “Lauren?” He barked this time, noticing her trance-like state.

His concern drew the attention of the Captain, and several others dotted around the bridge. Reaching out, the Bajoran in the hot seat grabbed her XOs arm and gave it a concerned squeeze that he instantly recognised and prepared for. For ever since Frontier Day, small compartments had been built into the structure of those chairs at the heart of a command centre. In them, concealed for everyone’s safety but also for ease of access, a small hand phaser rested, poised for liberation. And action. Flicking open the door to the storage unit, the hulking Xelliat went to great lengths to avoid any sudden movements.

But as her eyes fell on the terrified expression of her young friend, Noli released her grip and used the arms of her chair to propel herself to her feet. She, like so many others, had experienced the horrors of that day, but something was different here.

Turning her entire body to look at the tactician, the Captain spoke in a hushed, calm tone. “Lauren,” she whispered, “It’s ok… we’re here.”

At first, it looked like the Captain’s words had been in vain, with no noticeable reaction from the tactician, but a flicker behind the eyes changed that moments later. Slowly but surely, the teary youngster turned her head and slowly made eye contact with the Bajoran. There were no signs of the horror that unfolded on that fateful day: no Borg entrails; no robotic voices; no loss of one’s humanity. No, this time all that remained were the scars left behind and the tears of a terrified young woman.

“They’re here…” she whispered to the Captain. “It’s not like… before… I can’t feel them, or hear them… I just have this feeling in my gut, this instinct…” the human tried to explain how she was feeling, but she didn’t need to for very long.

Directly in front of her, the Bolian turned in her seat and looked at the Captain and her human colleague, that same devastating expression on her face.

“She’s right,” Kiras confirmed. “More than one now, but definitely here.”

“The Lieutenant’s are correct, Captain. Given the increasing strength of the signal, whatever we’re facing is definitely in the nebula,” the dark-haired, moustached Romulan at science said quietly, never turning away from his display, his eyes transfixed on the data panel before him.

“Are you two going to be able to carry on?” Noli asked, looking between the two women, sharing an empathetic moment until both confirmed their willingness to carry on by returning to their stations. They’d been seen, heard. Their Captain knew and acknowledged their pain. They wouldn’t let her down now.

“Do we have a fix on its location?” Noli asked, returning to her chair and giving Onsas permission to stand down.

Returning to her duties at the forward station, the bald, blue-skinned Bolian Lieutenant nodded her head. “Aye Captain. The signal is emanating from the heart of the nebula,” Kiras confirmed.

“Any clue as to what it is yet?” Noli asked next, leaving it open-ended for anyone with the relevant information to step forward and wow her, but she remained disappointed when the crew remained quiet. She was about to give up and issue new orders when Mitchell spun on her seat and looked over from tactical.

“The signal is not powerful enough to be a vessel,” the tactical chief revealed, “so we’re looking at something considerably smaller, but significantly powerful.”

“Options?” the Bajoran asked to no one and everyone all at once, sliding to the edge of her seat, her hands gripping the armrests on either side of her petite frame.

“We’re going to have to get closer,” Commander Serath Vren finally spun from the science station and gave the command team his full attention at last.

“Sensors? Probes?” Onsas asked.

“Sensors will not penetrate the nebula’s perimeter and any probes we send in will likely be crushed under the weight of the distortions,” Serath replied.

“It’ll to be rough but I can get us through there,” the Bolian pilot spoke up, having put the ship at a standstill and turned to offer her advice and input. “I can do it. I can get us to the signal, but it isn’t going to be smooth sailing,” she told honestly. She didn’t believe in coddling people, or telling them what they wanted to hear, that wouldn’t get anyone anywhere.

“I can liaise with engineering and monitor system power requirements to give you what you need,” Lieutenant T’Mia confirmed beside her colleague.

“Alright, we have a plan,” the Bajoran smiled, relaxing into the comfort of her command chair and loosening her grip on the armrests. “Let’s make it happen, people.”

