"Coming up on the Breen system now, sir," reported Lt. Iv'Oor from the helm.

"Take us into standard orbit," ordered Whitman, "Lieutenant Nicot, hail the planet."

"Aye sir." Nicot tapped at his console's controls. Within seconds, a Breen appeared on the Phantom's view screen.

"This is Captain Daniel Whitman of the USS Phantom."

The Breen on the view screen simply stared at Whitman.

Whitman continued, "We're here to pick up the envoy that will be guiding us through your frontier."

"You will be notified shortly when the envoy is ready to beam up." With that, the Breen cut the transmission.

"Friendly as usual," muttered Iv'Oor from helm control.

"Lieutenant Iv'Oor, I expect that there will be no more comments like that while the envoy is on board--that goes for everyone," warned Whitman.

Iv'Oor responded meekly, "Aye sir."

Nicot's console beeped. "Captain, the Breen are sending us a message. The Envoy is ready to beam up."

"Acknowledge them and tell them we're ready. Rojc, Senishra, join me in transporter room 2."

Whitman walked into the transporter room, followed closely by Senishra and Rojc.

The transporter powered up, and within moments, the Breen envoy had materialized.

"Welcome aboard the Phantom," greeted Whitman, "This is my first officer, Commander Senishra, and my chief of security, Commander Rojc."

"Rojc . . ." hissed the Breen. He paused for a moment, glaring at Rojc. "I am Thot Neeron X'Ro'Us of the First Imperial Breen Fleet. You may address me as 'Thot Neeron.'"

"Uh, yes," replied Whitman, slightly distracted, "If you'll follow Commander Rojc, he will lead you to your quarters so you can get settled in."

"Hrrrmm." The Breen stepped off the pad and walked out the door, with Rojc following.

"Senishra, is it just me, or did you notice the friction between those two, as if they had met before?" asked Whitman.

"They have met before, sir."

Rojc trudged down the hall, with the Breen envoy following him close behind. Rojc was the first to break the silence. "So, you finally escaped from that prison camp?"

Neeron said nothing.

Rojc continued, "I hadn't heard of any treaty or anything. The Romulans must have kept it under tight wraps."

"I'm surprised your Romu'sagan s'arc'hva told you nothing of my escape," replied Neeron bitterly.

Rojc stopped abruptly and turned around. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short. He turned back around and started walking again.

"You know she's the only reason you survived that camp. You were her pet prisoner," growled Neeron, mockingly.

This time Rojc couldn't contain his words. "You! You're just upset that I foiled your pathetic little plot to kill her!" shouted Rojc, enraged, "If you had killed her like you were planning, they would have exterminated the whole lot of us. You should be grateful to me for having your life spared!"

Neeron broke out laughing. "You're a very entertaining. If it were not so, I would have killed you." Neeron continued laughing.

Rojc turned red in the face. "Your quarters are this way." Rojc continued down the hall, Neeron continued laughing, the whole way.

The chime to Whitman's ready room rang. "Enter," said Whitman.

Rojc walked in. "You wanted to see me Captain?"

"Yes I did. Sit," replied Whitman, "I am curious of how Thot Neeron knows you."

Rojc sat facing Whitman. "That's a classified matter."

Whitman looked at Rojc. "Don't give me that, Dade. If there is going to be a potential conflict between you and the Envoy, I want to know the history."

Rojc sighed. "As I'm sure you're aware, I was once imprisoned in a Romulan Prison Camp."

"Yes, there is mention of it in your file."

"Well, Neeron was among the prisoners at that camp."

"Go on."

"About a month after my arrival, by accident, I overheard Neeron's plot to kill the overseer of the camp. I decided that this would not be wise to allow, and thwarted that attempt."

"I see."

"What Neeron resented most, was the fact that I received special privileges for having saved the Romulan overseer."

This time, it was Whitman who sighed. "I hope this isn't going to be a problem."

"No sir."

"Good. Dismissed." Rojc got up to leave. "And Rojc--stay away from Thot Neeron."

"How would Rojc know a Breen general?" asked Guitarrez.

"Yeah," added Arona, "Rojc doesn't seem like the type to be friends with a Breen."

"Obviously, you are unaware that Commander Rojc was in a Romulan prison camp for a year. According to him, that's where they met," replied Senishra.

"What!?! Tell us more, Senishra," asked Iv'Oor with surprise.

"It is a classified matter. And I advise that you do not ask Commander Rojc about it."

"Well, then, how would you know so much about it?" questioned Guitarrez with a grin.

"Dade . . . Commander Rojc and I . . . we are friends," replied Senishra, stammering ever so slightly.

"Friends. Uh-huh. That's why you know him soooo well," snickered Arona.

"It is merely a platonic friendship, nothing more," said Senishra with a hint of embarrassment.

