Where footsteps and chatter once reverberated along the metallic halls of the mighty starship Hathaway, silence now reigned supreme. Darkness, too, had prevailed in an epic battle against the forces of light, with flashing crimson beams the only illumination for hundreds of meters in every direction. Not a sign of life could be found apart from those officers who stood watch at the gates to key locations, or the two-man security teams conducting sweeps of the ship at the order of their new captain. What they were searching for, only a handful of people knew, but many others had surmised the worst. Stories that had long since been whispered into the abyss had once again started to echo through the halls. Stories of beings capable of infiltrating a place with the greatest of ease, mimicking colleagues, friends, and even loved ones. Not just mimicking their appearance either. No, these beings could mimic voices, ticks, traits and even emotions. And when they were done mimicking one, they would move on to the next until their final objective was complete. They were, perhaps, one of the Federation’s most feared enemies. They were the Changelings.

This had happened before, and it seemed that it was happening again.

Even the command center of the starship wasn’t immune from the rumours, and the distrust. People who had worked together for an age were now sending wicked side eyes and cautious glances at one another while at their stations. If the Changelings wanted to sow the seed of doubt in the minds of the Starfleet crew, they had done it without (so far) so much as a confirmed sighting or acknowledgement they were even aboard. The only sounds that pierced the silence were that of the consoles as they beavered away, desperate to try and forget what they had heard, no one wanting to be the first to break the silent deadlock…

…but if anyone would look the threat dead in the eye it would be Lieutenant Mayr Bellurr at tactical, the half-Terran, half-Klingon subordinate to Noli.

“Captain,” she called from the tactical wall, “sensors are picking up what appears to be a debris field. Bearing zero four six mark three one nine,” she turned on her chair slightly and glanced at the Captain.

Inching forward in the command chair, the Trill mistress of the Hathaway held the arms of her chair in angst, clearing at the viewer ahead of them. “Or’uil; are we within visual range?”

“Affirmative,” the synthesised voice responded from the forward Ops panel. “Displaying now,” the Ungeat told, hands dancing among the holographic controls at his station.

Within seconds, the devastating sight of destroyed starships filled the screen; engines, saucer blades, tail fins, and an awful lot of golden-coloured hull plating. This was no Starfleet graveyard.

“Cardassians?” Keziah whispered, rising to her feet and descending the few steps to the flight deck. Standing between the two forward-most officers, she stared at the view ahead of them. “All stop,” was the instruction when she finally issued her orders, “Commence sweep for survivors.”

A sudden deceleration might have caused a disturbance among the crew on any other starship, but the far superior inertial dampeners here were more than enough to compensate for the sudden halt in momentum. All around the captain, her staff went about their duties swiftly and surely. While the chief scientist conducted the sweep for survivors, Bellurr relayed what information she had been able to ascertain.

“I’ve analysed the debris, and we’re looking at no less than six, possibly as many as eight different Cardassian vessels. What data we have suggests a mix of Hideki and Galor-class starships,” the acting tactical chief reported, her analysis ongoing. 

“Sensors are detecting life signs from three escape pods,” Akaria changed the display on the main viewer to show the location of the pods, “they appear to have gathered at the center of the field for protection, but I believe them to be short on power,” she called down from the science wall.

“That probably explains the lack of a distress call,” Commander Kauhn interjected, standing from the safety of his chair and glaring down at the captain. “Permission to beam them aboard, Captain?”

Keziah craned her neck to look back at her first officer. “Agreed,” she nodded, “have security doubled in sickbay and when they’ve been checked over, let’s put them in temporary accommodations on deck six. They’re going to have to come with us for now,” she instructed, turning back to the CONN in a form of dismissal for the XO.

As the XO departed the bridge, a security officer in tow to ensure the captain’s general orders were adhered to, the analysis of the debris field continued a pace.

“My analysis of the debris appears to indicate weapons signatures associated with the Breen,” Lieutenant Or’uil declared in his synthesised, robotic voice. “There is no doubt this destruction is a result of the Breen energy dampener.”

“Is it Rodyn?” the Captain asked in the calmest tone she could muster.

