PROLOGUE

Wherever it was that Captain Xanthus Knight of the Starship Phantom found himself, it was completely devoid of light. Knight turned around slowly, attempting to orient himself in this strange place. He staggered forward, seeking to establish a distinguishing feature to the black void. With his sight useless, he had to rely on his other senses to guide him--touch and sound.

But it was to no avail; neither sense provided Xanthus with much clue as to his surroundings. He could find no discernible surface; even the ground seemed to elude his touch. Knight had nearly worn himself hoarse shouting for assistance, yet there were no replies--nor did there seem to be even an echo.

Knight's wild grappling with the darkness finally yielded results, though not quite as he intended. A wave of intense nausea swept over him as vertigo set in, only causing Xanthus to move about more wildly. The search continued, disconcerting moment after moment, producing nothing more than greater pain from the vertigo he felt.

And at the instant the throbbing in his head became too much to bear, Knight panicked. For a man of his stature--that of a starship Captain--it was a totally irrational response. Determination had become desperation. Unexpectedly, Knight tripped.

Xanthus fell for what seemed hours--too terrified to even scream. Just when it seemed as though his heart could take no more, he hit...the bottom?

Knight groaned painfully, then began to paw at the ground as he realized a texture to the surface he now lay on--

"Yeeouch!" The Captain jerked his left hand back after a piercing pain.

This pain focused Knight, unlike that of the vertigo. He groggily lifted his head and began blinking. It wasn't long before Xanthus could finally make out the form of his bloodied hand. A few moments more and the fuzz behind it came into focus.

Xanthus slowly stood up and took a look around. He was bewildered to find that somehow he was now in a cave. The realization washed away in mere instants, as Knight's mind snapped into focus. He'd been in this place before. He knew the moment.

A cold chill swept over Knight as the eerie silence was broken by an agonizing cry of pain. Then another scream. And another. Xanthus drew his phaser and took off running towards the source.

Almost as an afterthought, did Knight finally slow to a more cautious pace--this all seemed so familiar, though it had an ethereal quality to it. Knight felt the reality of the moment, yet something of which he couldn't explain was missing. His heart raced as he advanced through the winding cavern.

Another blood-curdling scream halted Xanthus. He grit his teeth and jerked his head back and forth, shaking off the animosity as best he could. He could feel the fury within him; he could feel a great terror ahead. And yet Knight could only wonder as to why.

He should know why. It was as if it were directly in front of him, but always remaining fuzzy. The confusion was disorienting, pushing Knight back towards the haze.

The Captain took several deep breaths. It focused him once again, but it just wasn't doing the trick this time in relaxing him.

Knight grunted and checked the power cell on the phaser; it did little more to encourage him. He pressed on anyway. Xanthus rounded a corner as the cave opened into a large cavern and abruptly stopped.

"No..." Knight whispered as he beheld the horrific scene stretched before him.

The cavern floor was littered with the burned and bloodied bodies of the Maquis. The realization struck him, suddenly it was all clear: the Maquis! The Maquis were all dead!

It was a terror that Knight had faced time and again, but that nightmare was now reality. Knight's blood boiled as he beheld the carnage. What the Federation and Cardassians could not do in five years, the Dominion had accomplished in mere weeks--the Maquis were no more. The fury was turned to rage.

Knight moved about the cavern, desperately seeking to find survivors...a survivor...anyone at all. It was clear even from casual inspection many Maquis suffered horribly before they finally died. Women, children, elderly, animals--nothing had been spared.

Knight was struck again by an intense wave of nausea as he saw the broken body of his chief lieutenant, Sakonna. Her chest and abdomen were exploded, one of her hands was completely missing--what the hell did those sons of bitches do to her!?

Knight collapsed to his knees and began to shake from the intensity of his anger. He had known these people for years; worked with them; fought with them; lived with them; now they were victims of a senseless slaughter. So many had been friends. Xanthus bowed his head in silent remorse for his fallen comrades.