"No way!" said Guitarrez excitedly, "You like him, you really like him!"

Senishra glanced around the mess hall. "And how did you come to that wild supposition?"

"Your reaction says it all. The way you blushed, the tone of your voice, it was all pretty obvious," replied Guitarrez.

Senishra looked nervous. "Surely it is not that obvious."

"Normally, probably not. But for a Vulcan . . . " came Iv'Oor's reply.

"Does he know?" asked Arona mischievously.

"Do you want to hear about why Rojc was in a Romulan prison camp or not?" she answered.

"Designated coordinates arrived at," reported the Andorian from helm.

"Onscreen," ordered Senishra. A display of complete an utter destruction appeared on the view screen. Whitman and Senishra stood up hesitantly.

"Let's begin this simply. Do a full scan of the region and tell me initial results."

Rojc began his sensor sweeps. After a moment, he looked up from his console. "Captain . . ." Whitman looked up at Rojc in acknowledgment. "I don't need the results of the full scan to tell you this: readings coming in now undoubtedly indicate a Romulan attack."

Whitman frowned.

"However, there's something . . . unusual. I just can't explain it," Rojc added.

The Neeron looked indignant, but remained silent.

Whitman turned to Neeron. "Is there something you would like to add, Thot Neeron?"

Neeron scowled. "This is not the place to discuss such things."

Whitman surveyed the Bridge. After a moment, he tapped his communicator. "All Senior Staff members please report to the Observation Lounge."

Within moments, Commander Guitarrez and Dr. Arona joined the rest of the senior staff in the lounge and took their respective seats.

Whitman spoke first. "Thot Neeron, you were saying?"

Neeron muttered something in Breen. "Before I continue, I demand blood screenings for every person in this room."

There was a stunned silence. "Are you--" Knight was cut off.

"Yes I am absolutely sure, Captain."

Whitman turned to Arona. "Doctor, see to it please."

Arona stood up. "I'll have to go to sickbay then."

"All right Doctor. Please do so quickly." Arona promptly left, leaving the Observation Lounge silent. After a few minutes, Arona returned with the hypos. She slowly made her way around the conference table, administering the test to each member. Everyone was who they seemed.

Arona came up to Neeron. "And how shall we test you?"

He glared at Arona. He took his knife from his belt, and thrust it through his hand. A greenish-blue ooze seeped from the wound onto the table. "Satisfied?"

Whitman looked at the Breen. "Are we ready to continue then?"

Neeron looked up from his wound and scanned the room. "I was present when the attack took place. The ships were undoubtedly Romulan." Neeron hesitated. "There was something amiss about the attack—-it was uncharacteristic of the Romulans."

Senishra turned to the Breen. "Could you explain?"

"No. I cannot." Neeron turned to Rojc. "Did you not notice something strange?"

Rojc leaned back into his chair. "We'd need to do a detailed analysis of the entire area. And we'd need access to sensor logs from your ships that were here during the attack."

The last comment seemed to make Neeron nervous. "I can not grant your request for log access. It is restricted."

Rojc stared directly at Neeron for a long moment before saying anything. "Weapon testing. This is, or was a weapon facility."

The Breen was stunned. He coldly returned Rojc's stare. "Yes. Your Commander Rojc is correct. This was a top secret installation."

Captain Whitman looked slightly rattled. "How critical are the logs, Commander?"

Rojc never stopped staring at Neeron. "I doubt we can conclusively find anything out unless we have those logs."

Senishra spoke up. "Is it possible to obtain the logs from one of the wrecks that have not be taken away?"

Neeron turned to Senishra. "Unlikely." He turned his gaze to Commander Guitarrez. "But it ultimately depends on the capability of your Engineering crews."

Guitarrez looked offended. "Whatever you've got, I'm sure we can handle."

Whitman held up his hands. "All right, lets proceed with this investigation. Engineering—-get your crews to as many of the derelicts as possible and get them working on restoring power to their computer cores. First—-I want you to lead the Science Department's investigation. I want detailed scans and analysis's of every square meter of this area of space. Tactical--I want you and your people analyzing every detail of the logs and analysis's."

Iv'Oor looked at the Captain. "Anything else, sir?"

"Yes-—I want preliminary reports by 1400 tomorrow. Dismissed." The senior staff filed out of the lounge, each immediately seeing to the details of their investigations.

Guitarrez entered Engineering. "Dolby, Jackson, Fuji, Hersch—assemble your teams and prepare for a salvage mission. Tell your teams to be prepared for Breen tech. Williams, Sanas, Dell, Sto'cha—you're with me."

Within seconds, Main Engineering was a flurry of activity. People ran from one station to the other, replacements were called in for duty stations, and equipment was quickly being pulled from nearby storage lockers. After five minutes, the teams were assembled and ready to go, crowded around Guitarrez.