“It’s in the right general vicinity,” Teanne indicated from the CONN, “we’re only a short distance from the Kanaan system, and  a couple of light years from the nebula.” Flyboy’s more than adequate stand-in changed the main viewer to show a map of the area.

“Captain…” Akaria trailed off as she chimed in again, drawing the attention of her superior. “I think I’ve got something,” she revealed, summoning the Trill back to her position at the science wall.

Keziah walked the few steps to the rail that separates the port-side station from the flight deck and looked up at her scientist. “I’m all ears, Lieutenant,” she told impatiently.

“I believe one of the Breen ships may have been damaged,” the Risian revealed, turning in her chair to look at the spotted woman. “I’ve found a plasma trail leading away from the debris field. It’s definitely Breen in origin and is just over an hour old,” she finally elaborated, bringing a smile to the Trill’s face.

A master tactician and strategist in her own right, Keziah wasn’t naive enough to spot the very real possibility this was some sort of trap, but given the lack of solid leads, she had to go for it.

“Helm, follow that trail. Akaria, I want your sensors on the lookout for that Breen ship; I want to find it before it finds us. Mayr, do what you can to mask our approach. Let’s keep the element of surprise as long as possible,” her orders came thick and fast, drawing relieved expressions from the team who were finally happy to have something, anything, to go on.

Watching as they worked, the Captain returned to her chair for the next twenty minutes. Whilst they were yet to detect the Breen vessel, there had been some good news. Sickbay had reported that their Cardassian ‘guests’ had all been given a clean bill of health and had even volunteered a debrief to the XO and Lieutenant Tuca.

“It definitely sounds like it was Rodyn’s forces,” Kauhn told the Captain once he had returned to the bridge, “but I’m surprised they left any survivors. It’s careless,” her fellow Trill mused, returning to his seat.

“He’s taunting us,” Tuca argued, freely sitting in the chair on the captain’s left. “He wants us to know he’s out here, and that he knows we’re onto him.”

It was a keen and informed analysis from the Alzek strategist, and one the Captain appreciated. Despite the memories of five lifetimes, she could still count on one hand the number of times she had dealt with the Breen up close and personal.

Several decks down, in the privacy of her quarters, Lieutenant Prida propped herself up against the replicator as she waited for the candle she had requested to finish replicating. It had been thirty-six hours since she had got any rest, and so she had taken leave for a while to gather herself and ensure she was at her best for what was to come. Taking the replicated firestick and placing it in the carved, wooden holder she had been gifted by Noli’s NoNo, the young engineer slid her furniture out of the way and made some space around the rug in the center of her room.

Standing in the center of the mat, her eyes close at last, and after what seemed like an age, the Bajassian found herself stood atop a cliff, gazing down at the ocean below. The crashing of the waves against the rocks was oddly therapeutic. She let out a slow, controlled breath and attempted to loosen her body movements. She was stood like a statuesque soldier, and that was no way for an engineer to hold herself. She gave her shoulders a wiggle and lolled her head in a circle, letting her breathing slacken to a more casual pace. Her eyes moved with the alertness that came from heavy stress and her hands remained clenched by subconscious demand. Eventually, and only when she felt truly comfortable, did she finally unclench her hands. In a slow, measured movement, she lowered herself to the floor, cross legged, and placed her hands upon her knees. Staring out to sea, the grey-skinned half Bajoran/half Cardassian could feel her eyelids getting heavier still, drooping several times before they fully closed at last. Her breathing slowed to a fraction of what it had been and she felt herself drift off into a meditative state. Grandpa NoNo had taught her well.

At first, there was nothing. She saw nothing, and felt nothing. The emptiness lasted for several minutes until her thoughts seemed to focus on something, someone. She could see the figure, among others, in the gardens of the temple at Ashalla and a smile crept upon her face. Laughing and joking, hilarity and happiness. Wonderful emotions flowed over her. She could remember it as if it was yesterday; the day she had been accepted into Starfleet, a day of celebration.

Curious. Her eyes narrowed as her focus was drawn to a hooded figure, watching on from the shadows of the large trees in the temple gardens. The face was distorted, the facial details unfathomable despite the youngster’s best efforts to…

Wait.

