Livilla paced the bridge of the Narada II, a sleek bird-of-prey given to her by a sympathizer in the Romulan military. The ship was heavily armed and faster than any Federation craft, with thick shields and a cloaking device. Its most important feature, however, was the transporter they had taken from the Galileo, a Federation ship that had been limping towards a base on the edge of the Neutral Zone after colliding with an asteroid. She didn't even make it halfway. The crew was perfect for her needs too. Just placid enough to be obedient, just fiery enough to be vicious, just dumb enough to be fearless, just bright enough to be dangerous, and dead shots.

"Course set, ma'am."

"Excellent. Let us remind the Federation that we are their worst enemy. And it's Commander, not ma'am."

"Yes, Commander."

…

Boring. Why does this job have to be so damn boring. I thought a security position in Starfleet would involve a little more than just patrolling the corridors. But here I am, inspecting the escape pods for the umpteenth time this week.

A roaring explosion tore through the base, destroying everything in its path.

…

"I can't believe it."

"An entire starbase destroyed, no survivors and barely any wreckage?"

"This is impossible."

"What could do that?"

"Never mind what, who could do that?"

"If everyone could just calm the hell down!" The bridge of the Enterprise fell silent. "Thanks. Now there are no leads as to who did this as of yet, but I'm sure something will turn up. Anyone who had family or friends on the base has the rest of the week off."

"Is it her?"

The question came seemingly out of thin air, giving voice to what everyone on the ship had been wondering.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It's too early to tell." Kirk's hand went to his neck, seemingly involuntarily. When he realized his crew were staring, he put it down and cleared his throat awkwardly. "As I said, there are no leads yet. If you had loved ones on the base, you have the week off to cope. If you don't, please return to your previous activities." The crew dispersed, talking nervously amongst themselves.

"Captain."

"How many times have I told you to call me Jim? Especially now that we're together."

"Approximately 175 times."

"It was a rhetorical question, Spock."

"Is it her though? Could it be her?"

"It could be anyone, Spock."

"Ashayam, if it is her, you are in serious danger."

"I'll be fine, Spock. Really."

…

"Our next target, Commander?"

"Choose any planet and get it done."

"Everyone dead, or is 90% satisfactory?

"Everyone."