"All right people. There are roughly a dozen vessels out there that are within acceptable safety parameters. Each team will take one and go from there. We've got 'til 1400 tomorrow to get these hulks up and running. That means triple shift, people. Remember, this is of the utmost importance…and classified. No one discusses their findings with anyone except the members of their teams and with me. One last thing, if you see anything that's not right, walk away and request beam out. Dismissed."

The assembled group of Engineers instantly broke up into their groups and headed for a Transporter Room.

Alpha team had gotten the luck of the draw—-the I'C'Jushi'taka was arguably in the best condition of all the derelicts. Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that the Chief was their team leader.

The inside of the ship was, nevertheless, a horrid sight. Bodies were mashed into bulkheads and floors, a horrible stench hung in the air.

"How's that for ironic-—environmental systems still work. Their IDF/SIF gave out," uttered Lieutenant Michael Sanas.

Guitarrez gave Sanas a dirty look. "Trim the chatter. We've got a lot of work to do."

The rest of the Engineers responded simultaneously with a "Yes ma'am."

Ensign Sto'cha sat at a bridge console. After a moment of tapping at the controls, he turned to Guitarrez. "Security protocols seem locked on the Bridge. We might have better luck in their Main Engineering section."

Guitarrez sighed—-she hated to split up her team. "Then we'll do this the hard way. Dell, Williams, Sanas—head to the Engineering section and see what you can do from down there. Sto'cha and I will stay to see if we can break the protocols from here."

The three engineers nodded their heads and exited the bridge.

Back on the Phantom, Rojc, Iv'Oor, and Nicot sat in the Security Briefing Room.

"I'm impressed. Beta and Delta teams already restored and accessed their first assignments." Rojc rubbed his eyes as the data flooded his PADD.

The three officers slumped in their seats, no sound heard except for the occasional beeping of a PADD.

After several moments, Iv'Oor threw up her hands in disgust. "Well this ship is a bust."

Rojc put down his PADD, but Nicot continued to scan his.

"I'd pretty much have to agree," added Rojc, looking over at Nicot.

Nicot still seemed fixated on his PADD. After a couple more seconds, Nicot looked up at Rojc and Iv'Oor. "Don't tell me you're giving up so easily!" He grinned. "There's a lot of data in these logs."

Iv'Oor looked doubtful. "How can you make out anything from files this corrupted?"

"Any type of software or computer file of any type, for that matter, is never useless to me." He showed his PADD to Rojc and Iv'Oor—their jaws dropped.

"How'd you do that?" Rojc was astonished.

Nicot chuckled. "I'd tell you, but by the time I finished, you still wouldn't understand, and it'd be 1400 tomorrow. When I told you I could do anything with a computer, it was no idle boast."

Iv'Oor and Rojc were speechless.

Nicot was still grinning. "I'll reconstruct the rest of the data as it comes in-—I can finish up here tonight."

Rojc seemed unsure. "Nicot—-"

"Its alright, Rojc. There's nothing more for you to do anyway."

"I suppose. Good night Nicot."

"Nite, Nicot," added Iv'Oor.

Iv'Oor and Rojc exited the Security Briefing Room. Rojc turned towards his office.

"Aren't you leaving, Dade?" asked Iv'Oor.

"Not quite yet," he answered. "I've got some work to catch up on--now's as good of a time as any."

She wryly smirked at him. "Good night, Dade."

"Good night, Melina."

Iv'Oor turned and walked out the door. Rojc sighed and sat behind the desk in his office. Reluctantly, he turned on his desk terminal.

Sto'cha sat taping at the Breen terminal. It was nearly 0200 and still Alpha team hadn't cracked the Breen Security. After a moment she slouched into the chair. "I'm sorry, Chief. Nothing."

Guitarrez sighed and relaxed into her chair. She tapped her communicator. "Guitarrez to Sanas."

"Sanas here."

"We're falling behind here--any luck?"

"Sorry, Chief. I'm at a loss to explain it. This ship has some heavy duty security."

"Well, do what you can. If we can't get something soon, we'll move onto the next one. Guitarrez out."

Guitarrez looked over to Sto'cha. "Well Sto'cha, lets give it one more shot."

Sto'cha turned back to the terminal and began tapping at the controls. A look of frustration creased her delicate features. Likewise, Guitarrez worked at her terminal, desperately trying to crack the ship's security.

The comm chirped. "Sanas to Guitarrez."

Guitarrez tapped her communicator. "Tell me you have something."

Guitarrez smiled broadly. "Good work, you three."

Sto'cha slapped her terminal. "Ha! S'bout time." She punched a few commands. "Routing ship's logs to the Phantom."

