THE CONTAINER’S TRANSIT from the supply drone to what was presumably a warship was quick and smooth. Unless Ben Zoma missed his guess, it was made possible by some kind of tractor beam, which lifted them off the drone’s deck and put them down again a few minutes later.

According to Chen’s tricorder, the temperature in the container dropped precipitously for those few minutes, but it was climbing again just as steeply now. That meant the hold they occupied was heated, just like the drone.

Chen whispered that there was air there too—no great surprise. But it allowed them to divest themselves of their suits, which restricted movement, and they would need all the movement they could get.

Then came the big question. “Any guards out there?” asked Ben Zoma.

“We’re alone,” said Chen, his face caught in the glow of his tricorder readout.

That was the best news of all.

Their next step was to locate a data node—a task Ramirez had been assigned while they were still on the drone. Fortunately, they had accessed one on the supply ship and knew what to look for.

At the same time, Garner set about finding something resembling a shuttlebay. Ben Zoma’s plan was to split the team into two groups. One would hunt down the node, download the data, and transmit it across the ship tricorder-to-tricorder. The other group would secure a shuttle—if the warship even had one—receive the data, and retransmit it using the craft’s com system. They would hold the shuttle until the other group rejoined them.

Of course, the first officer knew that escape was a long shot. Their main priority was just to get the data off to Starfleet.

Unfortunately, Ramirez had only been searching for a few seconds before Ben Zoma’s plan hit a snag. He could tell by the security officer’s expression.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

Ramirez frowned. “Something in the bulkheads is blocking the signal. I think I can find a node, but we’re not going to be able to transmit intraship.”

“We’ve got a shuttlebay,” Garner announced, “or something like it. Three decks down.” She swore under her breath. “I just can’t tell if it’s guarded or not, thanks to that problem with the bulkheads.”

“All right,” said Ramirez, “I found a node. One deck up.”

“We can use the lift system,” Paris chimed in. His assignment had been to figure out how the invaders got around their vessel, since the drone was all on one level and didn’t need such a thing. “It’s a little like ours,” he said, “but it only moves up and down. No horizontal routes.”

“What’s the best lift for us to take?” Ben Zoma asked.

Paris studied his tricorder screen. “After we leave this room, it’s down the corridor to the right. About fifty meters.”

Ben Zoma absorbed the information. “All right. We’ll do this the hard way.” He took in the rest of the team at a glance. “We’ll download the data and carry it to the shuttlebay. And we’ll all go together, to minimize the chances of our being discovered.”

No one objected—not even McAteer. All he said was, “What are we waiting for? Let’s spring the locks.”

For once, Ben Zoma agreed with him. Turning to Horombo, whom he knew was beside him, he said, “No time like the present.”

“Aye, sir,” said Horombo.

Activating his palmlight, he gave them something to see by. Then the other security officers used their tricorders to open the locks one at a time.

That done, they slid the lid partway off the container. It gave them access to ambient light, allowing Horombo to douse his palm device.

With help from Paris, Ben Zoma peeked over the edge of the container wall. He saw the same serpentine motifs they had encountered in the supply drone, but they covered a much smaller space—perhaps five times the size of the Livingston.

At the moment, theirs was the only container in the enclosure. That supported a theory Paris had put forth that the aliens destroyed each container when they were done with it. After all, there weren’t any empties on the drone, and the warships didn’t have a lot of room for them.

Ben Zoma pulled himself over the top of the wall and lowered himself to the deck. Then he drew his phaser and whispered for the others to follow.

After they were all out, they pushed the lid back into place and reset the locks. That way if an alien entered the bay, he wouldn’t think anything was amiss. To discover that, he would have to open the container.

But the aliens might not do that for some time. And by then it would already be obvious that someone had slipped aboard the warship—because the team had either escaped or been killed for their trespass.

“Remember what we talked about,” said Ben Zoma. “We move quickly and quietly. And we stay alert.”

They all nodded by way of acknowledgment. All except McAteer. Asserting his rank, he said, “Let’s go.”

As the admiral moved off, Ben Zoma gestured for Chen to stay close to him. After all, someone had to.

They didn’t find any door controls at the cargo bay’s exit. But then, they didn’t need any. The doors opened automatically, giving them access to the corridor.

It was narrow and dimly lit. In accordance with Paris’s instructions, they went right, their phasers at the ready. But they didn’t run into any opposition.

When they reached the lift it opened for them, just as the doors to the bay had. After they piled into the narrow compartment, barely fitting their entire team, there was a tense moment when it seemed the door might not close.

But eventually, it did. And a few moments later, it opened again, giving them access to the floor above. Again, the corridor was empty. Ben Zoma thanked whatever fate had seen fit to smile on them and led the way to the node.

It looked exactly like the one they had accessed on the drone. In a matter of seconds, Horombo had it open and had begun the downloading process.

