A/N: Omg, I can't believe it. I'm not even sure how many years it's been since I've uploaded anything to FFN. It's been so long that I forgot how to do it and had to re-learn. As it is, this is my tentative though likely brief return to fictdom so reviews are appreciated. This happens to be my first Trek fic so. Yeah.

Standard disclaimer of 'work of fiction and claim of no ownership to any of the named and licensed characters appearing in this piece'. In other words, please don't sue me, it's not worth it.

Chapter 1: Ghosts

Over? It was never over. They thought they had won—all of them. With due respect, considering the situation, it would be a rather simple conclusion to draw. It was there that the mistake was made. But it was fine. Lulled they all were; pacified by their unflagging sense of victory. It was something that he had not, even in the time of his awakening, understood by the gimping creatures that insisted on calling themselves human. A folly throughout the ages proven time and again…when one sought true domination over the vanquished, it was only correct and proper to subjugate and systematically dismantle the conquered until they are crushed into dust and memory. When such measures were not seen through to nearly suffocating detail, one risked a resurgence more powerful than anything that could be suspected from ghosts. Which was what he was now. A ghost. Put down properly but not properly exercised. No. He was left to slink through the darkened corridors of minds he knew he still haunted. A shadowy figure lurking just beyond the reach of worth but still a peddler of attention…no matter how foolish or fanciful. This state was also where he was the most powerful. He reveled in the cornucopia of possibilities. But one thing at a time. First he had to open his eyes.

The sound within the metal and glass coffin was not unlike a deep meditative breath passing over skin chilled to the point of crystalized immortality. The protective hatch slid back with a neat hiss as the unpleasant but functional air passed into lungs and out again as nature dictated. Eyelids would crack and open in a near languid fashion, reading only darkness above. It wasn't a simple darkness to be batted away with a lazy audible command…or even the activation of a P.A.D.D.'s indicator lights. This darkness was palpable and smothering like a hot and damp woolen blanket on a warm humid night. It was perfect. Long legs would swing over the side of the veritable time capsule and plant feet solidly on cold clean metal. Sterile metal. Despite the utter absence of light, there was a sense of perception, a recognition of actualization that kept the confusion of the unknown at bay. Suddenly that hot and damp woolen blanket had become a cloak of cool silk—luxurious and satisfying. Full weight had now been shifted to those feet standing upon that metal floor, carrying a lithe form through the blackness of unfamiliarity. Slender digits reached out, palpating the monochromatic reality, soft finger pads sending important messages to the superior brain that commanded their movements. Hands would glint and glide off the tell-tale outlines of other resident cryo-tubes. One, two, eight…more. It was only an assumption that they were all together. They were always together, even when they were apart. Or at least that was the sentiment so voraciously clung to.

Ah, a panel.

Pressing an ear to the cleave in the portal that was the difference between freedom and storage, the muffled sounds of nothing filtered through. Moments passed revealing additional nothing, and more nothing thereafter. Silence. Silence within, and beyond. This was ideal, but ultimately there was no way to be sure that absence begot this silence. Or more, the lack of vigilance. Life, no matter how simple or complex, was about choices, and each choice was a carefully calculated set of odds and computations that ultimately tipped in or out of one's favor. Humans and other select humanoids often called this logic-based phenomenon 'risk', or more whimsically, a gamble. Now was the time to enter into such a weighty scenario. The risks were high, but the return would—ideally—be more than worth it. The panel illuminated. The soft shade of blue against the unrelenting dark was a welcome addition to the decidedly oppressive environment. Just a single touch more and a quaint dose of haptic feedback would be the last prerequisite to satisfy before the portal slowly, silently yield. Despite the dimness of the new outside, the flood of lowered light was more than enough for piercing blue eyes to adjust favorably. Those dimmed lights also provided another service…the promise of a clandestine egress.

A/N: Short. Yes. I'm trying to warm up to something longer later. Thanks for reading!