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From: Sean Corbett <scorbe1@gl.umbc.edu>
To: Joseph Young <jfy@tivoli.com>
Subject: STAR TREK : DARKEST DAYS
Date: Fri, 20 Jan 1995 12:49:35 -0500
X-Sender: scorbe1@umbc8.umbc.edu
(Sorry about taking so long, couldn't get on a system...anyway, there is
one huge mistake in the story (But it doesn't effect anything really)
which has Chakotay as the first officer of Voyager (I wrote this before
details were known. Anyhow, there are spelling and grammar mistakes, but
those are because I wrote and posted on first draft...no time to do
otherwise. Enjoy)
- *************************** **************
STAR TREK : DARKEST DAYS
written by Sean Corbett
************ ************** ************ **************
Historians Note:
The events that take place in this story are
to take place one month after the incedent at
Virdian III. (See Generations.)
***** ***** ****
PROLOGUE
The rain continued to fall on the remains of the four century old
house, burnt to the ground only a month before. Former Captain of the
starship Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, stood at what would had been the
front doorway, looking at the wreckage, knowing his entire family had
perished in it. He was the last of the Picards, a family knee deep in
costume and culture, and tradition. All of what the millenia old family
had been now rested on the shoulders of one man.
For the thirtieth day, Picard had come to pay homeage, to grieve,
to look on in disbelief at the fate of his only living relatives. The
rain that had fallen had soaked the ground, letting the ashes of the
wooden home swell and give off a musty odor. Standing beside the once
great shipship commander, was the only person to survive the fire; the
housekeeper, Elizabeth. She had suffered only a minor burn on his arm,
trying to help Picards' own brother out of the house, but she just wasn't
strong enough. He had died, and Picard knew that she had at least tried.
He turned away, looking down the worn dirt road, hoping that
someone would come, perhaps to rescue him from this miserable depression
he had found himself wallowing in. But no one came, not a single person
had shown up at his vineyard in more than a month. I don't belong here,
he thought, I need to get out of here, before it gets to me.
It was too late, it had already gotten to him.
An hour later, the rain had all but stopped and the sun shined
high over the mountains that kept this valley secure for thousands of
years. Picard had looked up and wondered when the call would come, the
call for a new command. He and his command crew had been given "extended
shoere leave" which meant that no command was ready for them. The rest of
the crew, the ones who were well enough after the crash, had all been
reassigned to other vessels.
Unlike the last few days, Picard had not found himself picking
through the rubble for anything that may possibly have any value to him,
anything sentimental. Today he walked the length of his yard, looking at
the vines, hoping that he would be able to rebuild someday on what had
fallen. He noticed the sun had dissappeared, looking up, hoping that no
more rain was coming, he saw a shuttle glide down from the heavens, land
near what had been the front yard, and a young officer emerge.
It's about time, he thought.
The young cadet, it seemed, walked hurried over to Picard, who had
started his way back to the house. A house that no long lived.
From the distance, he could hear the man say, "Captain Jean-Luc
Picard? Priority One Message form 'Fleet Command." Now that was something
he hadn't expected. Priority One, he thought, what in god's name would
they do that for.
When they were finally face to face, "Sir, Admiral Necheyev wishes
you to return to the City immediately. There seems to be a problem,
Captain. ".
Picard took the cue, "Delta Problem?".
"Aye, sir,"the boy said, "It is definitely a ... Delta Problem."
He could see Picard turn pale, so pale he looked like the android. I
should have asked what a 'Delta Problem' is when I was back at
headquarters, the young officer said.
"Very good, Ensign. Let me get my things, and we can leave."
CHAPTER ONE
"Two hundred?" Sisko exclaimed, he wanted to strangle the little
bastard, "Where exactly do you think you're going to put two hundred
cases of that Klingon goo?"
Quark thought he had made one of the best deals of the year, he
thought wrong, "I...uh...I was hoping to store them down where the mining
equipment used to be, Commander."
" Hmph, I can tell him where to put that crap," the Constable
said from his place on the uppermost level of Ops, Deep Space Nine. He
was in a good mood this morning, and it seemed everyone know knew.
"What if it spoils?" Sisko asked.
"Qau'Kla doesn't spoil, in fact it never goes bad." Quark said,
"So how about it commander?"
"Fine, fine..." Sisko said, heading back to his office, the doors
swooshed open,"If I smell one bad thing down there, that Qau'Kla is
getting beamed out."
"Oh, thank you, Commander." Quark said, thankful that he didn't
have to offer any latinum for the storage of the food.
The doors closed behind Sisko, he walked around the edge of his
desk and flopped down into his chair. A little peace and quiet, he
thought, will do me a little good.
The chime of the office door woke Ben Sisko from the light sleep
he was moving into, Kira stood in the door, hands behind her back, "What
is it, Major?"
She hestitated at first, then took a step forward, "Commander,
there is a Priority Two message on a secure subspace channel from
StarBase 312." He knew why she hestitated, she hated those damned secret
messages StarFleet liked to send.
"Pipe in here," Sisko said. Kira turned on her heels and
signaled to someone in Ops to make the proper contection. The door
closed. On the viewscreen beside Sisko's desk, on the wall, appeared the
symbol of the Federation on a blue background. The screen resolved into
the image of an Andorian Admiral. Damn, Sisko thought, I can never
remember his name. "Admiral, what can I do for you?"
The blue creature frowned, or at least tried to, "That's Admiral
T'Welz to you, Commander Sisko," he said through the slit that they
called a mouth.
"Yes, Sir." He was steaming, never liked him anyway.
"Commander, I wanted to inform you that StarFleet intellegence
indicates that the Borg have made an offensive move against the Romulan
Star Empire." the antennae on his head moving in every which way. "We
also feel that they have made a move against the Dominion in the Gamma
Quadrant."
"Understood, Admiral." SIsko said. My god, he thought, the Borg
making two moves at once. This isn't good.
"You are ordered to beef up security on the station and begin
battle drills with your starship...completely precautionary, Commander,"
the Andorian said, his dull blue skin looked marked with the scares of
some Andorian disease.
"Understood, sir"
"Admiral T'Welz, StarBase 312, Out." and the screen reverted
back to the Federation symbol and blue background.
Damn, he thought, damn.
CHAPTER TWO
"So... there she is, " the 'Fleet Commander said. Beside him stood
the night manager of the 'Fleet Museum, mostly there for security
reasons, not for managing anything. They stood inside the well lit
command center, a room with four inche thick transparent aluminum as a
window looking out in the elder space station. Out there, beyond the
glass, were the ships that had formed the Federation, mostly outdated
rust-buckets, some stood ready for reassignment. One stood ready to fight
the Borg, though her engineers had constructed her more than a hundred
years before, for very different reasons.
"I don't think I can make that kind of decision," the freckled
twnety-something said, his uniform the standard, though he would never
actually be part of StarFleet.
"Oh, sure you can... besides, I'm not asking for permission, I'm
giving an order." the Fleet Admiral said. He liked giving orders, he
liked doing this kind of thing every now and again. It just gets to
stuffy in the same office day in and day out, he thought.
"Yes, sir," the night manager said, "But I don't think Bob's going
to like this...". He reached down and flung the lights that shined on the
old girl on, the metal plating of the ship glowed with age, a proud and
respected ship, she was. She was also the last of her kind, the last of
thirteen original ships. Now she was being readied for one final voyage,
one that would be both a beginnings, of sorts, and a reunion, of sorts.
"Don't worry, we'll take good care of her." The Admiral said,
patting the young man on the back, "We're going to upgrade weapons and
shields and that will be all... she'll look the same," trying to comfort
the boy/man.
"What about...uhh...what about a warp core? She doesn't have one,
you know," the manager of the "Fleet Museum said.
"We'll take care of that too..."
*** *** *** ***
"Captain Picard," the Romulan said, thinking of what he knew of
the man,"Yes, we've met many times, all of them quite friendly, of
course.". His outstretched brow, hiding his eyes for his commanders view.
Sitting behind her desk, Sela said, " Good, Commander Tomolak,
because it is you who will be in command of the 'Welcoming Committee'
when Picard and StarFleet arrive.". She sat back, remembering what had
transpired last time Picard and his damned android had been in Romulan
territory. And that damned logical Spock, she thought, he's still here.
Well, when we defeat the Borg and cripple the StarFleet when they leave,
I'll take care of him...personally.
CHAPTER THREE
The Bridge loomed large before the incoming shuttle, Picard and
Ensign Rome had spent the entire trip from France in complete silence.
Picard worried about what the 'Delta Problem' could possibly mean to him,
he knew of no ship that was ready for a new command. Picard didn't like
the idea of taking someone elses command, he felt that they were just as
worthy as he to command a starship. Though, he thought, I wouldn't mind
taking the Cairo away from Jellico for a while, just so he knows what's like.
The shuttle sat down on the pad that had been waiting for him. Two
other officers ushered him from the shuttle into Main, the building that
housed all of StarFleet command, the offices, the personnel. Up two
levels and into the official office of the one admiral he didn't want to see,
"Admiral Necheyev, I was wondering when you'd need me again."
"We don't have time for the pleasantries, Captain," She said, he
truly disliked her, and the feeling was seemingly mutual. She leaned
forward, hands clasped on the glass desk. The door closed behind Picard;
he took a seat directly in front of her. "Captain, we both know why we
asked you back..."
"Actually, all I've found out is that we have a 'Delta Problem'".
"Yes, we do..."she said, her hair seemed different to Picard, then
it seemed a different color everytime he saw her. "The Borg are making a
move on the Beta quadrant, on the Romulans."
"And they want us to help fend them off"
"No... they don't want us to, but they need us to," she said,
knowing full well that Picard meant that,"The Romulan's originally went to
the Klingons for help, but were turned down by that damned Gowron. Fool,"
she said.
"Then they came to us,"
"Not exactly...we recieved a subspace transmission from Ambassador
Spock, on Romulus, telling of the problems with the Borg. It appears,
Captain, that they want what the Romulans have" the Admiral said.
"What's that?"
"People, and many of them... it's seems that when their little
stint with Lore ended, so did his type of terror."
"Admiral, what's this got to do with me?"
"Captain Picard, you are going to lead a 'Task Force' of sixteen
starships, your ship not included, into Romulan space to help defeat the
Borg."
"I see," he said, remembering, all to vividly, what happened last
time they had a run-in with the Borg, then everytime before that...
"You have three days to find Will Riker and the rest of your
command crew... I want you all back here for a briefing on the complete
affair." she said, standing and moving toward the door.
"I understand." he said, leaving the Office of Death, as he
thought of it. Damn, he said, I wanted command back, but not to fight the
Borg.
**** **** **** ****
Over the world, a world with no particular sun, orbited a ship of
unknown origin. A ship with powers that would have seemed un-imaginable to
anyone beyond the spacefarers of this century. A ship with a crew from
worlds scattered about the Delta Quadrant, a ship that was built for a
single purpose - to assimilate all intelligent being. A simple task that
was made difficult by the stubborn nature of all living things, by the
free will of those beings. No one wants to be controlled, no one wants to
be changed. No one wants the Borg to come to their world, usually leaving
it in rubble.
That is, no one but those who lived here, on this world. A world of
creatures they had never seen before, a creature that was impossible to
assimilate, a creature that resembled a glowing puddle of water.
It was here, on this world, that the unbelievable thing happened to
the Borg, they made a deal. A deal of no assimilation, a deal that they
could 'live' with. But it was this compromise that started the Borg to
begin to access the only remaining subroutine in their memory circuits
that came from the android named Lore.
The subroutine was named : Deceit.
CHAPTER FOUR
Captains Log, Stardate 49001.3 :
It took me two days to discover the whereabouts of Will, but
I eventually tracked him down...New Orleans, what a city it
has become... He just happened to know exactly where to
contact the rest of the command crew of the now deceased
Starship Enterprise.
"So, Captain, you mind telling me what this is all about?" Riker
said, sauntering over to stand at the bar next to his captain, and friend.
"Will, it's classified information...not here, not now."Picard
answered, "You'll just have to wait till we return to Command for the
formal briefing by Admiral Necheyev."
"Riker didn't like that, classified info. usually meant the
Romulans, and Necheyev usually meant the Borg. But Picard was looking
around, keeping a shifty eye on everyone, including the members of the
jazz band playing in the corner.
"So what are waiting for? I told Data to round up the rest and meet
us at Command at 1800 hours." Will Riker, Commander of the USS Enterprise
NCC 1701-D said.
"Will, it takes only a moment to get to San Fransisco, and that's
five hours from now...Why not just sitback and relax, it'll be the last
time we'll get to do that, for a while." Picard said with a smile,
rubbing the top of his bald, reflecting head.
Riker didn't like the sound of the last line Picard fed him. What
could he mean "for the last time for a while", he thought, it must be one
hell of a mission StarFleet had cooked up for them.
*** *** ***
"Captain: Admiral Necheyev just passed by and told me to tell you
that the briefing is being held in Conference Room two on Level five."
Data announced as he stood up, leaving the the couch he had been sitting
on lonely.
"Fine, Mr. Data."
"She also wishes me to inform you that the briefing will begin as
soon as the last person arrives." Data stated matter-of-factly.
"See, Will, I told you we weren't going to be late for anything."
Picard said looking up the foot and a half up to his first officer.
"Actually, Captain, You are the last two scheduled that have yet to
arrive." Data piped in as the three began heading for the 'lift.
Once they got to the fifth floor of the building that held the
brain of StarFleet, they had nothing to do but pass three separate
security checkpoints, before entering the room. Seated around the black
marble table were the heads of StarFleet, his command crew, and the
Romulan Ambassador to the Federation.
"Nice of you to show up," a voice called out from halfway up the
table, a familiar voice that sent shudders down the spine of the chrome-
domed captain.
"Admiral Necheyev, it's a pleasure to see you again," Picard said,
knowing that the last time they spoke was directly after the destruction
of the Enterprise, something she was not the least bit happy about.
"Captain, we would like to get started as soon as possible...So if
you and your men would take your seats, we could get started."She said,
trying to assert her power over the older man.
Picard, Riker, and Data moved around the table to take their
seats, directly across from the Admiral, obviously she wanted to get so
close to the captain that she smell his fear when word of the mission was
told.
Turning to his right, he could see that someone, an admiral he
didn't recognize, had taken to the podium at the oppisite end of the
table. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this meeting is being held to discuss a
situation that is becoming all but too obvious to us at StarFleet
Headquarters." The Admiral began. He seemed to babble, Picard drifted
back to his encounter with Dr. Soran and Captain Kirk on Virdian III.
When he came back to present, the admiral was finally getting to
the jest of the meeting, "That's where you come in, Captain Picard."