From somewhere Knight heard the distinct sound of footsteps. He jumped to his feet at full alert but saw no one. Believing it to simply be his paranoia, he dismissed the sound; after all, he reasoned, the sight of this destruction would be enough to make anyone tense and on edge. Xanthus vainly continued his search.

Xanthus stopped dead in his tracks as a noise once again attracted his attention. It started out as an almost inaudible whisper--just one word repeated over and over: "Knight".

Again he surveyed the cavern to locate the source of the noise--maybe he had missed a survivor. Lord above, he hoped so.

Time passed; the search was futile--everyone was dead. The sights he had seen utterly sickened him--terrible images that would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the gruesome imagery. His attentions shifted away from the supposed noises he'd heard.

Xanthus forlornly shook his head; the Maquis hadn't deserved this cruel fate--indeed they were a hated enemy of the Cardassians, but this was beyond the worst massacre he had ever seen in his years of service in Starfleet.

He'd even been in wars before--Cardassians, Talarians, Tzenkathi, more--but even those could not compare to the atrocity that stretched before him now.

Knight's ruminations were interrupted, as an almost ghostly growl seemed to echo through the cavern. "Murderer!"

The Captain wildly scanned the cavern. "Hello?" he called out uncertainly.

No response.

"This is Xanthus Knight of Cell 117--is anybody there?"

Time passed. Still no response.

The pit of Knight's stomach twisted around as the uncertainty of the situation returned. Something wasn't right about all this. He swallowed the lump in his throat and started a hasty retreat from the cavern.

Another thought crossed his mind, and Knight cursed himself--in all of his recklessness, had he even bothered to check for any remaining enemy? For a man with finely honed reflexes, the fact that the thought hadn't occurred until now was very unsettling. The uncertainty nagged at him--something about this wasn't right. He continued his withdrawal from the cavern, but as he did so the whispers began anew. "Murderer," the whispers chanted, ever increasing in volume. Knight shook his head, covering his ears with his hands. The cavern seemed to move all around him--to circle him. All the while the din of the chanting grew and grew

When Knight could stand the uproar no longer, he froze in place. "NO!" he shouted fiercely. "This wasn't my fault!"

"Liar!" shouted one voice out of the pandemonium. "This was all your fault." The voice seemed to localize from behind him.

Knight whirled around to face his accuser. Speech--rational thought--failed him as he beheld the terrible, disconcerting apparition before him. Standing before him was no less than the mangled corpse of one of his oldest friends, Willy McHale.

"We trusted you, Knight," McHale said with certain condemnation, his one intact eye staring coldly at Knight. A gaze that seemed to pierce his very soul.

Xanthus backed slowly away as his friend's body advanced on him. Knight caught more movement out of the corner of his eye--McHale wasn't the only dead Maquis pursuing him. "This shouldn't have happened. It was not a possibility!" he reasoned, though his defense seemed to more comfort himself than the wraiths that now pursued him.

"No," Knight whispered as he continued to back away. All at once, Knight realized exactly what was wrong with the moment. "No, no, no! This cannot be happening! This was almost two years ago!"

"You cannot outrun the sins of your past forever, Knight," hissed the dead body of Sakonna, appearing at Knight's left. "You must answer for your part in this treachery." The cold, dead bodies of the Maquis continued their steady, menacing advance towards Knight.

"I...I couldn't know this would happen," Knight stammered. "I swear I never meant for this to happen."

"Excuses and lies, Knight. That's all you have," McHale spat.

The panic and desperation only grew for Xanthus--foolishly he had not paid attention to where he was going. Now, he had nowhere left to go--the dead now surrounded him. "Damn it! This wasn't my fault!" A knot formed in his stomach as the Maquis crept closer...closer...closer...

Knight gasped as he bolted upright in bed. He shivered. It was only a dream, he thought with relief.

Xanthus wiped the sweat from his brow. "This is Knight, go ahead," he replied hoarsely.

He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Lieutenant. Begin unloading our cargo."

"Knight out." Xanthus sighed heavily and flopped back down on his bed.