They all listened for approaching footsteps. But there weren’t any. At least, for the time being.

Above all else, Picard hated waiting. And yet, he had done more of that than anything else in the last couple of days.

At the moment, he was doing his waiting in his ready room. He was going over reports from helm, weapons, engineering, security, even medical—assurances that everyone would be ready when the battle got under way. And that would have been fine, except he had gone over the reports twice already.

There was simply nothing left to do. Nothing but watch the stars and wait for the enemy to emerge from among them.

The captain was pleased when he heard the chime that told him someone wanted a word with him. If nothing else, it would serve as a break in the monotony.

“Come,” he said.

It was Wu. And judging from the vaguely troubled look on her face, she had just come from another visit with Lieutenant Ulelo.

“Anything new?” Picard asked.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Unfortunately. All I’m doing is making him more agitated with all my questions.”

“Perhaps you should let up for a while.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Or perhaps I should push even harder. I just don’t know.”

It wasn’t often that Wu allowed herself to express uncertainty. The fact that she had chosen to do so now was a measure of how very difficult her assignment was.

But the captain couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else. “You will figure it out,” he said. “I know you will.”

The second officer smiled. “I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“It is well founded,” Picard assured her.

At least she didn’t have to go over reports for the third time. Of everyone on the Stargazer, Wu was the only one who still had an unfinished assignment.

He almost envied her.

Ben Zoma and his team had been downloading information from the aliens’ data node for almost three minutes when McAteer clapped Garner on the shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said.

“I’m not finished,” the security officer told him.

“Yes, you are,” said McAteer.

“But, sir—” Garner started.

The admiral raised a hand to cut her off. “I don’t think it’s wise to push our luck, Lieutenant. We need to get out of here before we’re discovered.”

Garner obviously disagreed, but it wasn’t her place to say so. Instead, she looked to Ben Zoma.

“There’s a lot more data to be gathered,” the first officer pointed out, keeping his tone reasonable so as not to antagonize McAteer. “We’re only going to get one shot at this. We may as well get everything we can.”

The admiral stared at him. For a moment, Ben Zoma was certain that McAteer was going to put his foot down. Then something seemed to soften in him.

“All right,” he said, “have it your way, Commander. We’ll keep going for a while.”

Ben Zoma nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

He woke up in the heavy, pulsating darkness, his skin clammy, his heart pounding. Before he knew it, he was sitting bolt upright, waiting for awareness to come.

But it didn’t. There was only the starless night, always and forever. He couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t there, when he knew something hard and real to hang on to.

And who was he, in that stark, black night? What was his name, his parentage, his place in the universe?

He didn’t know—either who he was or what he was doing there. He didn’t know anything.

I am someone, he insisted. I have a name, a body, a face. I come from somewhere.

All he had to do was dredge it out of the depths, drag out the answers that would create his world piece by piece. All he had to do was remember.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness relented. Things took on shape and substance around him. The bed he was sitting in, drenching the covers with his sweat. A chair. A set of clothes draped over the back of it.

And outside, someone. A person, like himself. A female. As he watched, she turned to him.

“Lieutenant?” she said.

Her tone was one of concern. But more than that was what she had said. Lieutenant. He was a lieutenant.

Yes…on a ship. With other crewmen, a great many of them. He could see them in his mind’s eye, walking the corridors, dressed in red and black uniforms.

Then it came to him—what he was, where he was. Who he was. My name is Ulelo, he told himself. Dikembe Ulelo. I’m a communications officer on the Stargazer.

But no…he was more than that, wasn’t he? He was a plant, a spy who had come to the Stargazer to transmit information about the ship to his comrades.

And who were they, again? He couldn’t remember. It was insane. He had sent out that information at great risk to himself. Whom had he done it for?

And why? For the love of reason, why?

Ulelo had no answer—though he had a feeling he had posed the question before. It was as if there were a great, dark abyss at his feet, an echoing, bottomless gulf that swallowed everything he needed to know.

Suddenly, he saw it—the abyss, as if it had always been there. It was immense, a universe unto itself. He could feel the chill rising from it, smell its fetid breath.

And it wasn’t just his memories that it craved, sucking them down into its depths with infinite hunger. It was Ulelo himself—because without his memories he was nothing…

Nothing at all.

He felt empty in the presence of all that darkness, so empty. There was no substance to him, no weight, nothing to keep him anchored to the ground. And the abyss was so hungry, so insistent on having him.

Ulelo didn’t want to be drawn in, but he had no strength to stop himself. He could feel himself falling, twisting in a decay-breath of wind, surrounded by it, engulfed by it….

No! he screamed, frantic to get back to the brink where he had stood. But it was soaring up and away from him, more impossible to reach with every breathless second.

No! he shrieked, his cries consumed by the rush of darkness all around him. Nooo…!