Oh no, he thought, I've been caught off guard. What's he talking
about, damn. "Excuse me, Sir." was all he could come out with.
"Captain, perhaps I didn't make it clear" the Vulcan Admiral
said, "At the joint request of the Romulan Ambassador and Ambassador
Spock, we at StarFleet command have decided to send a full task force
into Romulan space so help defend against the Borg.". So that's what
it was all about. Romulans versus the Borg, how couldn't I see that
coming, Picard thought. Sitting next to him was Will Riker, who actually
had seen that coming.
"I realize that, Admiral, but what exactly does this have to do
with me and my command crew." Picard said. Jean-Luc was beginning to
feel a little overwhelmed when he finally got the fact that he was going
to be the leader of that task force. "From what I've gotten from
StarFleet Command, the next ship out of Utopia Planitia has already been
assigned a crew."
"True, Captain. That's why we've decided to split you're command
crew into two separate groups. You will lead one ship into Romulan
space, while Commander Riker is given command of The Enforcer." the
Vulcan said.
The Enforcer was the next ship to come out of Utopia Planitia,
although not completed construction, she was combat ready. As for
Picard," Begging the Admirals pardon, What ship am I going to command?"
"As of this time, that information is classified and will be
handed out when StarFleet deems it ready." Admiral Necheyev said from
her seat across from Picard. He could see the dislike she had for him
in her eyes.
"That will be all... Thank You." the Vulcan Admiral said from the
podium, before turning to his right and exiting before any further
questions could be asked.
"That was surely eye opening..." Riker said cynically into Picards
ear.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I don't understand, Will" Picard said "They'll tell you what ship
their giving you, but me...why not at least tell me what ship?". He was
agitated, by the secrecy of the whole operation, as if they weren't
telling either of them anything.
"That seems to be the way they're going about everything these days,
sir" Riker said, that is, Captain Riker said. Before leaving the
conference room, Admiral Necheyev had 'field promoted' him to captain,
the better for keeping a crew in shape on such missions as these. A
captain, not a commander.
"On the contrary, sir" Data said, standing behind and between both
of them, biting on his finger nails. Geordi had yet to come up with a
way to get that damned emotion chip out of Data's fused circuitry, "They
have been quite open in the past with command decisions.".
"Data..." Picard said, he was agitated by the whole situation. He
remembered, all to well infact, their last meeting with the Borg.
"Sir," Will said, looking down at his former captain, but still
commanding officer," Perhaps we should begin to go over the crew
rosters, before I leave for Mars." His orders were already clear, a
packet had been handed to him on his way out with his additional command
pip, and the instructions on what to do once he got to the Utopia
Planitia yards in orbit around Mars.
"Will, what's the use going over crew rosters when your orders
have already told you Data and Geordi have been assigned to the
Enforcer. " Picard said, almost whining. He felt bad, he looked bad, he
just wanted to be alone. What Jean-Luc Picard needed was a good, health
mind-meld with a stern Vulcan, something to coo his emotions, and the
depression that overwhelmed him since the lost of his ship.
"I'm sure they'll have valuable, and well trained personell waiting
for you, when you get to your ship... whatever ship that may be." Will
said.
They did eventually go over the rosters before splitting up. Orders
were orders, Will thought. He had seen the orders, and knew what his
captain would be doing on this mission, not much, he told himself. A few
hours later, he and Data had arrived at Utopia Planitia, just in time to
watch them install the warp core from the command location in the
enormous station.
*** *** ***
"Well, doctor," Garak said, leaning over the table of virtually
untouched food, "What have you heard?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Garak." Doctor Bashir
said from across the table. He noticed that Garak was prying into the
business of StarFleet a little more than usual. But, what did that
matter, everyone knew he was a spy. Wasn't he?
"Oh, come now, Doctor... We both know that StarFleet is sending
ships both here and into the Romulan Neutral Zone, I just wanted to know
why." plain and simple Garak said, "You know...curious and all."
"Garak, I do know why. I just can't say."Bashir said, looking
across the table at the Cardassian he ate lunch with at least one a week.
Garak made as if he was going to leave, but stopped when he heard Bashir
take a deep breathe, something the good doctor did right before he gave
up information. And he did it every time, "Well, Garak, you know it's not
really secret information...But it seems the Borg have attacked the
Romulans and the Dominion, and they aren't giving an inch to either."
So, Garak thought, it is true. The ROmulan went to the Federation
for assistance. They must be getting weak. "Why did the Romulans come to
the Federation, and not try the Klingons? They are closer you know..."
"Garak, the Romulans did go to the Klingons...and they turned them
down" Bashir said, wondering why they would do such a thing.
"You know, Doctor, you know why they turned them down?" Garak
asked, looking down at his glass, then up to see Bashir shake his head,
no. "I'll tell you why. The Klingons are most likely hoping that the
Federation does help the Romulans, then when the Federation leaves, when
the Borg are killed...then the Klingons will swoop down and conquer the
weakened Romulan empire..."
CHAPTER SIX
"Stand by on aft thrusters,"Riker said. His ship was complete,
crew and all. He just felt, he felt lonely not having Jean-Luc there. But
life would go on, besides he would see him soon enough.
"Aye, sir. Thrusters on stand-by" said Ensign Perez, he seemed a
little jumpy, but who wouldn't. THey were taking a ship straight from the
yard into battle, and just any battle, but battle with the Borg.
Something they all feared, and rightly so.
"Commander Data, inform Flight Control we are ready for
departure." Riker commanded. He enjoyed taking ships from Space Dock,
there was just something magical in it, no matter how many times they did
it. But this was different, there were different rules for taking ships
of these yards.
"Flight Control says, Enforcer is granted departure." Data said
from the helm console. Once they were to get into Romulan space, he would
transfer weapons control to his console, as well as taking care of the
helm controls.
"Very well, Mr. Data. Ensign, full power to the aft thrusters" and
the great ship jolted, then steadied, working her way out in reverse.
"Sir, we are clear of Utopia Planitia."
"Okay, Ensign, set course for the Romulan Neutral Zone. We are to
wait at Golondon 'Cor, for the rest of the task Force...minus Captain
Picard. His ship will be joining us later." Riker said, spilling the
beans early, who could blaim him? No game of twenty questions to play
later, "Full impulse." he said
"Once we are out of the system, take us warp, Mr. Data." Riker
said as he stood to leave. "You have the con, I'll be in my quarters.".
Someplace he feared that wouldn't be his for long. His ship shuddered
slightly, almost like a slow humming vibration, beneath his feet.
SOmething that wasn't felt on the decks of the Galaxy class starship he
served on for eight years.
But now he had a command, the newest ship in the fleet, the most
power ship going in the task force, his ship, his crew: things to be
reckoned with. Watch out Borg, he thought in the 'lift on his way down to
his quarters, here comes Will and the Enforcer. WHat a name, he thought, it
almost made him shake in his own boots, the ship better live up to it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"Task Force Alpha has begun to take shape in orbit above Golondin
'Cor, Admiral." the officer said, troubled by the fact that most of those
on the ships in the task force weren't going to be coming home.
"Inform the Fleet Museum that that warp core is ready to be lifted
in," Admiral Necheyev said back to the young Bolian officer. She had full
control of every aspect of the mission, and her own fate, the reason she
decided to stay behind and let Jean-Luc take it. He really doesn't like
me, she thought, Good, all the better.
And she meant it.
"Aye, Admiral. Transmitting message, now.".
*** *** ***
Ben Sisko slid down the back of the couch, he was exhausted by
the drills and inspections he had given, by StarFleet order of course.
These are dangerous times, he thought, and everyone in danger, here, is
my responciblity. Damn.
The chiming of the door brought Sisko back to reality, from the
dreamy state he had been sliding into. Damn, he thought. "Yes," he said,
"Come."
The door slid open, in the light of the hall was silloquetted a
tall, bulky figure that the commander didn't recognize. He couldn't see a
face. "Commander Sisko?"
"Yes, what can I do for you?" was all he could say. There was no
worry of possible attack, he had Odo issue a secret officer to each
person on the station that seemed even remotely sispicious. He sat up a
little straighter, but made no move toward the individual.
"Commander...I have some information you may need..." the
individual said in a raspy tone. He was obviously using something to
disguise his voice, and doing a damned good job at it too.
"And what might that be?" Ben asked. This is getting interesting,
he thought. And here I am half a sleep, and barely paying attention.
"It has become known to those on 'the other side' that the Borg
and Jem'Hadar are pulling their forces together to come and conquer the
Alpha Quadrant." the large person said, being sure to keep the lights to
his back and in the commanders eyes.
"That hardly sounds like the Borg, to me."
"All I can say, is that it is...true. The Founders came to an
agreement to let the Alpha Quadrant be completely assimilated by the
Borg, if they would agree to leave the worlds of the Dominion alone." the
figure said. "I'm sorry, Commander, but it seems you're the first line of
defense for the Federation, for when they do come."
"Who are you?" Sisko asked, knowing he wasn't going to get an
answer. I need to rattle the guy a little, he thought, but just keep him
here. At least until someone passes in the corridor, he thought.
"I'm sorry." and the figure dissappeared, he just dissappeared as
if beamed off the station, but without the effect. Gone.
Damn.
*** *** *** *** ***
"No, sir, no one beamed off the station at that time. No, none."
O'Brien told him. Sisko had dragged himself up to Ops., he needed to find
out who the mysterious person was, and most importantly if what the man
said was true.
"Okay...well, look, I know what I saw," Ben Sisko said, worried
and irritated. Damn, he thought, why couldn't he wait 'til morning.
"I find it hard to believe that someone appeared in your doorway,
then just dissappeared." the Constable said. Odo was not happy with all
of the StarFleet personnel that had been arriving on the station. There
seemed to be twice as many in those uniforms, than there ever was in
Cardassian chest plates.
"Dax, contact StarFleet HeadQuarters" Sisko ordered, "I want to
talk to someone. When you get them, pipe it through to my office."
"Understood, Commander."
CHAPTER EIGHT
The ship slowly moved forward, the first time her impulse engines
had tasted the hydrogen gas for fusion in almost seventy years. A new
warp core, upgraded weapons and shields, newer, better sensors, that's
all she needed to be brought into the twenty-fourth century. Just because
somethings old, that doesn't mean you throw it away.
Sitting at the helm console was a young cadet straight out of the
academy, obviously a history major. Seated at the communications console,
directly behind the center seat, was a large, burly Klingon officer. He
would be most likely the first, and the last, Klingon to ever serve as an
officer on board a Constitution Class vessel. When this ship was built,
his people were at war with the Federation, something he was not quick to
forget.
Seated in the center seat was Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
"Mr. Worf, contact Utopia Planitia, give them our ETA and explain
that they don't have much time to install the Warp Drive." Picard said,
spinning the large, bulky, underpadded chair, around a full hundred and
eighty degrees. Why couldn't they make them like this, he thought, it
would be so much easier than standing to talk to someone behind me. But
then, Picard realized, I don't have a ship anymore.
"Aye, sir" Worf said from the undersized chair that was constructed
for obviously smaller people, in a different era. "They could have
upgraded these systems, if they wanted to make this mission easy." he
mumbled.
The consoles, except for the helm, had been untampered, the same
switch boards, the same overhead monitors, the same damned blinking
lights, gave the bridge of the USS Exeter the same feel it always had.
"Mr. Worf, this vessel is an antique...be proud to just be aboard,"Picard
said turning back to the smaller than expected Main View Screen.
Worf nodded, then set to making the call to Mars.
"Sir, we are clear of the Museum, course heading, sir?" the young,
red-headed officer said, from the helm. His eyes were lit, as if he had
made a great discovery, a feeling that Picard had felt years earlier.
"Ensign Topper, best speed to Utopia Planitia." Picard said, as he
stood to leave the confines of the drastically small bridge. Damn, he
thought, no ready room. "Oh, Mr. Worf, make sure that our Chief Engineer
is ready, and on time, when we get to the Yard." he said turning his
attention back to his security/communications/weapons chief. A nod from
Worf, and Picard entered the sole turbolift that led to and from the
bridge.
He grasped the thick handle, "Level Four" he said to no one. This
mission was difinitely becoming interesting. He was the greatest starship
captain of the twenty-fourth century, on his way to lead a task force
against the Borg, in Romulan space, in a hundred year old starship. I
don't belong in the seat, he thought, Kirk does. This was his kind of
ship, not mine. Why, he thought to himself.
The doors swooched open to the fourth level of the saucer, an
angular hallway stretched out before him. At least I'll have a little of
an advantage, he thought, but one like Jim Kirk would. I'll have to
manage, if I want to survive, if we're all going to survive.
CHAPTER NINE
"Commander Sisko, there is nothing we can say on the situation. It
does appear that the Borg are making a move in the Gamma Quadrant, but
that be no means...means that the Borg are coming through." the Andorian
Admiral said, leaning forward close to the view screen. He was agitated,
irritated that Sisko had found out something he wasn't supposed to know.
Now all he could do for the time, is deny that anything was taking place.
"Then, why, Admiral,"Sisko began, " is StarFleet sending six
starships to this sector?". Sisko was eager to hear the explanation for
this one. He found it hard to believe what he was being told by his
superior officer, compared to what a vanishing person had said only an
hour earlier in his doorway.
"Three of the ships are for protection against the Marquis, they
are : the Avenger, the Revere, and the Voyager. "the Admiral said. His
command pips/pin sparkling in the lights that lit his office. They also
happened to light up the droplets of sweat that were forming on his blue
brow.
"And what of the other three...if I may ask, sir" Ben Sisko asked,
hestitating a bit, not wanting to make the admiral made. I don't even
remember, he thought, his name. Damn.
"Commander, you tread a very thin line," the Andorian said, his
slit like mouth turning slightly downward. "The other three are coming to
survey the area around the wormhole better than before..." then the
transmission started to break-up, just a little static at first, but then
it worsened to the point that Sisko could no longer make out the face or
the voice. Damn, he thought.
Slapping his communicator, "Dax, what's happening...the
transmission from StarBase 312 has broken up." he shouted, the static
still loud in the background.
Over the comm channel, he heard Dax, "Ben, it's being jammed at
StarBase 312. There's nothing we can do."
Sisko thought about that one, what was going on, who does the
Admiral think he's fooling, Sisko thought, he already told me that the
Borg were coming, just not when. He's hiding something, he's hiding
something big, he thought. "Dax, send Priority One Message to StarFleet
Command HeadQuarters... on Earth.".
"Ready when you are, Ben" she said. But Ben had to think, what
exactly was he going to say, that the admiral at StarBase 312...what was
his name? T'Well? T'Welz? that's it... that Admiral T'Welz at StarBase
312 was keeping vital information from him? that the Admiral was faking a
jammed transmission, so not to give out that information? He thouht, I'll
them the truth, I'll tell them about the mysterious man, and the Admiral,
and the ships that are being sent out here, and the fact that I believe
the man about the Borg and the Jem'Hadar. Damn, he thought, this is
turning out to be one hell of a week.
