Prologue

Flames rained down from the sky.

Shrieks of terror filled the air as the massive space crafts sped through the air, dropping torpedo after torpedo upon the unsuspecting village. Houses exploded, buildings crumbled into dust. Wheat and corn fields became oceans of fire. Families ran through the streets, mothers and fathers carrying their youngest children, trying to escape the endless bombardment.

In the end, it seemed no one survived.

The village's salvation came minutes too late. The shuttlemade its landing in the ashy remains of a corn field. The captain of the extraordinary USS Enterprise, Christopher Pike, stepped out of the craft, his face hardened with grief for the village. His crew followed in search for survivors that no one expected to find.

Klingon raids always ended this way. In less than ten minutes the helpless village was up in flames, along with its people. In all of Pike's life as a captain, he had never found someone who had lived through a raid.

Until today.

Through the loud crackling of fire, Pike heard the sound of a child crying. Astonished, he followed the noise to a pile of half-burned wood and concrete that had once been a home. He called out, and the crying stopped. A small hand pushed what looked like a charred coffee table aside. Beneath the table sat a little girl, no older than seven or eight, curled up inside a bathtub. Tears streamed down her face, leaving pale streaks across her soot-blackened face.