5 – Lifting the Veil

Bridge
Stardate 240112.1, 1348 Hours

Experiencing rough seas was a hazard of any ship travelling the cosmos, but Kiras had not been joking when she said travelling the gaseous cloud wouldn’t be easy. Reverberations could be felt across the ship as the deck plating rumbled through the distortions. With the explosive reactions proving hard to predict or chart, the concussive forces sent Proteus barrelling to port and starboard at will, and with the inertial dampeners on overdrive but proving ineffective, there was little the crew could do to brace themselves.

“Why the hell did they discontinue seatbelts?!” Onsas barked over the din of groaning hull plating, forceful impacts and shouting officers.

“It’s called ‘flying by the seat of your pants’, Number One,” Noli grinned beside the Xelliat, another cataclysmic reaction nearly tossing the ship a near three hundred and sixty degrees.

“Granted that was a little worse this time,” the Captain added, her smile fading as she tried to keep herself contained in the safety of the command chair. “Kiras! Tell me there are some smooth seas somewhere ahead,” she appealed to the CONN.

“I’m reading a dense metreon cloud ahead that should give us…” then the shaking stopped abruptly as if the storm had abated and calm seas had been restored. “…some respite,” Fyhya Kiras smirked, wiping the sweat from her brow, having done a stellar job of ensuring the ship didn’t explode under the weight and force of the gravimetric distortions.

Puffing out her cheeks, Noli inched forward in her chair and perched on the edge. “Sensors?” she asked.

“Borg Signal continues to grow in strength Captain,” Vren piped up from the port science wall. “We’ve got one more pocket of dense radiation to pass through, but we’re close.”

“Any danger to the crew?” Onsas queried, his head snapping in the science chief’s direction.

“I’d recommend protective measures just to be safe,” the Romulan suggested.

“Computer,” Noli called out, “initiate radiation exposure protocols.”

“Radiation protocols active,” the computer echoed across the ship. Shipwide, internal bulkheads were sealed where necessary, quarantine and evacuation protocols were enacted, and the ship’s impressive metaphasic shielding grid was further enhanced by compartmentalising certain areas.

“Take us in Lieutenant,” Noli instructed the helmswoman, “slow and steady.”


As she emerged from the dense shroud of radiation layer, the ship was surprisingly unscathed. Save for some minor radiation burns to a number of personnel from a failed shield window in section gamma of deck eight the radiation protocols seemed to have been effective in their job. But something was playing on the minds of the bridge crew; something looking into view on the holographic viewscreen – something none of them had expected to see in Federation space, let alone a dangerous nebula in Federation space.

A jagged, shadowed fortress carved from dark metal, with angular edges glinting faintly in the eerie, ethereal glow of the enveloping gases. Massive docking arms stretched outward like skeletal limbs, each one bristling with heavy defensive turrets that looked like they could deliver a deadly blow with one devastating barrage. At its core, a towering central spire stood ominously against the nebula’s churning clouds. Whatever this place was, it was clear she was not designed to be inviting. She radiated a menacing energy, only enhanced further by the nebula’s interference. She was unlike any Starbase seen across the Federation.

Watching as the menacing structure shimmered into existence, the bridge crew fell silent, each one transfixed by the sight of this hidden stronghold that lay on their doorstep, amazed that not a single piece of intelligence data had recognised or registered the facility. Integral to their understanding now would be determining whom this behemoth belonged to, but that question was simply answered by the three vessels docked on various tentacles stretching from the station’s core. On two of the smaller, likely less important arms, two scout ships sat docked and unresponsive. Not a single light suggested anyone was at home. But on one of the larger pylons protruding from what could only be deduced to be some sort of command area, a larger, cruiser-type vessel sat motionless but very much alive due to the lights scattered across her hull. Both types of vessel were in the LCARS database and it was clear for all to see that these weren’t just any type of vessel. They were Orion Syndicate vessels. And that proved to be a massive problem.

“Whoever is running that station has access to something Borg,” Vren remarked, rising to his feet and leaning on the rail surrounding his science station, watching the main viewer. “The Borg signal is definitely located in the superstructure of that station.”

“Any sign we’ve been detected?” Noli asked, perched on the edge of her seat.

“Not that I can tell from here,” Lauren shook her head slowly. “Their short-range sensors are probably as poor as ours right now. We’ve only found them through line of sight, and that’s only because we were looking for the Borg signal which led us here. They’ve no reason to be looking for us,” she continued, turning to look at the Captain.