*** *** *** ***
"Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge" Worf called over the
PA. He had had trouble with his communicator, something about the new
design, they never seemed to work right when they brung out new ones. And
that went with these as well. He was forced with doing it the way they
did it when this ship was originally in service.
Picard was already on his way to the bridge when Worf's booming
voice filled the corridor. He walked out to the little comm station on
the wall as he waited for a 'lift to stop at this deck. He realized
things were going to be slower, the ship was slower, but there were good
enough reasons for it. He punched the little white knob in with the side
of his hand and spke into the speaker, "Ackowledged, Mr. Worf. I'm on my
way."
Once Picard got to the bridge and settled down into the center seat,
he began giving orders on approach to Utopia Planitia, the largest ship
building station in the Federation, also known as "the Yard". It took
five minutes for them to get it right, but eventually the ship docked and
was ready for the transfer of the new, twenty-fourth century warp drive,
into the century old ship. After the ship had been steadied, and the
gravitational moorings had locked, it was up to the "Yard Crew" to finish
the job. Only one problem remained, the Chief Engineer hadn't shown up
yet. And he was the only one who knew exactly how to calibrate and set
the engines to working order, something that would need to be done before
they went anywhere.
Two hours passed and still there was no word on where the ChEng was
at, another two hours and the warp core would be completely installed.
The Chief had two hours to show, then he was going to have to face the
wrath of Admiral Necheyev, alongside Picard. Time moved so slow on ships
that aren't going anywhere, Picard thought, especially when the ship is
waiting for a single individual.
Who finally showed up, forty minutes before the scheduled departure
time. It had better be enough time, he better have a damned good excuse
for being so late, Picard thought, leaving the bridge for the transprter
room.
*** *** ***
"Commander Sisko," Admiral S'Tral, a Vulcan,said," The mysterious
individual that you speak of was one of the Founders who we have been
taking since he defected from the Gamma Quadrant three weeks ago." His
stern, loud voice showed no sign of emotion, and he seemed to be at ease
giving out information that Admiral T'Welz of StarBase 312 had been
reluctant to tell.
"One of the Founders. A Changling, you mean?" Sisko was stunned, he
had felt like a little chill start at the bottom of his spine and work
its' cold sweaty way up his back. He didn't know what caused it, the
Admirals voice, or the facts he had just heard.
"That is what I said, Commander."
"So it's true?" Sisko asked, then paused and studdered to ask a
follow-up, " The Borg and the Jem'Hadar?"
"That seems to be the case. Intelligence indicates that the
Jem'Hadar are adding 'Phasing/ Cloaking Devices" to their ships as well.
StarFleet knows of only one culture that has successfully been able to
construct such devices: the Romulans" the Vulcan said, looking to
something off screen, then back again, " Which means that the Borg have
successfully assimilated someone from inside the Romulan science
devision. The conclusion that the information passed from the Romulans to
the BOrg to the Jem'Hadar is the only logical explanation." He was quite
a stirring individual, Sisko thought, he's so calm and collective it's
almost scarry.
Sisko was silent for a moment, then decided to go ahead with the
origianl question, "And those are the reasons for the ships?"
"That is also correct, Commander." The Vulcan must have
accomplished Kol'Hinnar, to be able to be... detached, Sisko thought.
Bringing him back to reality, "Of course, StarFleet had given the order
for the Voyager to assist you in the continuing problems of the Marquis a
few months ago. It just so happened that she will be arriving with the
other ships."
"I see."
"Commander Sisko, I've been instructed to give you the following
orders." he paused to read directly from something offscreen, or most
likely directly from memory, " To Commander, Deep Space Nine : StarFleet
has come to the decision to evacuate all non-essential personal from the
station. The Avenger, the Revere, the Voyager, the Houston, the Bounty,
and the Quebec: will be given top priority at Deep Space Nine. You are to
be their homebase. Orders will arrive with Captain Janeway, of the USS
Voyager. Captain Janeway is in command of this mission, now named Task
Force Beta. Thank you, StarFleet Command, General Defense Council, San
Fransisco, Earth." He looked up and into the screen.
"Understood, Admiral." Sisko's head was swirling, he needed
sleep. At least the 'Task Force' as they were calling it wouldn't arrive
for two more days.
"Admiral S'Tral, StarFleet Command. Out." The screen went blue
with the background of the Federation.
CHAPTER TEN
The transporter effect was finally leaving, the Chief Engineer had
arrived. There was a time when he thought that the transprters on these
ships were the fastest in the galaxy, now they were the slowest.
Standing in front of the console was Captain Picard, standing
straight and tall, at least as tall as he could. Behind him, a young
Vulcan woman worked the console. Once the dazzling effects of the
transporter left, Picard stepped forward, reaching a hand out to his new
arrival," Captain Scott, how nice it is to see you again," was his
standard opening line when someone beamed aboard his ship.
Captain Montegomery Scott stood for a moment looking around the
comforting confines of the main transporter room; a room he hadn't seen
look this nice in almost a century (if you count the time in the
transporter of the Janolin.). His gaze finally settled on Jean-Luc
Picard, standing in front of him, "Captain, permission to come aboard?"
he asked, almost just for nastalagas sake alone.
"Permission granted." Picard answered. He smiled broadly at the
hefty Scot who seemed to shine with joy. But they had to get down to
business, this was a war they were going to fight. Wasn't it? As the
former Captain of the Engineering aboard the original Enterprise came
down off the padd, Picard said, " Sir, we really do have a lot of work to
do. First, you need to get into uniform. Second, the warp engines need
calibrated and started up."
Scottie looked down at his feet, losing that sense of
happiness," Aye, sir. Tha's what took me so long. Ah couldna find me
uniform." But then he held up the bag he had brung on, "I found it though."
"Good, Captain. Then let's get to work. We have fourty minutes to
get out of here," Picard said, meaning that the ruining of the schedule
would cause a hassle for the rest of the Task Force, and for them when
Admiral Necheyev finds out.
Mr. Scott looked him in the eye and told what he knew to be a bold
faced lie, "Sir, it'll take a' least a' hour ta get to engines warmed
up." He knew that he could do it in less than thirty minutes, but he told
Picard that, then how could he make a reputation in the twenty-fourth
century as being a 'Miracle Worker'.
Two minutes later Scottie was in engineering beginning to get the
new engines on line. This is what he missed, this time it was real. He
thanked the gods that StarFleet had come to him, a retired old man, for
this particular job. Hello ma babies, he thought when he looked at the back
of the ship at the different, yet similiar parts to ones he had warmed up
on a hundred years before.
*** *** ***
"Two days out of Deep Space Nine, sir,"the first officer of the
USS Voyager said. His name was Chakotay, a native of a world other than
the one his ancestors came from. Chakotay was the first of the native
americans from off world colonies to finally join StarFleet. A tall, dark
skins man who seemed to take control, when his captain failed to give
commands. The single thing that drew most of the crew to ask him
questions about his long lived culture, was the pin striped tattoo that
took up much of the left side of his forehead.
"Very good, Commander," the captain of the satrship Voyager said
from her commander chair, still the center seat. Captain Kathrine Janeway
was finally in command of a descent starship, though she would never
complain about anyother command she ever had. "Alert the other ships that
we will be doing another warp core breach drill in about an hour. Perhaps
they should do their own?" she said, more question than statement, though
she had complete authority over the six ships, seven ships very soon.
"Tuvok, I want security posted on the bridge and outside the
observation lounge at all times, starting now." Janeway said. She knew
the complete story of what was going down in the Gamma Quadrant,
evidently the Federation had someone on the inside with the Dominion. She
also knew the mission they had been assigned, the new mission that is.
She thought the Marquis would be put on hold, at least until this Borg
and Jem'Hadar situation cleared up.
"Captain, this is a StarFleet vessel. I find it illogical to post
guards on a ship that all have sworn to protect." the dark skinned vulcan
said. His dark, thin sharp moving around so to see the woman he was
speaking to.
"I realize that everyone has taken an oath to serve the
Federation, Tuvok, but not everyone on this ship is quite so honest and
logical as you are." she said, looking up at the greenblooded, pointy
eared alien.
"Understood, sir." he said.
Time passes so slow when you have secrets to tell, Kathy Janeway
thought to herself, I need to get the Captains of the other ships
together with that commander of DS9 to go over strategies. Sisko, that's
it, Commander Sisko...his wife died at the Wolf 359 at the hands of the
Borg.
"I'll be in my quarters," She said, standing and heading for the
'lift,"Alert me when the drill is about to begin. You have the conn, Mr.
Chakotay." And she left.
*** *** *** *** ***
The large metallic crates had been beamed into the storage area,
an area that had once been known to station dwellers as "The Pit". Two
hundred of the large objects were neatly stacked leaving a path, a
walkway, straight down the center of the room. The large doors that led
to this room had been built to keep people in, hundreds of people. In one
hundred and ninety-nine of the cases were slabs of Klingon goo, known
Qua'Kla. In the two hundredth box, was an explosive device. A device that
have made it past the sensors and scans of the freighter that brought
them here, of the station, and of the transporter that beamed them here.
It was of a technology not even O'Brien could guess, but when Quark had
openned the case, he guessed that the Klingons had planted it. Thus, it
had to be Klingon.
"What should we do with it, Commander?" O'Brien asked, looking
down into the dark box at the little object, no larger than tricorder.
"Can you disarm it?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Then don't bother, just get it off my station...get it as far
away from here as possible." Sisko said looking down into the crate, he
angered at Quark for bringing the stuff on board, he was angry at himself
for agreeing to let Quark bring on, and he was angry at StarFleet for not
telling him everything.
"I'll see what I can do, Sir." O'Brien said.
Standing back, away from them was Quark, "Now wait a minute, I
paid for two hundred cases, not a hundred and ninety-nine. I want that."
"Quark, If you say one more word, you're going where ever Chief
O'Brien takes that thing...and you're staying with it. Get it?" Sisko
exclaimed. He was not in a good mood.
"Ah...ah...uh...Okay, commander." and with that Quark left
running out of the door, and back to his bar, his prize possession.
Sisko didn't have a clue what O'Brien was going to do with the
thing, so he asked and was replied with, "I'll take a runabout through
the wormhole, and leave it on the otherside.". O'Brien thought himself a
genuis for the answer.
"Just be careful, Chief."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The bridge filled with the acrid smell of burning flesh and control
boards. No one was left at their stations when the sudden jerk of a
exploding photon torpedo nailed the ship. The smell made some of the
bridge crew feel sick, and others were blinded by the black smoke that
was finally being vented. The ship had taken the worst beating in its
long career in the 'Fleet. Picard was hunched over the command chair,
Worf was lying unconscious near the turbolift doors, the helmsman and
navigator were both already dead. The alarms had sounded and the hull
snapped in two, floating, drifting endlessly through the rubble of a
dozen other ships. All hands were lost.
"Captain Picard to the bridge, Captain Picard to the bridge," the
voice of Worf came booming over th e loudspeaker in his cabin. Jean-Luc
Picard sat straight up, half afraid of what he had been dreaming about,
and half afraid of what Worf wanted.
Two minutes later, Picard walked onto the bridge, a bridge he still
wasn't ready for, a bridge that he felt wasn't his. He stumbled over to
Worf, at the communications console, still unsure of the ship and
himself. He was scared of what he had been thinking of back home, or what
he used to call home, and what he had become, a tired, old man.
"Yes, Mr. Worf?" he asked the Klingon. It was almost comical to see
the large man sitting in a chair made for someone other than himself,
someone half his side, someone most likely gentler than he.
The Klingon looked up, Picard could almost see the humilation of
what he was doing and where he was stationed in his face, and replied,
"Captain Scott informs us that the engines are ready when you are."
Wow, Picard thought, he said it would take an hour. And how long
did it take, a half hour, he thought, damn he is good. "Bridge to
Engineering."
"Scott here."
"Mr. Scott, I'm told the engines are almost ready."
"Aye, sir. One more test an' the' all yours."
"Let's know when you're ready, Captain Scott." Picard said,
closing the channel. He moved down around the bright red handrail and
over to the center seat. Relaxing down into the padded chair, he crossed
his legs and spoke to the helmsman,"Helm, what is our current course and
speed?"
"Sir, we are on a heading to Golondin 'Cor, speed full impulse.
We will reach our systems Oort cloud in fifteen minutes." Ensign Topper
said, facing the Main Viewscreen. He had loved to use the holosuites at
the Acedemy to fool around with starships of the early periods. But he
never thought he would actually get the chance to be aboard a ship like
this, never in a million years. His reference to the systems Oort cloud
was only that a refence, it made no difference of when they could go to warp.
"Very good, Ensign." Picard said, leaning back in the great
chair. He swiveled to look at the Bolian at the Science Library station
to his right. "And you are?..." he asked, the Bolian had been watching
Picard since he stepped foot on the bridge. Picard had felt foolish
having to ask such questions, but he hadn't had time to look over a
complete crew roster. All he knew was that this ship had four hundred or
so regular crew when they used to on duty, but for this mission the
Exeter would carry less than two hundred and fifty personnel.
" Ensign Yalla, Sir!" the bald-headed Bolian said, sitting
straight up at his station. He was obviously a green cadet, never having
served on a starship before. A green bolian, a green bluey, Picard
thought, almost chuckling aloud.
"At ease, Ensign," Picard said, hearing Worf make a little
snickering sound behind him. He swiveled to look at the Klingon, at the
moment the comm link to Engineering clicked back on.
"Engineering to the Bridge," Scott said.
Picard punched the little red button on the right hand console of
the chair,"Bridge here, go ahead."
"Warp engines are ready, sir."
"A true miracle worker, Mr. Scott" Picard said, remembering the
records he had read about Montegomery Scott and his former Captains'
nickname for the Scot.
"We're ready for warp speed when you are Captain Kirk...uh..uh..
.AH mean, Captain Picard." Scottie said, stumbling over his words, his
mistakes, his still grieving heart. He knew he had lost more than a ship,
more than a starship captain, but also a friend for the second time.
"That's quite alright Mr. Scott." Picard said, truly meaning it.
"Oh, and Captain, call me 'Scottie'. Tha' what Ah like." his
accent getting thick and hard to understand, like it always did when he
was pain.
"Okay, Scottie. Picard Out." he said, turning back to the
viewscreen, seeing only stars out there, but feeling more grief for the
greatest starship captain that died a cruel, and unjust death only a
month before. A death he could feel hurt Scottie as much as the death of
his family had hurt him, only that Scottie would have to feel it for the
second time.
