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.