"Transfer in progress." Guitarrez looked over at Sto'cha. "See if you can't speed up the transfer rate, we're running behind the rest of the teams."

"Aye, Chief." Sto'cha added a few more commands. Unexpectedly, the Breen ship's warning klaxons came on. Sto'cha did a double-take. "That's not right."

Guitarrez got up and moved to Sto'cha's terminal, concerned. "What is it?"

Sto'cha said nothing for a moment before pointing at the terminal display. "There was a ship, right there."

"What!? It had to have been a sensor ghost or a glitch." Guitarrez bent over and tapped at the terminal. She promptly tapped her communicator after triple checking the data. "Guitarrez to all Engineering crews, prepare to return to the Phantom immediately."

Back on the Phantom, Senishra stood in front of the master display, in front of the astrometrics lab, studying a near-by nebula.

One of the lieutenants spoke up. "Commander, I just got strong indications of a tachyon surge."

Senishra turned to face the lieutenant. "Show me."

The sensor readings popped up on the lab's master display. She raised an eyebrow. "It suggests the presence of a cloaked ship. Did we get anymore readings from it?"

"Negative, Commander."

"Take over here, Lieutenant." Senishra turned and left the lab.

Within moments, the senior staff and Thot Neeron were once again assembled in the conference lounge.

"There is no doubt, Captain. There is a cloaked ship out there," reported Senishra.

Whitman faced the Thot. "Care to explain, Thot Neeron?"

Neeron looked upset. "I'm sure it is a standard patrol ship, nothing more."

"Then why was it cloaked?" asked Nicot.

"And why was there only one ship?" added Rojc.

"That is standard procedure in a hazard zone. While the Phantom may be here, the Imperium still feels this sector to be a direct threat to invasion. As such, it is only natural to assume that patrols are still in place."

Guitarrez's face showed doubt. "The readings we got from the ship we were on indicate that it may not have been a Breen vessel."

Whitman turned to face his Chief Engineer. "Romulans?"

"No sir. The ship was too small, and didn't seem to have a Romulan signature."

Neeron snorted and walked over to the computer display. Without delay, he tapped at the computer console. After a moment, the sensor image changed to match a ship Neeron brought up on screen. "This is what you saw. It is a high-speed tactical fighter, much like your own. Its existence is not widely known outside of Breen space."

Whitman looked relieved. "Has there been any further sign of cloaked vessels?"

"Absolutely nothing," Rojc informed the Captain.

"They have no doubt already left. Our patrols move quickly."

"Very good." Whitman gestured to Neeron's seat. "Since we are here now, let's hear preliminary reports."

Senishra started. "The Science Department is still some twenty hours away from completing scans. So far, nothing unusual."

Guitarrez went next. "We were able to pull the logs off of nine of the derelicts, so far. We're working on cleaning them up now."

Rojc glanced at Guitarrez. "Lieutenant Nicot may be able to help you with that—he's done wonders with the Tactical Department's copies thus far. As for our analysis, we have nothing significant to report at this time."

"I want final reports prepared by 1000 tomorrow. We will remain on Yellow Alert for the duration of the mission. Dismissed."

Rojc reluctantly entered the security office and sat down behind his desk. "And starship duty is supposed to be easy," he muttered. After a moment of resting his eyes, he bent forward in his chair and turned on the desk terminal. Various personnel reports on shipboard security filled the display. As the data scrolled down the display, Rojc slowly drifted into a light sleep.

He was abruptly woken up when the terminal beeped loudly. It was 0800--Rojc had fallen asleep. He sleepily turned off the alarm and glanced at the display. What he saw awakened him fully. He tapped a few commands into the console. Maybe the sensors didn't confirm it, but Rojc could swear that something was attached to the hull. And the fact that it was by Neeron's quarters didn't help the matter.

Rojc jumped to his feet and grabbed a nearby phaser. Maybe it was nothing--but he'd soon find out.

"Its 0800. Gamma shift is relieved." The Captain stepped onto the bridge and took his place at the command chair.

The Alpha shift personnel filed into the bridge, replacing the Gamma officers. As Lieutenant Jack Wallace stepped away from the Tactical station, a warning appeared on the Tactical display. In the midst of the duty change, it went unnoticed. As quickly as it had activated, it was cut off--cut off by Lieutenant Commander Rojc from the main security office.

Rojc stepped out of the turbo lift and headed down the corridor. He soon stood in front of the Neeron's guest quarters. After a moment of hesitance, Rojc overrode the door locks and barged in. What he saw shocked him, and that shock jolted him enough to slow down his responses. As he moved one arm to tap his communicator, and the other to draw his phaser, a green bolt squarely hit him the chest. He was dragged feet first into the room and the doors closed.