"Hold course, helm. Warp Seven."
"Aye, sir. Ready for warp factor seven." the young redhead said.
Standing up and making a small pointing gesture to the screen,
something that Worf had seen countless times before.
"Engage."
*** *** *** *** *** ***
"Well, Will, what are supposed to do? Just wait here?" the Chieg
Medical Officer of the USS Enforcer said. Dr. Beverly Crusher had been
assigned to what ever ship Picard was bringing, so that meant he was
going to get stuck with whoever Command could spare. Fortunately it was
someone he knew, Dr. Kate Pulaski. The last time they had spoke was only
moments before she left the Enterprise to return to a post at the
Acemady. She never really liked serving aboard starships anyway, besides
Bev Crusher was much better at ship medicine than she was.
"Doctor, we are not waiting for Captain Picard, we are in the
middle of a serious battle drill, so will you, please, just leave the
bridge or be quiet until we're finished?" Captain Riker said from the
center seat of his bridge. My bridge, he thought, I like the sound of
that...My bridge.
"Why are the damned drilling, we know this is suicide?" she
breathed, leaving the bridge, stomping her way out,"This is the dumbest
assed thing I've ever let myself get talked into!" She knew as well as he
did, that they didn't get along. But he had no word in the matter, all
came to him from above.
Captain William T. Riker didn't have the time to run after a
doctor to make up, he had a ship to run, and a battle drill to conduct.
Damn, he thought turning his attention back to the screen. "Evassive
manuever : Riker Zeta Tau Six!" he screamed over the klaxons that began
to sound the closeness of death, a fake death, but still a shakingly real
expereince he hoped he wouldn't have to go through on this mission.
"Too late, Captain. The Warp Core breached two point three seconds
before your command. The Enforcer has been destroyed." Data said, with
little unexpected emotion from his helm console. He turned to look at the
captain of the vessel, his freind for eight years, Will Riker.
But Will had slumped down into the padds of the center seat. He was
drifting elsewhere, someplace Data couldn't go, even with his damned
emotion chip. Damn, he thought, maybe she's right, Maybe this is crazy.
Hell, he thought, maybe the Borg are right.
Maybe Resistance is Futile.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Voyager to Space Station Deep Space Nine, come in please."
"Deep Space Nine here, go ahead Voyager." Jadzia Dax said, looking
down at the half empty cup of coffee she had sitting on her console. She
didn't like being to the comm officer too much, and it was quite funny
how it showed through, a slight scowl on her beautiful face.
"Deep Space Nine, Task Force Beta requesting permission to dock,"
the feminine voice said, no face to match; only an audio transmission.
Ah, Jadzia thought, this must be our fearless leader, Captain Kate
Janeway.
"Voyager, please stand by..." She said, turning to head up the
stairs to Sisko's office. Dax had noticed the past two days that Ben
Sisko had hidden himself in his office, only leaving to go to his cabin.
She wondered why the commander hadn't been overlooking the evacuation
process as he should have been.
As Jadzia reached the steps to ascend to the closed off office, she
noticed Sisko already standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at
her. She felt quite a bit frightened by the fact that she had almost run
in to him; especially when she hadn't heard the familiar 'whooooosh' of
the doors openning or closing.
"Captain Janeway,"Sisko said loud and clear, over shadowing the
others in Ops., drowning out the voices of all the other StarFleet
officers working their posts. He continued," this is Commander Benjamin
Sisko, commanding officer of Deep Space Nine. It seems that your six
starships are a bit too much of a strain on this station."
"I see," was all they heard over the comm link. Moments pasted,
Sisko felt himself feeling foolish for not picking up earlier, but when
he go to speak he found himself cut off, "Then what do you propose we do,
Commander."
Ben Sisko felt as if he was being talked down to, something he was
used to. Nonetheless, something he hated,"Perhaps two starships should
patrol the area around the station and the wormhole...only letting them
beam people over."
"You make it sound, Commander, as if the evacuation of non-essen
tials is not yet complete." Her voice digging into his heart, paining him
even to speak. He could tell this was starting off on the wrong foot,
something that he didn't want to happen. Remember Admiral Necheyev, he
thought.
"That would be correct, Captain. We are having to 'bus' people to
Bajor and surrounding worlds. It seemed to me that StarFleet didn't want
a panic attack on their hands when they gave me the order to evacuate my
station." Sisko replied to her informal question, placing emphasis on My,
letting her know who was incharge of the station. Of course, he knew,
that she had overall control of the mission at hand.
"How long, Commander?" she asked, referring to the evac.
"Two or three more hours." was his sole sentence.
"We will dock three ships now," Janeway said," then once the
evacuation is complete, another will dock. Two will keep an orbital
pattern around the station at all time.". She was originally going to do
it that way to begin with, but said nothing of that. She didn't want to
upset the commander anyfurther than he already was.
"My crew will handle the arrangements, Captain." Sisko said,
taking a step back toward his office. He wanted to be secure in there,
and to perhaps take a second to review this 'Captain Janeways' StarFleet
file. Though he couldn't resist,"And welcome to Bajor, and Space Station
Deep Space Nine." The usual greeting they gave tourists from anywhere
outside the Alpha Quadrant.
The comm link was broken, from shipside.
**** ***** **** ****
"Commander, we are cloaked..." the sub-centurion said from
his post to the right of his commanding officer. The ship and its
two sisters had arrived only moments before the Federation starships
began their drills, awaiting their own commanding officer.
The Warbird was an easy target for any ship that had
weapons; it was twice the size of any known StarFleet vessel, and a
match for three times the length of most of the ships in the
Federation 'Task Force'. To that name, Tomalak, almost laughed. But
he could if wanted, this was space and in space there is no sound,
only light. And mass amounts of death, and darkness.
"They're only going to get in the way," another sub-centurion
said from a console on Tomalak's left. Obviously, the Commander
thought, these children have no strategic value. Perhaps that's why
they talk so much, and say so little.
"All the better, child,"Tomalak said at last, he might as
well explain it to them, "while the Federation ships get in the way,
we can destroy the Borg invasion force with less loss of our own
lives." It just didn't sound quite as ingenious in word as it did in
thought and on paper. Ah, he thought, it matters not what they think
or believe. So long as I know what I am to do.
"So they are here to help us," the first officer said from a
position behind the commander, monitoring the cloaking device. He was an
awkward looking Romulan, thin yet extremely tall. Freak, Tomalak thought.
"You fool, did you not listen in on the orders," Tomalak asked,
as he stood and turned to face the Senior Centurion. A slight twitch
formed around the corners of his mouth, he knew what the answer would be,
he knew what he must do.
"Yes, Commander. We...You are here to escort them to the front
line, to fight the Borg. They are better at it than we, they have more
experience. They are not worth the same number of Romulan lives." He
answered, standing up straight as he could at his post.
"So...you have read the orders?"
"As I said, Yes, Commander Tomalak."
"Traitor!" Tomalak bellowed, reaching down and taking his
disruptor from its holster on his belt. Within a single second, he aimed
and pulled the trigger, the officer disappeared in a brilliant flash of
light. No longer did Tomalak's ship have a first officer. He reholstered
the weapon and returned to his seat, to oversee (from secret) the
Federation drills.
"Get someone to that station," he said, disgusted that he was
forced to kill his own first officer. "No one is to read the commanding
officers orders, except for him! Understand?!" he yelled from his chair;
a headache was setting in. He returned to thoughts of the mission and its
outcome ahead, no more energy wasted on such things as possible spies.
Once the Borg are gone, the Federation will be weaken by
their loss of starships and then....
Kill two birds, with one stone.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Admiral?" the Aide said entering the inner office of the Commander
in Chief of Borg Operations (CINCBOP). Fortunately for the ensign,
CINCBOP wasn't in. Too bad, she thought, I don't have to hear her spout
about this and that today. But, unfortunately for the ensign, her
encrypted file on the data wafer she held would most likely save hundreds
of lives. Only she didn't know that.
The young african female strolled into the office and laid the
wafer down on top of the paper files that were scattered about the desks
surface. She looked down and read the titles of some of the files:
'Romulan Data: Borg Unreminting', 'Gamma Quad.: Battle Drills', and 'Borg
& Jem'Hadar: Attack Emminent'. She noticed the stardates on all the files;
two weeks prior to this date.
The young officer looked up and out the windows that gave the most
beautiful view of the Bay she had ever seen. She wondered what exactly
those files meant, but too scared to look into them. Not even a peak, the
admiral would know something had changed. Best to just leave the wafer
and go, she thought exiting the room. Back to work, not another thought
of what she had saw and read.
She didn't know that the Admiral was withholding information that
could have possibly saved thousands of lives in the next few weeks.
Actually, no one knew, no one except the Commander in Chief of Borg
Operations, Admiral Necheyev.
*** **** **** ***
"Time?" Picard said from the captains chair. He was finally getting
used to the fact that this inky-dinky ship was going to be 'home' until
the mission was over, no matter it's outcome. He looked down in front of
him, two ensigns at their stations and a large display for them and him
of the ships orientation. My god, he thought, this is pretty damned
crude. How could Mr. Scott and the rest of StarFleet live on these
vessels?
"Twelve minutes to Golondon 'Cor system, Captain," Ensign Topper
said from his position at the helm console. He had worked both shifts,
just to be able to be on the bridge, to be a party to history. He was now
finally getting tired of it, tired of sitting in these outdated seats, he
needed to get some sleep. Too bad he hadn't seen the beds yet, he would
consider sleeping at his post.
"Mr. Scott" he said, after punching the little red button on the
right hand arm rest. He was kind of enjoying bing able to do things for
himself, not having to rely on the computer for everything, independance
is what they called it.
Scottie had just made it back to Engineering, he had slept his full
eight hours like he hadn't slept in a century. It was the feeling of
being home, of being where he belonged, on a Constitution Class starship.
He just didn't like the new, confounded warp drive system, it relied too
heavily on the matter/anti-matter containment pods and not enough on the
dilithium crystals. He felt they weren't cheating enough out of the
crystals, like he had done on the original Enterprise. He felt they were
just wasting the matter/antimatter material and not savering every last
bit of energy that was being channeled through the crystals. That's why
they have so many problems with those damned warp core breaches, he thought.
Finally hearing the call and answering, "Scott here,".
"Mr. Scott, readings up here show a drop in flow from the matter/
antimatter containment pods, any guess what's happened?" Picard said
looking over to the Lt. seated at the Engineering Console, the one that
had pointed out the drop in flow...about twenty minutes ago.
"Aye,sir.."
"Well, Mr. Scott?"
Scottie hestitated to say anything, he knew what these twenty-
fourth century captains were like: don't touch anything, I don't care,
it's my ship. Then he got around to blurting it out in an old drawn
Scottish tone," Ah decided ta go ahead an' make a few changes to the warp
drive... Ah think Ah make it better."
"Mr. Scott, we are going into Romulan space in twenty minutes, we
don't need any trouble from the warp drive." Picard said, he noticed the
Lt. at the Engineering console look wide-eyed at the console, then turn
to him.
"Too late, Captain,"Scottie was saying,"Ah already made the
changes...They should have started makin' a difference a minute ago."
"Aye, Sir," the Lt. at the Engineering console said, looking at
Picard," It seems we now have a fourty percent jump in power availablity,
thrity percent more power to the weapons, fifteen percent more power to
the shields, and the flow from the containment pods has slowed to
half...sir."
"Good job, Mr. Scott." Picard was saying. He felt like kicking
himself, and so he should. He was too much a twenty-fourth century
captain, playing it by the book, never going out on the limb, never letting
anyone help unless they were on shoreleave or a weak mission. He was
afraid of change, just as the Klingons and Federation had been ninety
years earlier.
"Aye, Captain. An' rememba' it's 'Scottie'." and the channel went
dead. Even being out of the service for a few years, then being lost in a
transporter on a Dyson Sphere, he still had it, he was still the 'Miracle
Worker'.
**** **** **** **** ****
"Captain Riker, we are being hailed...it's the Exeter," Lt. Rocha
said from the communications post on the Enforcer. Rocha had served
aboard the Enterprise, and was on duty in a science lab, researching the
data she had collected on subspace fields and their subsequent effects on
electromagnetic radiation as well as artificial magnetic fields.
"Well,well,well...Hasn't Picard pulled the lucky straw,"Will Riker
said from the center seat. He stood, pulled at what would had been the
bottom of his tunic and said,"On screen, Lt.".
"Well, Captain Riker, are we enjoying our first taste of true
command,"Picard said from his own center seat. Riker's bridge was the
latest that StarFleet could do with existing technology, Picards on the
other hand, was a throw back to a by-gone era, to a century long since
forgotten (no matter how much he contended it wasn't, Riker constantly
found himself on the losing side of that history battle).
"Sir, I wish it was under different circumstances,"Riker said,
standing between the helm and navigation consoles of the Ambassador class
starship he commanded. He really wished it was under different
conditions, but so was the way of the world.
"Will...it's only going to get worse,"Picard began, noticing a
little red flashing light on the nav console. Now what does that mean? he
thought. But instead continued,"We need you and the captains of the other
fifteen vessels over here as soon as possible, say at oh-nine-hundred?"
"Relaying message now, Captain,"Riker said. The screen went
black, with little constant bits of light glowing in the distance. At the
corner of the screen were sixteen tiny, growing dots of sparkling gray.
His fleet.
**** **** ***** **** ****
When the vessel came to a relative stop in a high orbit around
Golondin 'Cor, Tomalak gave his order, "Take us in, sub-centurion."
Two minutes later the cloaked ships were in a concentric ordit
and keeping a great monitoring eye on all the vessels of their enemy.
They were monitoring, and recording, all ship to ship, and intraship
communications. All to be annalized later. The Senior Centurion who
happened to take the place of the now deceased first officer
spoke "Commander, the commanders of all the enemy vessels have
transported to the older ship, the twenty-third century one...Commander
Tomalak."
So, he thought, that's the ship they will be doing the work from.
Of course, that's were Picard is. "Senior Centurion, decloak and hail the
lead ship."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Captain!" Worf shouted, pointing to the main viewscreen, as Picard
was just entering the turbolift. The main conference room on level three
was already becoming packed with the commanding officers of 'Task Force
Alpha'. Picard could out of the corner of his left eye Worf throwing an
arm toward the viewer. He spun on his heals, grabbing the door that began to
shut on him. The mechanism that governed the working to the 'lift doors
slowly got the point and reopened them. Picard's eyes took the usual half
second to adjust to the difference is color and perception, but when they
did finally adjust; he saw what he was expecting he'd see: a Romulan
Warbird decloaking and coming in toward them on a parabolic coarse.
