Somewhere in deep space, lost admid the thin sprinkling of cosmic matter more commonly referred to as "planets and stars", a small starship furtively flitted about. The ship was obviously searching for something, but what could be found in this wasteland? The ship was currently in what was generally known as "The Neutral Zone." This strip of space represented the border between the United Federation of Planets and the Romulan Star Empire. Now, the tiny ship in question had the familiar silver and blue color scheme of a Starfleet ship, and, as such, had no business being where it currently was. Sooner or later it would attract the attention of a Romulan patrol ship. Oddly enough, that was exactly what the little ship wanted! Inside the ship, six Humans wearing the uniforms of Starfleet officers worked at familiar tasks. Engineering, Ops, Conn and the Captain's chair were all filled with men diligently going about their normal, everyday duties. However, there was nothing normal or everyday about this ship. For one thing, each of the Humans on board had eyes the color of lemon meringue pudding and, secondly, clinging to the ceiling of the Bridge, out of sight of the comm system, so that its image wouldn't be broadcast during any communications, was a long, black, sinuous body. Snake-like, except for the presence of several pairs of legs which sprouted at regular intervals along its body, the last of the Black Queens oversaw its little kingdom - a kingdom which was about to become much larger! "Romulan Warbird de-Cloaking 250 kilometers away!" came the excited shout from the man at the Ops console. Although he wore the red uniform of the command staff and bore the pips that established him as a Lieutenant Commander, the man's loyalties had been transferred to his Dark Mistress weeks ago and he now whole-heartedly served the Black Queen to the utmost of his abilities. "D'Dederix Class! Its a big one!" the man in the captain's seat jumped up, gleeful excitement lighting up his face. "Exssssscellent my little pawnsssss!" the Queen sent the thought into the minds of her Thralls - complete with an extra helping of esses! The main viewscreen snapped to life showing the face of an angry Romulan, "This is Commander Pixiestix of the Romulan Patrol Craft ChexMix. Please state the reason for this breach of treaty and violation of Romulan space..." The Romulan Commander's voice trailed off as a look of complete horror passed over his face. He seemed to be struggling with some sort of mental problem. Suddenly, he looked down at the floor of his Bridge. When he lifted his head, several long seconds later, the look of horror was gone. His eyes were now a sickly shade of bright yellow! With a slight nod back towards the Utricularia (for that was, indeed, the name of the small, Starfleet ship) the Romulan reached down to the arm of his chair. Activating a control he announced throughout his ship, "Chief Engineer Pickupstix, Sub Commander Pretzelstix and Sub Commander Fiddlestix report to the Tactical Operation Room, immediately!" Commander Pixiestix made his way down to that Tactical Operations room, while the Black Queen on board the Utricularia rode in his mind, with him. When the pair finally entered the room they found the other three already waiting for their captain. Within minutes the Black Queen had subsumed the wills of these new Romulans and the room had taken on a decidedly jaundiced tinge as the four pairs of yellow eyes gleamed. Sharing a nod, the four dispersed, two going towards Main Engineering and the others heading for the Bridge. Pixiestix and Fiddlestix emerged onto the bridge from the aft turbolift and took their places - Pixiestix taking the captain's seat and Fiddlestix relieving the officer at the Romulan equivalent of Ops. Minutes after they had taken their places, an alarm began to ring out, "Emergency! Emergency! Quantum Singularity Breach in two minutes! Quantum Singularity Breach in two minutes! All personnel abbandon ship! All personnel abbandon ship!" "Alright everyone!" Pixiestix shouted, "I don't know what's wrong but we better get off this ship, now! I'll stay behind and lock out the command protocols in case this is some sort of Starfleet trick. Sub Commander Fiddlestix, you will assist me!" "Yes, Sir!" Fiddlestix affirmed, somewhat too enthusiastically. "Don't wait for us, we'll take the escape pod off of the Ready Room! Now go!" The crew hurried to get to safety as the alarm klaxons shrilled their gloomy message - now complete with a 'countdown to doom'®. After the crew had evacuated the Bridge, Fiddlestix locked out the turbolift access so that only he, Pixiestix, Pickupstix and Pretzelstix could reach the Bridge, then he went over to the internal scanner display. "Evacuation nearly complete, Sir. 38 Romulan lifesigns still on board." "Excellent! Let me know when the last is safely away." "Yes, Sir" Several more seconds passed while the irritationg alarm droned on. Finally, Fiddlestix announced, "All clear, Sir!" "Excellent, again! You know what to do, Fiddlestix." "Yes, Sir!" Fiddlestix shouted, way too enthusiastically. The young Sub Commander contacted Main Engineering where Pretzelstix quickly silenced the false alarm that he and Pickupstix had triggered. Then Fiddlestix made his way over to the Tactical Console where he powered up the ship's disruptor array and targetted the helpless escape pods! With a truly maniacal grin on his face, he blasted pod after pod into dust, all the while muttering comments like - "Take that "miss too good to be seen in public with a mere Sub Commander!"" "Ha! Lets see who's better at tri-d chess now!" "Teach you to get in front of me in the chow line!" "No more of that stinky cologne! Woo-Who" "I'll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!" As Fiddlestix's liturgy of vengeance against, apparently, the entire crew died down, Pixiestix recieved new orders from the Black Queen. Nodding his understanding (not that nodding was necessary), he ordered Pickupstix to engage the Cloak and then ordered Fiddlestix to follow the Utricularia. The Black Queen's little hunting party was off to a great start, but it wasn't over, yet. Not by a long shot. Thralls, once given an order by their Dark Mistress, carry out that order to the absolute best of their abilities. Their creativity centers are actually stimulated by the en-Thrallment and, consequently, they oftentimes display considerably more talent after becoming a Thrall then they ever did before. However, this new, enhanced creativity is focused solely on their orders, they don't offer suggestions unless specifically asked and they don't take on additional duties or responsibilities. They become so involved in just fufilling their orders that they don't much pay attention to anything else. This is why it was never noticed by the crews of the ChexMix or the Utricularia that, during the evacuation panic, someone had stumbled into one of the Cloak projectors throwing it slightly out of alignment. The Warbird was still completely hidden, but one of the projectors was actually skimming the hull with its Cloaking field. This skimming resulted in regular, albeit miniscule, puffs of charged ions being given off by the hull. Almost impossible to find unless someone was actively looking for them, the puffs followed the ships deep into Federation territory. To be Continued!