“We’ve likely got the element of surprise,” the toothy grin of Commander D’orr took the Captain by surprise, requiring every fibre of her being to resist the urge to laugh in his face. She’d not seen him so much as smile before, so a grin like that, as sadistic as it could be interpreted given the situation, was quite peculiar.

“Monitor the station as best you can,” the Captain ordered with a nod towards each of the science and tactical officers in turn. “Kiras; conceal us in the cloud, but keep the station in our sights. Serath,” she returned her gaze to the Romulan scientist, “you have the bridge.”

Rising to his feet, the Romulan headed for the command chair at the centre of the bridge whilst Noli, with her executive officer in tow, made for the observation lounge.

Now they had found the signal’s location, they needed to work out what to do with the data. A fully functioning Starbase, concealed in the clouds, had complicated matters, as had the three Orion vessels glued to its pylons. It was time to strategise, and with the Xelliat’s science background and Noli’s experience from tactical, the pair had their first opportunity to showcase what the new look command team could do…

To show what Proteus could do…


Technology Lab Alpha-Three was isolated from the rest of the station by over fourteen decks and protective technologies acquired through months of painstaking research and trading, at great cost to Yarev Noss and his Cartel. The secrets it contained were precious to the Syndicate simply because of the price people would pay for them on the Black Market. He’d tried to use his influence as head of the cartel with the Pirate Queen herself, tried to encourage her to keep the secret device for themselves, to try and push the Syndicate to the next level, but it was something even she wouldn’t consider using – the implications for the Syndicate would be dire if Starfleet tracked it back to them after its use, let alone if they found evidence that the Syndicate itself had utilised it. She was probably wise to want rid of it, if for no reason other than the fact it was Borg… and everyone knew what even a single stray nanoprobe could do.

Transferring the technology from Technology Lab Alpha-Three was a matter that required his own close supervision; even his trusted Lieutenants had no clue what was being transferred on the hovering platform, or what it was capable of, and he intended it to stay that way, with as few people as possible knowing what it could do, or even its whereabouts. If word got out about what was there, on that very table, there would be chaos. The Borg were feared everywhere, even in the Syndicate.

Only he knew what the weapon was, and where it was headed beyond Black Veil Station, and he needed to keep it that way.

6 – Tied on the end of a string

Bridge, USS Proteus
Stardate 240112.1, 1432 Hours

Captain and XO alike had looked over numerous sensor readouts, recommendations from their team and had discussed several options during their strategy meeting, but everything came back to the same conclusion; the Orion Syndicate had Borg technology, and Proteus couldn’t let them keep it. Whilst their ship was perhaps one of the strongest ‘light cruisers’ in the galaxy, and probably more than a match for the three Syndicate vessels they’d detected, even a state-of-the-art ship like Proteus wouldn’t be able to withstand the armaments of the starbase too. They needed help, but with communications to the outside world impossible whilst in the nebula, they were in a catch 22.

“Do we leave the nebula and return with the rest of the squadron, or do we send a transmission probe and hope someone friendly receives it?” Noli asked, reading the latest sensor input on the wall mounted display in the observation lounge, arms folded across her chest as she pondered the possible answers.

“If we leave the nebula, who knows what we’ll miss and what the Syndicate might do here,” Onsas started to offer his own input on the situation. “Alternatively, if we send a probe, there is no guarantee that it’ll get through the nebula or find its way to someone friendly. We need someone to relay the message for us,” the Xelliat turned and looked at the Captain, hands on his hips. “We need to send an away team,” he concluded.

“It’s too risky,” Noli shook her head and moved closer to the board, tracing her fingers across the readouts. “The gravimetric sheer and the radiation levels make it too dangerous, even for a Runabout. There’s no guarantee they’d get out, let alone back again,” the Captain knew what had to happen. Onsas was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, but the risk was great.

“How can I ask someone to put themselves at risk in such a way?” she pondered, shaking her head slowly whilst staring at the screen.