But not one Warbird, but the standard three; all larger than life,
all four times the size of his vessel. Once the ships were on a parallel
orbital course, he noticed the abnormal amount for light they seemed to
be reflecting from the planet below. Something that the computer and
viewscreen compensated for by dimming the view.
"We are being hailed," Worf said. He was not calm, he was just Klingon,
and that's the way they are; no good description in earth words could
quite describe their intensity for the moment, with possibly a battle
ready to take place. Picard thought otherwise.
"On View..." he said. Slowly the viewscreen changed from the shape
of three Warbirds and an obtruse planetoid, to that of an old enemy. Old
enemy? Picard thought, is that how they, how he thinks of me?
"Ahhh, Captain Pee-card, how nice it is to see you again," Tomalak
said from the inlarged view of his head. The three dimentional components
of the twenty-third century where not of the highest quality, Picard thought.
"Commander Tomalak, you were to wait within the Neutral Zone until
we contacted you,"Picard said, making his tone quite clear: he wasn't
happy with the situation. He moved back to the center seat, sitting down
he crossed his legs in a way that most humanoid men found uncomfortable.
And arms crossed over his chest, in quite the defensive manner.
"Please, understand, Captain Pee-card, we felt that if there was
going to be a meeting of the minds of your laughable 'Task Force',
perhaps we should come along,"Tomalak said, making his move on trying to
get inside the Federation, to know exactly what they planned, "so to
help you understand the current situation on the farside of the
Romulan Empire..."
Picard sat in his seat, listening to Tomalak ramble on about
something or other, then made the decision that took everyone, including
Tomalak by surprise," Commander Tomalak, it would indeed be beneficial to
us all to have you at our conference... I'll have you beamed right over."
Worf sat stunned behind Picard, unable to utter a single objection to
this plan, then Picard went on when he saw that Tomalak was almost on
the floor with disbelief," Good thinking, Commander."
A moment later the co-ordinates of Commander Tomalak where programmed
into the hundred year old transporter, and the Romulan was on board.
Something the Romulan commander had not ever dreamed of: he was now
going to sit in on a StarFleet combat readiness conference, without being
accused of being a spy. Tomalak was thanking the gods (the gods that the
Romulan government said existed) that he had a strong heart.
**** **** ****
Picard walked into the already crowded conference room, with
Tomalak trailing behind him. The fool had beamed over to the ship armed,
and was quite irritated when it was taken from him. But that was not the
least of Jean-Luc's worries: to see the faces of the other Captains when
he entered with Tomalak, now that was worth the mass of this ship in
platinum.
"What's going on here, Picard?" was the only words spoken to the
'Task Force' Commander. They came from Captain Edward Jellico, of the USS
Cairo, a man most admired for his command abilities, yet most hated
because of the way he got things done. The same was the case for Picard,
he was polite to Jellico, but didn't really care for the man.
"Ed, please." Jean-Luc said moving to his seat at the end of the
table. This meeting had been planned from the beginning, so a new longer,
standard conference table had been put in the place of the original. A
loss to history; so was the price of freedom; so was the price of war. A
war they really didn't have to fight at this time.
Tomalak followed behind Picard to the front of the table, taking a
stance to the right of the Captain. He would stand, all seats already
taken, and no one willing to give up theirs for a Romulan. Picard spoke,
quietting the low murmurring that was coming from the opposite end of the
table," This is Romulan Commander Tomalak, he is the man in charge of the
Romulan fleet that we will be assisting on this mission."
Tomalak made a slow deliberate nod to the commandering officers of
the StarFleet ships, doing his best to seem in touch with the ways of the
humans. Though only half of the seventeen commanding officers were
actually human.
"Okay, Captain, so what's this all about?" Will Riker said, sitting
halfway down the righthand side of the marble-topped table. He was just
as anxious to find out what they were going to be doing, exactly.
Picard leaned forward, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, a
small smile showing through anyway, and shot a glance back toward
Tomalak. They knew what he meant, not everything until Tomalak has left.
"The Romulans have asked the Federation for assistance in defending the
Beta Quadrant against the Borg..."
"We know that much already," said a tight, mechanical voice, the
voice of someone Picard didn't know. A Benzite, ugly blue guys who sucked
down cold carbon dioxide to breath.
"Well, you don't know everything," Tomalak said, looking at the odd
alien with disgust. He felt sick just looking at the blue creature,
obviously one inferior to him.
"Commander Tomalak is going to explain it fully," Picard said,
leaning back and looking up to the Romulan,"Aren't you, Commander?"
Putting him on the spot.
"If you insist, Captain,"Tomalak answered. He looked down, them
began to gaze around the table at the individuals who were coming to his
worlds, his empires, rescue. "A few months ago, we picked up evidence of
the Borg, or whatever you call them. Anyway, we discovered through deep
space missions toward the Delta Quadrant, that the Borg were indeed
coming. And not with just one Cube."
Ingorant Jellico cut him off,"Exactly how many did your sensors
detect?".
"Six Cubes, to be precise. Before they had a chance to get into
our territory, we sent ships to destroy them. They failed."
"Didn't they even get one of the bastards?" Jellico asked. He
seemed to like to interupt people in the middle of their stories. Picard
thought, Perhaps I should try to do the same to him sometime, so he sees
what it's like. But Picard couldn't bring himself to be that rude, to anyone.
"Captain, you test my patience," Tomalak said, looking down his
thick, bony brow at the balding man at the opposite end of the table.
Anyway," We lost nine Warbirds," which seemed to peak everyones
attention, " and were only able to destroy two of the Cubes. But then
they stopped, I believe they want us to come to them. Then when we are
weak, they will slaughter our people."
"The Borg don't slaughter, they assimilate." Riker said leaning
back, understanding now what was going on and what was going to happen.
Tomalak took the next half hour to explain where the Borg ships
were, where they were heading, and how his people were going to defeat
them. Tomalak was frightened by the fact that the Empire might fall, he
just didn't know to who it would fall to, The Borg or the Federation.
He then went on to explain why the StarFleet vessels were coming along,
and then said,"As seeing that the Federation is sending almost half of
its' already depleted StarFleet to help us, we are sending an additional
fifteen Warbirds and numerous other ships of war to defend ourselves."
It was more than one person who picked up the mention of how bad
StarFleet was still aching, even five (or six) years after its' close
annihilation to the Borg.
The meeting ended with schedules and other plans being sent to the
StarFleet ships, and Tomalak returning to his vessel. He noted that they
had been generous enough to send him a copy of the schedule as well.
It was in the schedule that he noted they were leaving orbit in
less than two hours. It was he and his three ships that would lead them
to a rendevue with the Romulan Fleet, before heading to the system the
Borg now occupied.
The Empire is going to fall, he thought, but to who? the
Federation, or the Borg?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"Captain!" Worf shouted, pointing to the main viewscreen, as Picard
was just entering the turbolift. The main conference room on level three
was already becoming packed with the commanding officers of 'Task Force
Alpha'. Picard could out of the corner of his left eye Worf throwing an
arm toward the viewer. He spun on his heals, grabbing the door that began to
shut on him. The mechanism that governed the working to the 'lift doors
slowly got the point and reopened them. Picard's eyes took the usual half
second to adjust to the difference is color and perception, but when they
did finally adjust; he saw what he was expecting he'd see: a Romulan
Warbird decloaking and coming in toward them on a parabolic coarse.
But not one Warbird, but the standard three; all larger than life,
all four times the size of his vessel. Once the ships were on a parallel
orbital course, he noticed the abnormal amount for light they seemed to
be reflecting from the planet below. Something that the computer and
viewscreen compensated for by dimming the view.
"We are being hailed," Worf said. He was not calm, he was just Klingon,
and that's the way they are; no good description in earth words could
quite describe their intensity for the moment, with possibly a battle
ready to take place. Picard thought otherwise.
"On View..." he said. Slowly the viewscreen changed from the shape
of three Warbirds and an obtruse planetoid, to that of an old enemy. Old
enemy? Picard thought, is that how they, how he thinks of me?
"Ahhh, Captain Pee-card, how nice it is to see you again," Tomalak
said from the inlarged view of his head. The three dimentional components
of the twenty-third century where not of the highest quality, Picard thought.
"Commander Tomalak, you were to wait within the Neutral Zone until
we contacted you,"Picard said, making his tone quite clear: he wasn't
happy with the situation. He moved back to the center seat, sitting down
he crossed his legs in a way that most humanoid men found uncomfortable.
And arms crossed over his chest, in quite the defensive manner.
"Please, understand, Captain Pee-card, we felt that if there was
going to be a meeting of the minds of your laughable 'Task Force',
perhaps we should come along,"Tomalak said, making his move on trying to
get inside the Federation, to know exactly what they planned, "so to
help you understand the current situation on the farside of the
Romulan Empire..."
Picard sat in his seat, listening to Tomalak ramble on about
something or other, then made the decision that took everyone, including
Tomalak by surprise," Commander Tomalak, it would indeed be beneficial to
us all to have you at our conference... I'll have you beamed right over."
Worf sat stunned behind Picard, unable to utter a single objection to
this plan, then Picard went on when he saw that Tomalak was almost on
the floor with disbelief," Good thinking, Commander."
A moment later the co-ordinates of Commander Tomalak where programmed
into the hundred year old transporter, and the Romulan was on board.
Something the Romulan commander had not ever dreamed of: he was now
going to sit in on a StarFleet combat readiness conference, without being
accused of being a spy. Tomalak was thanking the gods (the gods that the
Romulan government said existed) that he had a strong heart.
**** **** ****
Picard walked into the already crowded conference room, with
Tomalak trailing behind him. The fool had beamed over to the ship armed,
and was quite irritated when it was taken from him. But that was not the
least of Jean-Luc's worries: to see the faces of the other Captains when
he entered with Tomalak, now that was worth the mass of this ship in
platinum.
"What's going on here, Picard?" was the only words spoken to the
'Task Force' Commander. They came from Captain Edward Jellico, of the USS
Cairo, a man most admired for his command abilities, yet most hated
because of the way he got things done. The same was the case for Picard,
he was polite to Jellico, but didn't really care for the man.
"Ed, please." Jean-Luc said moving to his seat at the end of the
table. This meeting had been planned from the beginning, so a new longer,
standard conference table had been put in the place of the original. A
loss to history; so was the price of freedom; so was the price of war. A
war they really didn't have to fight at this time.
Tomalak followed behind Picard to the front of the table, taking a
stance to the right of the Captain. He would stand, all seats already
taken, and no one willing to give up theirs for a Romulan. Picard spoke,
quietting the low murmurring that was coming from the opposite end of the
table," This is Romulan Commander Tomalak, he is the man in charge of the
Romulan fleet that we will be assisting on this mission."
Tomalak made a slow deliberate nod to the commandering officers of
the StarFleet ships, doing his best to seem in touch with the ways of the
humans. Though only half of the seventeen commanding officers were
actually human.
"Okay, Captain, so what's this all about?" Will Riker said, sitting
halfway down the righthand side of the marble-topped table. He was just
as anxious to find out what they were going to be doing, exactly.
Picard leaned forward, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, a
small smile showing through anyway, and shot a glance back toward
Tomalak. They knew what he meant, not everything until Tomalak has left.
"The Romulans have asked the Federation for assistance in defending the
Beta Quadrant against the Borg..."
"We know that much already," said a tight, mechanical voice, the
voice of someone Picard didn't know. A Benzite, ugly blue guys who sucked
down cold carbon dioxide to breath.
"Well, you don't know everything," Tomalak said, looking at the odd
alien with disgust. He felt sick just looking at the blue creature,
obviously one inferior to him.
"Commander Tomalak is going to explain it fully," Picard said,
leaning back and looking up to the Romulan,"Aren't you, Commander?"
Putting him on the spot.
"If you insist, Captain,"Tomalak answered. He looked down, them
began to gaze around the table at the individuals who were coming to his
worlds, his empires, rescue. "A few months ago, we picked up evidence of
the Borg, or whatever you call them. Anyway, we discovered through deep
space missions toward the Delta Quadrant, that the Borg were indeed
coming. And not with just one Cube."
Ingorant Jellico cut him off,"Exactly how many did your sensors
detect?".
"Six Cubes, to be precise. Before they had a chance to get into
our territory, we sent ships to destroy them. They failed."
"Didn't they even get one of the bastards?" Jellico asked. He
seemed to like to interupt people in the middle of their stories. Picard
thought, Perhaps I should try to do the same to him sometime, so he sees
what it's like. But Picard couldn't bring himself to be that rude, to anyone.
"Captain, you test my patience," Tomalak said, looking down his
thick, bony brow at the balding man at the opposite end of the table.
Anyway," We lost nine Warbirds," which seemed to peak everyones
attention, " and were only able to destroy two of the Cubes. But then
they stopped, I believe they want us to come to them. Then when we are
weak, they will slaughter our people."
"The Borg don't slaughter, they assimilate." Riker said leaning
back, understanding now what was going on and what was going to happen.
Tomalak took the next half hour to explain where the Borg ships
were, where they were heading, and how his people were going to defeat
them. Tomalak was frightened by the fact that the Empire might fall, he
just didn't know to who it would fall to, The Borg or the Federation.
He then went on to explain why the StarFleet vessels were coming along,
and then said,"As seeing that the Federation is sending almost half of
its' already depleted StarFleet to help us, we are sending an additional
fifteen Warbirds and numerous other ships of war to defend ourselves."
It was more than one person who picked up the mention of how bad
StarFleet was still aching, even five (or six) years after its' close
annihilation to the Borg.
The meeting ended with schedules and other plans being sent to the
StarFleet ships, and Tomalak returning to his vessel. He noted that they
had been generous enough to send him a copy of the schedule as well.
It was in the schedule that he noted they were leaving orbit in
less than two hours. It was he and his three ships that would lead them
to a rendevue with the Romulan Fleet, before heading to the system the
Borg now occupied.
The Empire is going to fall, he thought, but to who? the
Federation, or the Borg?
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Captain Janeway!" Kira shouted, but the woman kept going. She had
come to Ops. looking for Sisko, and now was about to meet him, face to
face. Around the outer ring of consoles on the upper level, then straight
through the metal/glass double doors that led to his office. Sisko was
sleeping on the couch off to the side of his desk, the hollering in the
stations main operations center had awakened him. But not quick enough...
"Commander Sisko, get up," she said, looking over the tall black
human, "We need to talk." But when Sisko took the extra moment that he
usually did to get up, she ordered,"Now."
This is not the way it is supposed to be, he thought. "Captain, I've
had the evacuation sped up, and now that it's complete, leave me be." He
didn't like the tone of her voice, so Sisko felt it was time to show her
what he could say.
"Sisko, you didn't get rid of all of them." she said, meaning the non-
essentials that lived and toured the station. Who? he wondered, getting
to his feet.