The scene began to change in what seemed like a flurry of smoke. This time, the youngster felt like an outsider looking in but there was someone new, someone familiar – it was Henry. Flyboy was stood in the middle of what appeared to be some sort of crop field, his distinctive hair more than visible in the haze. He seemed to stare in the Bajassian’s direction. Only he wasn’t staring at her. No, he was staring at a hooded figure that appeared to walk directly through Prida’s apparition and engage Henry in a brawl. It was the same hooded figure, with the same distorted facial features, that had been in the temple gardens.

The engineer could feel her chest tighten, and her eyes narrowed further as she watched the brawl progress. Her colleague fought bravely against the black-clad figure. Then it happened, and her heart skipped a beat as she watched Henry fall. She yelled out in pain at the sight of her friend suffering. To her horror, the hooded figure’s head snapped around and looked directly at her, a metallic mask covering the figure’s face. The mask soon faded, causing the engineer to wake with a start.

It wasn’t that it faded, exactly. It was more of a ripple-like effect, something akin to a pebble being tossed into a pool. Only the ripple of flesh had soon dissipated and revealed another familiar face.

Finally wide awake again, and sweating profusely, the engineer made her way to the console at the side of her room, activating it and tapping in a series of commands. “Computer,” she eventually called out, “locate Doctor Torres.”

“Doctor Josue Torres is not aboard the ship.”

At the heart of deck five, the main sickbay facility was quieter than it had been all day. Cardassians who had taken up much of the medical suite had now been rehoused elsewhere on the ship, and peace had been restored. For a moment. Only for a moment. For whilst Nurse Li stood at the foot of Commander Noli’s bed, Commander Kauhn and three armed security officers burst into the facility, brandishing their weapons in all directions, clearly searching for something.

“Anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on?” the nurse called out, looking at each of the ‘intruders’ sternly, standing between them and her patients.

“Doctor Torres,” the XO responded, gesturing to the security team to lower their weapons, “we need to see the doctor, now.”

“Doctor Torres hasn’t been here in about an hour,” the enlisted woman shook her head slowly, “What is this about, Commander?”

Torres dismissed the guards and instructed them to hold positions at the entrance. When it was quiet again, the XO trained his attention on the downed officers. “Computer,” he called out, “locate Doctor Torres.”

“Doctor Josue Torres is not aboard the ship.”

That caused the head nurse more than a little concern.

“When was Doctor Torres last recorded aboard the ship?” the Trill inquired of the ship’s database. The response shocked even him.

When Captain Nazir appeared in the observation lounge several minutes later, Commander Kauhn, Lieutenant Iddar and Nurse Li were already waiting for her. These clandestine meetings off of the bridge were becoming something of a regular occurrence of late, and they were beginning to interfere with their mission objective – but that was probably what their enemies wanted.

Without waiting for the go-ahead, Kauhn began his update. “It’s Doctor Torres ma’am,” he nodded, looking at the Trill, and then the enlisted medical professional next to him. “Torres never reported aboard when the crew transfer took place. So, wherever it is now, we know who it isn’t. We also know why Henry and the others wouldn’t wake up,” the XO then handed over to Tian Li.

“Torres, or rather the Changeling, was simply covering his tracks and keeping the officers sedated,” the nurse confirmed, “I’ve already woken them, and they’ll be ready to report for duty in the next hour or so.”

“Thank you,” Nazir smiled in appreciation to the nurse, “Lieutenant Iddar, you’re in charge down there until we can confirm the whereabouts of Doctor Torres. I want you to go over everything that thing has done with a fine-toothed comb. Understood?”

No response was forthcoming, as mere seconds later, the red alert klaxon sounded across the ship once more, drawing the attention of all inside the ready room. Taking their leave, the physicians left through the port-side door, whilst the Captain and her first officer made their way onto the bridge through the archway. Before they could even make it to their seats, Tuca briefed them with the words that every officer dreaded to hear.

“We’re receiving a distress call,” the strategic operations officer revealed as he rose to his feet, “Nogura is under attack.”