“Are you telling me your past Captains have never asked you, or someone you knew, to put your lives at risk in the line of duty?” Onsas glared down at the considerably smaller woman and put his hands on his hips. “On any given day the decisions you make could impact the entire Federation, or beyond. If we do nothing here, if you do nothing, who knows what devastation that technology could cause in the wrong hands. There isn’t a person on this ship that doesn’t understand that, and who wouldn’t put it all on the line if you asked them.”

With a softening of her position, Noli turned to her giant colleague and offered a sincere smile. A gentle hand on his arm strengthened their growing bond and the respect between them. He was right, as he had been with every piece of advice offered to her during their time together. Their tender moment was shattered mere seconds later with a fresh sounding of red alert dragging them from meeting to bridge.

“Report?!” Onsas barked upon return to his seat, copying the Captain’s positioning as they stood in front of their chairs, padded seat cushions resting against the backs of their legs.

“It’s the signal,” Serath told them from science, “it’s moving.”

“Sensors show the signal has moved and is no longer coming from the station,” Lauren elaborated from tactical. “It’s now showing as being aboard the Syndicate cruiser.”

Noli glared up at Onsas, a shared fear between them. “If we reveal ourselves, they’ll know we’re here and potentially utilise or hide whatever this technology is,” the Xelliat advised her.

“And if we don’t, we risk losing it altogether when it gets out of the nebula,” Noli countered, nodding along with his train of thought.

Reaching down to the arm of her chair, Noli tapped one of the LCARS panels and waited for a customary beep from the computer. “Commander Ch’tosrik report to the main shuttlebay immediately,” she instructed, without waiting for a response. Her words caused looks of confusion to spread across the command centre until she spoke again.

“Number One, you have the bridge until I return,” she told him clearly, ensuring there was no debate. “Lieutenant T’Mia, you’re with me.”


Orys Ch’tosrik stood in the main shuttlebay, tapping his feet with arms folded across his chest, waiting for some indication as to why he’d been summoned. Massive clunks from behind him proceeded the raising of the shuttlebay blast doors and the activation of the shield that protected the internal from external. Something was definitely afoot.

Once the bay doors to the hangar deck opened, the Captain and her Vulcan subordinate approached with speed and purpose. He noted the Bajoran’s expression and weakened his defensive posture.

“Whatever you need, I’m there Captain,” he assured her, much to her relief.

“I need you and T’Mia to take a Runabout out of the nebula and make contact with the squadron,” Noli directed them both, nodding in the direction of the Runabout Gothland behind them. “We’ve transferred the message and data you need to transmit, then we need you to hold position and wait for us, or meet one of the squadron ships.”

Orys nodded and looked across at T’Mia. “We’ve got this, right LT?” The Andorian grinned at the Vulcan.

“We will try our best,” T’Mia agreed.

“No heroics!” Noli threw a finger in the air. “Do what you need to do and get to safety.”

With that final warning very much heeded, the Andorian and his colleague left their commander behind and prepared the Gothland for departure. Within a matter of seconds, the Runabout’s warp core powered up and her engines began to glow. With a simple control adjustment, Gothland began to hover a few feet in the air.

Watching with a pained expression, Noli silently said her goodbyes as the Volga-class vessel sped out of the hangar.

A silent prayer later and the Bajoran headed back to the bridge.


Emerging from the turbo lift a few minutes later, she expected to find that the bridge was quiet, with everyone focused on their duties and LCARS stations. In reality, it seemed like chaos had engulfed the command centre in her absence. People furiously at work, clearly upskittled by something.

“Report!” she barked, marching towards the XO who occupied her seat and was in the middle of reviewing sensor logs.

“Orion scouts have powered up,” the Xelliat told as he moved aside and vacated the command chair. With a wave of his hand he directed the Captain to tactical.

Taking over the briefing, Lauren spun on her chair. “All three Orion vessels have powered up and are moving away from the station,” she told the Bajoran.

“We can’t let them leave this nebula with that Borg signal,” Noli stated, watching the Xelliat nod in complete agreement.

“We shouldn’t lose them,” Lauren responded after what appeared to be something of an epiphany. Seeing the Captain’s expression change with the need for more information, Mitchell continued. “Echelon weapons have been modified with recent advancements to include what’s called a traceable payload. Essentially, if we hit them, we ionise the hull of the ship, which in turn allows them to be tracked.”