"Who?"
"I had that evil Ferengi that owns that bar down there shipped to
Bajor, next one I find, goes in the brig." She moved over to his desk,
"Understood?"
"Yes, Captain." Both of their voices lost the hostility. Then she
took a seat in front of the desk, Sisko sat opposite her: behind the
desk. For him it reaffirmed the power that he had as station manager.
"Orders from StarFleet Command are for you and your crew of the
Defiant to move into the Gamma Quadrant for a short intelligence
gathering mission, then to return back here." She said, looking...no,
starring...into his eyes. Janeway tossed a small red tubular object on
the table, a simple type of iso chip they used on this Cardassian built
station. "The complete orders are there...as are the orders for a
temparary 'field promotion' for you to Captain." She looked down and
removed something from a pocket on her uniform, the four pip, the one
that would make him Captain Ben Sisko.
She laid it on the desk, then turned to leave. Flinging her hair
back, she said only,"Congrads.". And she left. The complete orders where
on the chip that she gave Sisko.
He and his crew, the crew of the Starship Defiant, were to leave
as soon as the crew and ship were ready. It seemed that Janeway had
complete control of everything, even the station and the Defiant...as
soon as he returned from this 'intelligence mission' to the Gamma
Quadrant.
An hour later, he and his crew were through the wormhole...cloaked.
**** ***** **** *****
"Course, Captain?" the night watch helmsman asked. Everyone needs
sleep, Picard thought, even I do.
"Make course parallel to that of the Romulan Warbirds. When they
leave, match warp speed for warp speed." he answered, swiveling one
eighty to look at Worf, the only other officer who had decided to stay on
until they were under way. But Worf wasn't in the tired mood that Picard
was, he seemed angered about something, just no one knew what. "Mr. Worf,
communications from other ships?"
"All StarFleet vessels are prepared for warp speed...on your word,
Captain," Worf said, actually wondering who was going to be the
commanding officer on the remainder of gamma watch.
Picard turned back to the viewscreen, crossed his legs in the way
only he could, "Mr. Worf, hail the lead Romulan vessel." His voice was
beginning to break, something to do with all the pressure he felt, to do
with simply being tired.
His eyes slid half shut, then darted back to full awareness when
he realized the screen had changed from the planet to the unfamiliar
interior of a Romulan Warbird. One familiar thing was there though, the
inlarged face of Commander Tomalak, "You are finally ready, Captain?" he
asked leaning a little more forward, into the screen, as he spoke.
"We are, indeed, Commander,"Picard said, feeling the fatigue set
in. He needed some sleep, at least a few hours, to be effective on the
rest of the mission. "Whenever you are..."
"Captain Pee-card, see you at the D'Loud system...we will
coordinate there with my fleet." Tomalak said, a small smile forming at
the corners of his mouth. Tomalak seemed almost eager to go to battle, as
if he didn't fear the Borg anymore.
He screen moved back to the planet and fleet, followed by the
movement of three ships from orbit. The large Romulan battle ships jumped
to warp at the first sign that the Federation fleet was moving out of orbit.
The Exeter took up a position in the middle of the StarFleet pack once
they got to warp, easily keeping up with the newer, 'better' ships.
"Entering Romulan Neutral Zone," the female computer voice said
to all on the bridge, followed by the standard warning of treaty
violation. Something that they didn't think the Romulans used when they
made such 'mistakes'.
The turbolift door slid open behind Picard, and out stepped two
officers, one for communications, the second being the night watch
commander. Lt. Barclay relieved Worf from his position, as Commander
Deanna Troi stole the center seat from Picard. He didn't put up much of a
fight.
For the next seven hours nothing out of the expected happened,
although it did seem odd to Troi that the Captain had slept that long. He
finally arrived back on the bridge twenty minutes before they were to
drop from warp for D'Loud orbit.
Now it was only a matter of hours, and a little coordination of
efforts, before they would leave for the neighboring star system. A
system the Romulans had been trying to the Borg of for weeks, a system
that would take many more lives than those already lost.
A system, a battle field, that Picard wasn't looking forward to
move to. A system that Picard didn't want to be his resting place. A
system that Picard had feared since he heard of its existence, or rather
the existence of the 'lifeforms' that had control of it.
Troi could feel the pain. She sensed every emotion that he was
feeling, she knew everything that he feared. But those where the reasons
for her being on this mission at all, to watch over the Captain, to be
his consultant, to be his counselor. Not to be the commander of the night
watch, that only came as 'luck' as some would call it, though she saw it
differently.
"Captain," she said, moving from the center seat. She stopped as
he moved toward that chair, brushing shoulder to shoulder, so close that
only they could hear each others' words," why not talk about it?"
Even though the captain had the time, had the power, had the energy,
he just didn't have the guts to speak that openly to her. And he didn't
know exactly why, though it was a problem that had troubled him from the
beginning of their relationship. Picard threw it away as being somehow
related to the 'fear' of children he had, though this had to run much
deeper. Even in his torture from the hands of the Cardassians a few years
earlier, he had found himself just as frightened of talking to Deanna as
he did being punished by the Cardassians.
"I think I have everything in control, Councelor" he said. A bold
faced lie, one she knew to be a lie. In actuality Picard felt like
quitting, giving up, too many problems, too many difficulties. He felt
the universe revolving around him, as if the events before him were out
of his control. And to his later dismay, he would find, that indeed
things were out of his hands, out of his control.
Picard would realize, though, that not all things, all events
were out of control, only the large events were. And most things going on
on this mission were ,indeed, quite large.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Coming up on last known position of the type one probe, Captain,"
Dax said from her science library console of to the side of the Defiants'
bridge. Seated in the raised center chair was the newly promoted Captain
Benjamin Sisko, and he didn't even like the sound of that. But he didn't
know why. Most likely, he thought, because their going to take it away
from me once this is over. Remember, Ben, it's only a 'field promotion',
something StarFleet didn't mind handing out, so long as they got them back.
Before leaving DS9, Captain Janeway (while in the process of moving
a few things into Sisko's office, trying to make it her own) slipped
Sisko the coordinates of a cloaked Federation prode that should still be
recording data. Obviously they had seen something like this coming, and
without saying a damned word of it to Sisko. He laughed inwardly at the
idea of Janeway making his office, hers. As if he wouldn't throw her out
on her ass, or at least get Odo to do it. Seeing that he is the Chief of
Security.
"Scan for the emissions of the probe, then transmit information
transfer code,"Sisko said, legs crossed, arms crossed. Seated in front of
him were to ensigns he didn't recognize, mostly everyone else he knew.
Bashir was sitting at his station, uneasy, he didn't like the Gamma
Quadrant all that much to begin with. Now they were going to deal with,
not only the Dominion and the Jem'Hadar, but the Borg as well. He seemed,
to Sisko, ready to pounce on the first mishap to shout that they were all
going to die, and die for nothing. It was something Julian Bashir was not
afraid of hiding: his fear, and the belief it was easier to close the
wormhole forever than to deal with the Jem'Hadar (and now the Borg).
"The probe has decloaked and is transmitting on a secure
frequency, Benjamin." Jadzia Dax said. She was now standing at her
station, watching over the monitors as the data screamed past each at a
rate only a two distant androids could match.
"And?" Sisko asked, moving toward the station. First they had to
know whether there had been movement on this side of the wormhole, then
their orders where quite specific : find the Borg, find the Jem'Hadar,
find out how we can catch them by surprise.
Only one thing stood in the way of those plans, Sisko had thought,
and that is that the Borg can't be ambushed, they are machines: always
ready to move, always ready to assimilate.
"And..." Dax said, looking over her shoulder at him,"And this is
going to take a while. I need to look over what ships came by here,
then I need to see when they came by. After all that, we still have
to calculate their course, bearing, and speed." She glanced back down
at the screens, still flashing with the transfer of data at an
incredible rate.
"Helm," Sisko said, turning on his heals. He moved back up to the
elevated captains chair, waiting for a responce from the officer.
"Aye, sir?" the young officer said, looking back at his Captain
with large, frightened, puppy-dog eyes.
"Once the data scream is complete, decloak the ship...and destroy
the probe."
"Aye, sir." he said, looking around Sisko at the Romulan officer
standing toward the back of the ships' bridge. She nodded to him,
understanding the orders, without having the captain speak to her. It
was, officially, the helmsman's job to imform the Romulan of the
captain's orders to decloak for something like this. But she had heard
the captain, and understood. She didn't want to be told again.
"All data has been transferred and the memory banks of the probe
have been erased, Captain." Dax said looking around at the man in the
center seat.
Sisko leaned a little forward, softly speaking to the man ten or
so feet infront of him," That was cue, ensign." he said. Then he leaned
back, noticing the lights brighten as power to th cloaking device was
shut down. A light, very light, tingling sensation swept over his body, a
comfortable feeling that he didn't mind. Something he hadn't noticed
anyother time they cloaked/decloaked the ship.
"Firing" the ensign said. A single bolt of phased energy, darted
from somewhere underneath the position of the bridge, hit the tiny,
almost unseeable probe. In a flash, the probe was turned into
interstellar dust, nothing remaining. So was the power of this ship, this
over-powered ship, that is.
"Sir!" came the shout from the back of the bridge, from someone
Sisko didn't recognize. He shot up, out of the chair, hearing the
StarFleet officer say something like," Three large ships have just
entered sensor range."
Without thinking, SIsko throw out his arm, motioning to the
ROmulan woman. She knew the command, the urgency of what might have been
happening. From the emotion-full voice of the Romulan, the wrong
emotions," We are cloaking." Then Sisko felt the soft wave envelope his
entire body, but when he stopped (irresistably) to savor the feeling, it
had passed.
"On screen," were the words he spoke, moving down to stand to side
of the helm, looking intently on the screen. Though it didn't seem to
shift, the stars of the universe beyond did seem to inlargen. Meaning on
thing; that the ships, whoever they were, were heading on virtually a
direct course for them. "Magnify, full power."
The screen shifted slightly, the star got bigger and brighter, and
three ships appeared at the edge of view, almost too far away to be seen
even with subspace sensors. The three ships moved in a triangular
pattern, on a direct course viry close to them.
It didn't take long for every person on the Defiant bridge to see
that the three ships were huge metallic cubes.
**** **** ****
Docked at the large outer-ring pylons of Deep Space Nine were
four StarFleet starships, two of them Ambassador class ships, one was the
Voyager, the fourth was an Excelsior class vessel. In a stationary orbit
around the station was a Soyuz class starship, not known for its speed
or power; the Soyuz was the only ship available for this type mission. On
its' way back from a drop of stow-aways on Bajor was the sixth ship of
the so-called 'Task Force', another Excelsior class ship.
So it seems for more than fifty years, the Excelsior class, was
the epitotomy of the StarFleet, it was the flag vessel of the 'Fleet. The
ships were just that good, a design from the heavens, though the original
plans called for 'Transwarp Drive'- a flop of the times.
The StarFleet officers now ran the station, moving all personnel
to the planet, anyone not StarFleet. Except for the few that worked
aboard Sisko's Defiant, and of those only two were known by Janeway: Kira
and the changling Odo. Two more losses, she thought, that'll get blamed
on the 'Fleet because they wouldn't let us do our jobs.
She was strolling down the corridor, one that had stores and
shops and bars and casinos on it. The Pramenade, they called it. She took
the time to look at what they had been able to do with the poor
technology left to them by the Cardassians, then her communicator
chirped," Ops. to Captain Janeway,"
"Go ahead," she said, stopping at a window/port to look out at
the stars that numbered in the unthinkable.
"Sir, a coded message has been recieved for Commander Sisko," the
unfaced voice said from the heavens.
"Coded message?" Janeway said, thinking of what that could
possibly be. Then she decided to do what she knew to be wrong, what she
knew could get her court-marshalled: she called for the message to be
send to her office in Ops.
Once she got there, she over-rid the command codes that were set
so only the person recieving the mail, or a commanding officer, could
view the messages. She over-rid them, and looked at the typed words on
the screen to the left of her desk (formally Sisko's desk, she laughed)
wondering what they could mean, then realizing what they meant. Finally
she pondered who had sent them, most likely that mysterious man, she
thought. The screen went black, leaving a light afterglow of:
" THEIR COMING... NOW!!! "
But Sisko knows that already, doesn't he?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Captain, the Romulans are hailing us..." Worf said, back at his
station after the full eight hours of sleep he had. His hair was muffed,
no one had thought of bringing anything of that sort, especially on such
short notice.
"On screen, Commander." Picard said from his lowered center seat,
feeling still the after-effects of his little decussion with Troi, their
decussion on why he didn't want to talk. Before him, on the main
viewscreen, appeared the image of the Commander Tomalak.
"Captain Pee-card," the Romulan began. His ships and the Federation
ships had just dropped from warp, now they circled a small green and blue
planet, that had only a single moon. Picard had sat gazing at it,
thinking of how the small world had reminded him of his own, of earth.
But Tomalak wasn't into waiting for Picards' daydreams to end," Our
sensors indicate that our fleet is arriving now."
Picard turned slightly, glancing at the Bolian who occuppied the
science station. When he nodded in agreement to Tomalak's statement,
Picard turned back to the screen, " What next, Commander?".
Tomalak sat still for a moment, then leaned into the screen," We
will engage the Borg at the V'Larm system tomorrow, our fleets spred to
our own patterns. Our fleets will not communicate unless death requires
it..." Tomalak went on. Picard sat thinking of how bad their situation
was really becoming. It seemed to Picard that Tomalak was making up the
rules as they went along, as they were needed.
"Once we arrive in the system, you should have your efforts
coordinated to destroy the Borg threat...just as I will work out our
strategies tonight." Tomalak stated, definitely going from the top of the
head. He sat back, complete with his talk. The points of which he had
made all too obvious: this was not going to be a 'joint effort' in
battling the Borg.
"Well then, Commander Tomalak," Picard said," We will begin drills
and some 'battle readiness testing' as soon as this conversation is over."
'Battle readiness testing', Tomalak thought, for their ships?
please. Tomalak knew that they would be able to defeat the Borg now, with
the help of the Federation, but only with the loss of so many lives....so
many Federation lives, Tomalak thought. "I expect to leave here by zero
six hundred hours tomorrow morning, Captain."
"Very good."
"Then this conversation ends,now." Tomalak said, the screen slowly
going blank, then turning back into a blue and green world with one moon.
Picard hit the red button on the arm rest, seconds later he heard,"
Scott here, Sir.", a voice he was already finding comfort in, a voice
that gave power to the ship by just being there, almost.
"Mr. Scott, We are going to begin some internal drills
shortly...are your engines upto the task?" Picard asked, feeling good for
some odd reason. Feeling young, feeling like death was nowhere around.
Only fooling himself.
"Captain, Ah know we aren't goin' ta battle, but these engines
could stand up ta their entire fleet, sir." Scottie said, heavy on the
Scottish accent. Even in his voice you could here the joy the man was
having just being in engineering, not to mention once again being the
chief engineer on a Constitution class ship.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott." Picard said, cutting the circuit a second
later. He uncrossed his legs and swiveled to see Worf. The Klingon looked
as though he wanted to rave for hours on end on why they shouldn't be
helping the Romulans, but said nothing. Picard spoke," Tell Captain Riker
and the others: to get ready, make sure their ready, we're...they're
going to battle tomorrow.".
But only if he could come up with a new, decent strategy for
fighting the Borg by then... oh six hundred tomorrow. "A date with
destiny..." Picard whispered to himself, leaving the bridge.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Scottie had been working hard to get the old girl ready for any
possible attack they may have to make against the Borg, though Picard had
already voiced to him that they weren't going into battle. An hour after
they slowed from warp and took a position in orbit, he had found it
necessary to climb his way up the thin Jeffries' Tube that ran the length
of the the connecting dorsal. There seemed to be a slight drop in power
to the communications array, possibly the most vital system on the ship
on this particular mission.
Captain Scott had traced the problem to a small conduit off the
Jeffries' Tube, close to the impulse engines. He had forgotten how small,
how tight the tube was on him, wishing that he had done a little more to
keep in shape. Below him he the footsteps of someone entering the
junction room, where the Jeffries tube could be accessed from. Over the
low hum of electric currents buzzing pass him at the speed of light, he
heard a slightly familiar voice shout up," Captain Scott, isn't that a
job you could have given to someone else?"
"Ah didn't want anyone else foolen' with ma' engines or anything,
Geordi," Scottie said, sucking in his oversized gut so to sneak a tiny
peek down the tube at the Lt. Commander. "Hold on, Ah'll be done up here
in a minute..." he said, knowing that the job he come to do was already
complete.
It took Scottie a good four or five minutes to wriggle his way down
the tube. Once he got down to the floor, he grabbed and shook La Forges
hand, as if they were old buddies who once served together. " So, Geordi,
what brings you over here?" he asked, smiling still.
"I heard of what you had done to the engines and their output," La
Forge said, taking a long look at the replicated tools of the mid-twenty-
third century that Scottie had needed to do the repair job.
"Uh, that. That was nothing, ma' boy," Captain Montegomery Scott
said to Lt. Commander Geordi La Forge. "All Ah did was change the flow,
then Ah redirected the stream more precisely through the crystal... a
little more work here and a little more dabbling there, and Voila! the
engines are working better than designed." He was obviously proud of what
he had been able to do. And La Forge was slightly amazed at it as well,
especially since he had been trying to perfect that type of tinkering on
the engines of the Enterprise for two years, the two years before her demise.
"And you knew what to do without thinking of it first? You mean
you've done that before?" Geordi asked, still in awe at the raw talent he
saw before him. Without his even noticing, they had walked back to Main
Engineering and were now standing before the Crystal Chamber. He could
free the power, the heat, coming from the device ten feet away, but
that's the way it was supposed to be.
"Not everything we engineers in the twenty-third century made it to
the technical manuals. Ya' have ta' keep moving things aroun' ta gett'em
ta work. Why it took me four years on the original Enterprise to finally
figure that one out...then I never wrote it down." Scottie said, gazing
at the equipment around him. " Ah'll tell ye' again, how do you expect to
be a 'Miracle Worker' if ye' canna' give more power when the Captain asks
for it?"
"I guess your right, Scottie," La Forge said, looking at the tried
and true 'Miracle Worker'. Then he thought of something, maybe," Captain
Scott, You mind giving me a hand doing to the same for my ship? Then I
can show the other Chiefs how to do the same." The more powerful their
fleet, the better.
"Ah thought you'd never ask," Scottie said, as they started for the
transporter room. He was already trying new ways of defeating the Borg,
though he only knew them from what the computers said. But maybe that
would be enough," Ah was gonna offer ta help ye' even if ye' didna ask,
Geordi," he said patting the blind man on the back. "Ah wouldna want to
see ye die in battle against these monsters..."
They had ten hours to tinker with sixteen other ships; Scottie, of
course, said it couldn't be done. But it was, in less than five. He
finally returned to the Exeter. Time for ye' ta get a little rest
Montegomery, he thought heading to his quarters. Tamorrow is gonna be a
helluva day, Aye, that she is...
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Oh god, oh no, christ it's the Borg, Sisko thought slumping back into
the raised command chair. He was afraid something like this might happen,
and with his luck - it did. Pull it together, dammit, he thought
straightening himself in the seat. He leaned forward, elbows on knees,"
Did they see us?"
From a station off to the side Jadzia Dax answered," If they did,
they aren't going to change course." The answer was not surprising, Sisko
could feel the emotions drain from those around him, they were already
losing hope.
"Helm, time to intercept." Sisko said, little beads of sweat forming
on his dark brow. What to do, only one thing to do, He thought, go home,
and play we survive. No!, he told himself, we will survive, that's what
this ship was built for.
"With them moving on an intercept course, at warp eight... nineteen
minutes, sir." the ensign said, turning to look at Sisko. The face of the
young officer said more without words, than it did with them. Sisko could
feel the pressure coming down on him, on his shoulders. The lives of all
those here rested on his shoulders, but the fear went for his stomach, a
burning sensation he knew all too well.
"Ensign, plot a course back to the wormhole...warp eight point
five." he said. No one said a word, the bridge laid quiet for a few
seconds, seemingly an eternity to those outside the conversation. The
course was plotted and the engines engaged, a low hum slowly growing into
a pulsating shake.
The Romulan stepped up to the worried, shaken Sisko," We can't keep
cloaked at this speed long enough to make it back," she said, whispering
to him. Quite the uncommon Romulan she was becoming, maybe it came from
being around the damned humans too much.
"Commander T'Rul, we have to give ourselves time to get home...the
Borg aren't going to slow down because we do." Sisko said, staring deep
into her dark eyes, seeing the pain the ROmulan felt, knowing she was
torn between going home to help fight for her own people and staying
here...trying to survive. Sisko turned from her, back to the screen,
where the Borg ships were slowly moving away," If they beat up to the
wowmhole, then to the Alpha Quadrant, what's the use in warning our
people... they'll already be dead." he stopped for a moment letting that
sink in, then said," If you have to take the device offline, do it, but
then we'll need all the power to outrun the Borg when see who we are."
"I'm not an engineer, but I believe I can keep the device working
long enough to get us back to the station...just don't count on it."
T'Rul said, with a slight hiss to her voice. She stepped down and moved
back to the standing position she occupied at a console in the farthest
recesses of the Bridge.
"Sir!" the ensign at the helm shouted, the rumble of the decking
getting louder," The Borg, look!" On the main Viewscreen, the tiny specks
that were actually Borg Cubes off in the distance began to grow, and grow
quickly. Ohhhh myyy god, Sisko thought, they'd spotted us.
"Borg ships closing at warp nine point one... they will over take
us in six minutes, Benjamin!" Jadzia said from her station. The Borg
ships now seemed to be gliding ever closer on the big screen.
"Decloak...then" Sisko began, but just as he was giving his orders,
T'Rul stepped forward.
"Captain, if we decloak they will now exactly where we are," She
was saying, one hand on the back of the command chair, looking over
Sisko's shoulder.
"Well, it's apparent they now where we are going anyway, Commander
T'Rul," Bashir barked from his place off to Sisko's right. There weren't
any emergencies, yet, but if Bashir pressed his luck with the Romulan
woman, he would be the first in sickbay. "Your damned cloaking device is
just stopping us from getting away, they know where we are going...".
Sisko threw up his right arm, motioning for Bashir to quiet
himself, it was time to think. And Julian Bashir was right after all,"As
I was saying, Decloak the ship, helm take us maximum possible warp."
T'Rul barked something at Bashir, only no one here knew Romulan,
so the insult went over badly," Decloaking" she said, finally back at her
station.
"Warp eight point nine...warp nine...point one," the helm officer
stated, the deck shaking like the ones of old, like the starships of a
century before. "Warp nine point five, sir...that's all she's got." he
said turning to look over his shoulder at Sisko.
"Benjamin, the Borg are matching our speed, warp nine five...warp
nine point five seven five... time to intercept two and a half minutes."
Dax said calmly. Seven, technically eight, life times now coming to a
close, she thought, I've seen worse than this.
But 'this' was only the chase, wait til the Borg finally catch
us, she thought, then I'll know what's worse.
"Wormhole?" Sisko said, rolling his head to the side, glaring
past the science officer, remembering the last encounter he had with the
Borg.
"One minute four seconds."
"The Borg are slowing, sir!" the helm officer said. He was
pointing frantically at the viewer, like a little child trying to point
out something to his mommy. But he was correct, the Borg where slowing,
dropping from warp entirely.
"Take us in on Wormhole approach," Sisko ordered, looking around
at the officers, the deck slowly calming to the low hum of anyother mission.
The Defiant slowed to the norm, the speed with which it was safest
to enter the womhole. It was actually quite the difficult thing to do,
going through the wormhole without incident. The Defiant slid in through
the Gamma Quadrant mouth, large strings of energy flowing by, never
actually touching the ship. The electric blue glow of the inside of this
stable, yet artificial 'wormhole' through the galaxy spewed outward,
helping to propell the Defiant into the comfort of its' own home, the
Alpha Quadrant
**** ***** ****
"Captain Janeway, message coming through...from the Defiant,
sir!" someone quite un-noteworthy said from the lowered position of the
main sensor stations of Deep Space Nine. Impeccable timing it was,
Janeway was finally leaving, to return to her quarters on the Voyager. It
was turning to the beginning of the night shift, time for a little peace
and quiet, that's all she wanting now. But that is what she was not going
to get.
"On Screen" she said, standing forward of the doors to
Sisko's/her office. The Steps leading down to that lower level just at
her tows.
The wall behind the screen slowly filled in and disappeared, now
only the view of the bridge of the Defiant was there. Janeway shook her
head, thinking that they could not have possibly finished the recon.
mission that they were supposed to have accomplished. "Captain Sisko,
what exactly are you doing here?" she asked, trying to a little patience
left in her voice. Someone thought it was her time of the month, they
were right, but StarFleet came first. As usual.
"I hope you have a plan ready for the Borg, Captain, because
they're coming...now." Sisko said, standing in front of the center seat.
He was obviously worried, even scared, it didn't take a Betazed to figure
that one out. But then, that's what happened when the Borg were in the
picture, everyone got scared. "Jadzia?" he said, mystifying the captain
and crew of Ops., Deep Space Nine.
From a place, just off the screen, Janeway could here someone
rattling off number upon number, finally seeing Sisko look back up to the
screen. Drops of persperation moving toward his eyes," Captain, you have
fifteen minutes to figure something out, because in fifteen minutes the
Borg are going to come flying through the wormhole...not one, but three,
Captain, three Borg cubes...fifteen minutes."
'Get back here to the station...we'll figure it out then." She
said, the screen going blank, the wall behind finally reappearing.
Captain Janeway was tired, was sleepy, just wanted to go to bed, but now
the Borg were coming...and she was in command.
"Ensign," she said to one working the communications of the
station," announce 'Red Alert' and have all ships launch once all
personnel have boarded... then get the captains' of the ships over here.
And dammit, see that Sisko gets here first...we need to talk."
The Borg are coming, she thought, and Sisko has to be our little
Paul Revere. We stand less a chance against three cubes, than the militia
of the colonies against the Brits. Damn, she thought, damn the Borg.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Picard sat at the large, marble topped table, alone. The lights
brighter than he would have preferred, but there was little he could do
about that...the computers of the day of this ship weren't the luxury of
the ships of his day. This was definitely not a Galaxy class starship,
but then it wasn't even a Excelsior. This ship had had its' day, and if
Picard could have his way, this ship would have another day in the light.
Laid out on the table were the formulas for defeating the Borg, six
years of cumulative effort by the brains of the Federation...the Vulcans.
The Borg were half computer, and what better way to anticipate the
actions of a machine than by asking the best computer programmers in the
galaxy. But even the greatest of the Vulcans couldn't come up with a
defensive plan, idea, whatever you wish it to be, that assured defeat of
the Borg. At best, and at the strained limit of theoritical physics and
energy, they could get a single effort moving at a seventy-five percent
assurance rate. But that wasn't that promising, considering that it
gave the Federation a seventy-five percent chance of defeating the Borg
only if they could get the physics to work, which they didn't: so the
problem seemed unsolvable.
Picard decided to take it on faith, that at least some ships could
make it out alive, perhaps crawling back to the Federation, finally
defeating the Borg's Galactic Strike. But that was only on the optimistic
side of the idea, it was actually more of a dream. But that's not what
got to Picard, that's not what was eating away at him, keeping him from
coming up with a simple basic strategy that both the Romulans and the
Federation could work with.
He was the Commanding Officer of StarFleet 'Task Force Alpha'. That
didn't bother him so much, it was the fact of what he needed to do as
the head of the 'Task Force'. There were sixteen StarFleet vessels out
there and they all came under his command, it was quite like being an
Admiral, though he didn't quite look forward to doing that, to becoming
that. Jean-Luc realized that each individual that had joined the
'Fleet had given an Oath, had understood the risks of doing what they
were going to have to do. But this was like suicide, he was going to
send people to their deaths. But that was only half the problem,
Picard understood the need for death, the need to defend for the rest
of the galaxy, for those who were too weak (or too smart) to fight for
themselves. What truly hurt Picard was the fact that he was the one
who was sending these people to fight the Borg, while his ship, his
people sat back and watched.
My god, he thought, what if I'm sending someone to their death,
then only to have them be the last of their line, the last of their
family...the way I am the last of mine.
For another half hour he sat at the head of the table going over
these thoughts, again and again. Finally he help the tears hit the
papers spred before him, it was time to do what he felt he must...to
send these people to fight for the families, for the worlds,for the
peace that sent them here. It was time to talk to Tomalak...
*** *** *** *** ***
Tomalak was escorted to the Conference Room by two security people
Picard had never seen before. But that wasn't something new, he could
only know so many people, remember so many names.
"You've come up with something?" Tomalak said taking the seat at the
far end of the table. He was in his usual Romulan garb, with dark, short
cut hair coming down to his thick,bony brow. He sat rigid, like Picard
had noticed so many times before, these two were not strangers. But this
time they were going to be fighting on the same side of the line, against
a common enemy, one obsessed with galactic dominitation. If that's what
it could be considered, Picard had told himself a thousand times before.