“So essentially we tag the threat vessel and pursue them through warp,” Serath chimed in from science, supporting his younger colleague, “or we pass on the signature and summon help to deal with them.”

“Either way, we shouldn’t lose them. Excellent,” Noli grinned as she took her seat once again. Traceable payloads. It was something she’d read about when she came aboard, but it had slipped her mind. Thankfully her people were on hand to remind her of what could, potentially, be a difference maker here.

“Captain,” Kiras turned from the CONN, “I think we could have an opportunity here.”

“I’m all ears Lieutenant,” the Bajoran nodded to the Bolian.

“What if we simply tag them now, rather than prevent them escaping?” the bald beauty could see the confusion on her colleagues faces so elaborated. “We tag the lead ship now, secretly, and let them leave the nebula. We track them until we find out where they’re taking this…thing.”

Captain and bridge crew alike considered the Bolian’s suggestion, some in agreement almost instantly while others appeared to have questions.

“What if we lose them?” Serath asked.

“I’ll just have to fly like I’ve never flown before.” Kiras answered.

“How can we hit them without them knowing?” Xelliat XO Onsas D’orr wondered, looking to the tactical chief for inspiration.

“I have an idea…”


With engines aglow, the Cruiser Ninkaa slowly backed away from the station’s umbilical arm, turning cautiously and carefully under the control of their Nausicaan pilot. He was no Starfleet flyboy, after all. But still, he was able enough to pull the ship into position between its flanking escorts and set a course out of the nebula.

“Is our cargo secure?!” Yarev barked across at the trusted Tellerite Lieutenant who operated his ship’s tactical station and was in charge of all things security aboard Ninkaa.

He wasn’t the strongest on the crew by any stretch of the imagination, but Yarev trusted him as one of the most intelligent people he’d ever worked with. That was why he was in charge of their precious cargo and not the rest of the dumb brutes assigned to his detail.

“I secured it myself,” Toska Reev nodded slowly.

A toothy grin later and Yarev turned back to the view screen.

“Get us out of this cloud,” he instructed sternly, the Nausicaan ahead of him simply grunting in response. Vrolk was the complete opposite of Toska, save for an ability to fly. Flying was his job, and that was what Yarev needed now, despite his obvious strength.

Keeping the cruiser’s speed below full impulse, Vrolk did his best to steer the ship through the volatile gases and keep it from crashing into either escort. After a few minutes of tight flying, several small impacts on the forward shield caused the ship to veer of course and drew the ire of the Captain.

“What the grinkala was that?!” He barked, his native profanity not picked up by the translator but the meaning was clear.

At tactical, the usually quick Tellerite looked over his readings slowly, carefully. He was unsure if what he had read was true, but if it was the implications would be…

“Asteroids,” the tactical chief lied, quickly tapping at his display. What appeared as something entirely different on his display one second quickly altered to read the impact of several asteroids that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“They were hidden by the nebula gases,” the pig-faced liar told his Captain. “No way Vrolk would have spotted them,” he lied again, at least this time it was to help a fellow colleague.

Satisfied with his Lieutenant’s reply, Yarev remained silent and relaxed into his seat, blissfully unaware of the scary truth that threatened their mission.


Ecstatic grins and sighs of relief across the bridge of the Echelon-class cruiser replaced the tension of previous moments, a sign that for the time being, the successful completion of their mission was very much in their own hands once again.

“Nice work Lauren,” Noli nodded approvingly at her tactical officer, then turned her attention to the screen as the Orion vessels finally escaped from view into the final layers of the gas cloud.

“Disguising the torpedoes as asteroids…” Serath Vren stood, watching the same view as everyone else, arms folded across his chest. “It’s almost Romulan in nature.” He grinned across at his younger colleague and nodded in approval. Impressive indeed.

“Fyhya?”

Checking her sensor readings, the Bolian woman turned to the Captain, knowing exactly what she wanted to know. “Sensor readings are good Captain,” the blue-skinned flight controller told, “we’ve got them tied on the end of a string.”

“Well, keep the ball of yarn close Lieutenant,” the Captain nodded in appreciation of the flight controller’s understanding. “I want to be on top of them the second there is any sign of trouble…

…or worse.”