Is it like being programmed, like the computer of this ship, not being
able to override the programs on their own? No one knew, no one but the
Borg that is.
"Not exactly, Commander." Picard started," The Federation is taking
a risk by sending us here, but I have no voice in the matter. It seems
even our best people couldn't find a way for defeating the Borg without
the lost of lives...many, many lives."
"Captain, we are leaving orbit in one hour...my fleet has
arrived...how are WE going to fight this battle?" Tomalak said, placing
all the possible emphasis on we. He sounded desparate to Picard, but
there was really nothing he could do.
"The only way to defeat them is going to be to relentlessly pound
their ships into a metallic cloud of dust...and that means having ships
out there for twenty four hours . The only way we can accomplish that is
to have your fleet out there for twelve, then backing off...giving us the
next twenve as you regroup and get repair and rest. Then we continue
until something happens in our favour, I mean, for both of us..." Picard
said feeling relieved that that was the only thing Tomalak had thought of
as well.
"Well, then, I will lead my fleet in for the first round." Tomalak
said, standing to leave.
"Make it so."
**** ***** ****
Thirty minutes later, the two fleets had arrived at the V'Larm
system, warping into the battle no one who attended would ever forget.
Around the fifth planet of the system were four Borg Cubes, moving slowly
outward, slowly toward the home planets of the Romulan Empire, though
they never make it as that speed.
The Romulan fleet slowed from warp moving in to strike at the Borg
ships, who seemed to be waiting, just waiting for them. ANd so that was
what they were doing.
The Federation Fleet slowed from warp as well, keeping their
distance, out past the final, the ten, planet of the system. THe sixteen
ships that were going to battle made to long lines of eight, stretching
out of view of the screen on the Exeter. The Command ship was going to
hold this position for the entire battle, keeping out of the front line,
as it were.
Keeping Picards' ship company was the Romulan Warbird that
commanded the opposite fleet, commanded by Commander Tomalak. The Romulan
fleet was heading in, the federation ships watched as their romulan
counterparts took on the cubes.
This is for freedom, Picard told himself, this is for freedom.
He stood to exit the bridge, turning to Worf at the communications
console," I'll be in my quarters, if anything happens I want to know."
And he left, a little sleep would do him good, though he wouldn't be able
to close his eyes from the thoughts that ran through his head.
Off in the distance, light minutes away, the romulan fleet of nine
Warbirds and six smaller attack ships buzzed the Borg ships, who made no
efforts to evade the smaller ships. They just took the shots and fired
back, doing more damage than that that was inflicted upon them. They were
waiting for the fleet to drain of power, then take them and destroy them.
Like small insects flying circles around someones head, the smaller
attack vessels weren't being touched, the Warbirds, though, weren't doing
as well.
After eleven hours of lying down, pacing back and forth, and so on,
Picard headed for the bridge. Once there, he saw that Romulan casulaties
were relatively light, compared to what he had expected.
"Tomalak to Pee-card" the voice said from the heavens. SOunding
quite dismayed at the outcome of the first romulan/Borg round of the
Battle of V'Larm.
Seated at the center as usual, Picard answered," Go ahead Commander."
From unseen Romulan bridge, Picard heard from the leader of the
Romulan FLeet," It's your turn, now."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
"Captain, fifteen seconds to weaponds range," Data said from the
helm console of the Enforcer, the already stated newest ship of the fleet.
Riker sat back in the center seat, wondering how in hell they were
going to defeat the Borg. He glanced back to a small, petite woman who
was manning (he still didn't understand that one) the communications
console," Lt., send to Exeter: We have engaged the Borg."
The ship sped toward the four large cubes at a quarter the speed of
light, the other fifteen following closely behind. The ships, the Task
Force, slowly spred out, moving out to cover all directions that the Borg
may be vulnerable. The Enforcer shot off the first round of photon
torpedos, which hit the 'lead' vessel of the Borg. The ships were
arranged in a diamond pattern, face on.
The torpedoes hit the center of the weaken BOrg vessel, but to
little surprise," No measurable damage to the Borg ship, Captain." Data
shouted as the red alert klaxon slowly faded into the background.
On the viewscreen, two of the federation ships flew directly
between the four Borg ships, letting every phaser and photon fire in the
directions of the enemy. The strategy was slightly effective, but also
backfired on the second ship. As the Maryland buzzed the space in between
the Borg ships, firing all weapons, the Borg retaliated, all ships firing
their own phased energy weapons at the ship. With the multiple hits of
Borg weapons, the ship was torn in two, directly at the point of saucer
separation. Thus causing slightly less damage than what it seemed...until
the engineering hull exploded near the lead BOrg ship. The was flung,
spinning end over end, out of the pattern of attack, toward the outer
edge of the solar system. The crew who had survived thus far where going
to make it.... in an act totally against everything Picard believed, a
Romulan vessel went to warp to help save the crew of the StarFleet ship.
Though many lives were lost in the explosion, it appeared that the
standard 'warp core breach' had torn a quarter of the lead ship away. It
was actually completely missing, nowhere to be seen.
Only seconds after the mishap with the Maryland, the Borg vessels
moved apart. Now the ships were more like four separate targets, where
they seemed as one large target before.
"The ships are diverging" Data said, manuevering the Enforcer to a
position just outside the weapons reach of the Borg. It had been decided
that the fleet would fight for ten minutes, move out of range for five,
then move back and fight another ten. Now the second round was ready to
begin, the fleet down one vessel; the Borg down a fourth of a ship. It
seemed almost unfair.
***** ***** *****
On the main viewscreen of the Exeter, Picard saw his fleet being
battered and torn down by the unrentless Borg. He found it awkward that
they were now being the aggresser, not the Borg. But that was the way it
had to be. Picard had just gotten word that the Captain and first officer
of the Maryland had died in a freak explosion on the bridge of their
ship. Then it came through that the Romulan vessel was going to
transport the remaining crew of the Maryland to the Exeter as soon as
they could. Picard had no choice in the matter, he had a battle to win.
As unlikely as that may be.
"Ah do na' understand the reasonen' behind sended so many ships to
fight these beasties. If we coulda just tossed a few warp cores at 'em,
then this woulda' been over already..." Scottie said standing off to the
side of the center seat, he had decided to watch the action from the bridge.
"Captain Scott, it isn't that easy. THose things cost time and
money..." Picard said, looking up from the screen for the first time.
"So much money and time that the lives are worth less?" Scottie
asked, he knew he had Picard with that one. Of course, his suggestion was
impractical, but it was possible if not unique.
"Scottie...." Picard began, but was interupted from something that
buzzed over the comm circuits. He spun around to look at Worf, who seemed
just as confused as Picard was about the sound. "What is that, Mr. Worf?"
"Unknown, Captain" WOrf growled" Though it is getting on my nerves."
he seemed ready to destroy the entire console in a single blow.
"Ock, Captain, tha's just feedback from the subspace transmissions
of the ships out there...they must be sending a lot of messages back an'
forth to put out that much excess." Scottie said taking the seat at the
Engineering console.
Picard sat there thinking the situation over. THere can't possibly
be that much talking going on between all my ships or the Romulan ones,
Picard thought.
Just as Picard had hit upon the fact, a message came in from the
Enforcer, a message that came to the same conclucion," Captain Picard,
this La FOrge...listen, we've analized the subspace links between the
Borg ships and have found that,well, this is quite amazing, sir..."
Geordi found himself stumbing over the words while watching the engines
of the ENforcer as it continued to pound the BOrg, and to be pounded by
the Borg. In the back Picard hears someone yell,"The conduits to the
emergency generators are fused shut...once the mains are off-line, we're
dead in the water..." but that wasn't Picards' concern now. He had to
find a better way to defeat the BOrg, at least before casualities rise
any higher. And all this only thirty minutes into a twelve hour cycle
that would keep them getting battered. The Romulans had faired better,
they had more reason to fight: the Borg were heading for their home
worlds, now his. Geordi returned from the static," It appears that the
Borg of each ship are connected to every Borg on all the other
ships...there must be billions of connections and transmissions going
back and forth at...at, frankly sir, all times."
"Understood, Geardi," Picard was saying. He really didn't know what
to say," Do what you can,just be careful." But that wasn't it, there was
far too much emotion in the way he said it, caringly for his officer of old.
The transmission ended, and SCottie darted for the 'lift," Ah got me
an idea on how ta stop tha', Captain. Ah think if we can knock off the
subspace babbling, then we'd be able to take them on without 'em knowing
what exactly happened."
"More to the point, Scottie, when the Borg find a problem they stop
what they're doing to fix it...if you can do anything with that, let me
know." Picard said turning back to the screen. On a side scanner, the
science officer noted the approaching of a Romulan ship...obviously the
one with the survivors of the Maryland.
Picard was worried, more worried than any character he had ever read
of in a Shakespearian play. From this view, his ship was well out of
present dangers' way, but his eyes told him differently. The fifteen
remaining ships limped, in some cases, and charged, in the others, out to
the point where weapons could not reach. The effort was working,
slightly, the lead Borg ship and made a sudden change with the one to
its' right, trying to take the brunt of the fire off of itself. But Will
Riker had seen the move, and kept the two thirds of the fleet he thought
was needed to put the Borg ship out of commision for good.
Picard had seen enough, this view was giving him a headache...but
then so was the thing that came next. It had seemed as if Scottie had
just got in the turbolift, when his voice came ringing," Captain Picard,
Ah do think Ah have the answer ta stoppen' the Borg talken'!"
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Sisko hound himself being transported directly from the bridge of
the Defiant into Ops., Deep Space Nine. He would have preferred to dock
the ship, with her engines slightly over-heated and all. But that would
cool down where they docked or not, and the fact he didn't have a time
estimate on the Borg arrival didn't help his case much. Every individual
in Ops. wore a StarFleet uniform, meaning that the Bajorans who were
usually here had been bused out. But that made him feel out of place, as
if this wasn't exactly his station.
To make those feelings even worse was the second he noticed Janeway
waltze from his office. Dammit, he thought, get out of my office. Of
course, she didn't give him the time, or the option, to voice himself.
Janeway waited from the large glass and metal doors to barely begin to
part when she began," Sisko, in here...". And that was it.
Ben walked to the doors, they slid open...and there she was sitting
comfortably in HIS chair, behind HIS desk. He felt the blood rushing to
his face, even though it seemed quite the trivial matter, it was one of
those little annoyances that eat at you and eat you. He took a seat, well
not actually a seat, rather he propped himself up on the front edge of
the desk letting his weight be supported (an attempt to take back, at
least a little, of what was his).
"Captain Janeway," he began, contemplating grabbing her and tossing
her out from behind the desk, especially once he noticed that what he had
upon (his desk) was irratating to her. Instead he opted to tell the
imprtant," the Borg chased the Defiant to the wormhole, then slowed, then
I don't know," he said, rolling his eyes and looking up to the ceiling,
up to the heavens. "The most important thing is we did get all the prodes
information...but even more so, the Borg can see right through our cloak."
Slowly, droplets of sweat begin to form on her brow, not exactly
something that was considered fashionable for women captain to have
happen. But then, again, it was justafiable for this situation. "I see,"
she said, looking down at Sisko's backside, still holding him, resting
him on the edge of her(?) desk. "How many?"
"How many?!" he repeated," Three cubes, isn't that enough?" Christ,
he thought, wouldn't one be enough?
"And they slowed and didn't follow you through?"
"Well, we're not being assimilated are we?" he said, just enough
sarcasm so not to be insulting, yet enough for her to feel a little
pained.
"Captain Sisko," she said, standing with both hands balled into
fists on the desk. Oh boy, he thought, here it comes. Hello Odo, you have
to put me in the brig, I was being a little mean to our new bitch...I
mean commanding officer. Ha, he thought, ha, just try it.
"Captain Sisko, get back to your ship...we're going through," She
said, walking around the desk, heading for Ops. Obviously, she wasn't
kidding.
"Captain?" he asked, quizzically.
"If we stop them, or even slow them, from coming through the
wormhole, the better." She said, motioning for Sisko to step up onto the
transporter platform. Once he had done so, " Sisko, I'll brief all the
Captains of the ships in the FLeet, once I'm ready and aboard the Voyager."
He felt a small, cold, wet shivver move up his spine and as the
transporter effect took him, a cold shudder jerked him back to reality.
But now back on the bridge of the Defiant.
**** **** **** **** ****
"Benjamin, what's going on?" Jadzia Dax asked, rushing over to
him, just as the tingling and whining sensations and sounds of the
transporter effect had deminished. Sisko shuddered and lost his
balance, falling on his rear, onto on of the steps that lead to the
higher level of the center seat.
He sat for a second, then began to laugh," I had a small talk
with Captain Janeway and she gave me the most wicked cold chill I've
ever experienced." He stood, pulled down on the top portion of his
uniform and leapt up the two steps to the chair, this one was
definitely his.
"So what are we going?" Kira interjected from the doorway to the
bridge, she had obviously just arrived. But the smile on her face
gave away the fact that she had been there long enough to see Sisko
fall on his rear. Her voice betrayed nothing, not even the great
amount of fear that she was hiding. She didn't want to fight the Borg.
Sisko looked over his shoulder, then back to the main viewscreen,
which showed both the Station and the now invisible wormhole. He rubbed
the stubble that was quickly beginning to cover his face, contemplating
for a moment whether it was the days without shaving or the stress of
those days that had led to the wild hairgrowth. He brought himself back
to reality, then felt the burden, the responsiblity to answer the
question. And so he did," We're going to the Gamma Quadrant to fight the
Borg..." he uttered, not exactly liking the idea. He pointed, halfly, to
the ceiling," Better to fight the Borg there, than to risk the
assimilation of Bajor and everything else. Besides, if we can't beat
them, at least we have the chance of destroying the Wormhole before they
can come through."
"Uh-huh," was all that anyone said, and that came from Kira, now
standing over near the station that Dax manned.
It was going to be a long wait for Janeway to get them all
underway, a long wait in their minds at least. A long aganizing wait,
that had everyone contemplating what it would be like to be a Borg.
Of course, there was one man they could have asked...but he was a
quarter of the galaxy away...fighting the Borg, again.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
"Well, Scottie," Picard said, strolling through the large, double
doors to Engineering. If what Scottie had found was going to stop the
Borg, then dammit it must be worth hearing in person, he thought. But
said," This had better be good, you know I shouldn't leave the bridge
when we're in battle."
Scottie stood there, looking at Picard with the large grin that
seemed to always be on his face in times of trouble. He was the great
"Miracle Worker" and would you believe he had done it again. He turned,
sucking in his large gut, but he had a good reason for such a gut...he
was the greatest Engineer since Zefram Cochrane, and was about as old as
Cochrane was when they had found him ninety years earlier. "Aye, sir... I
know what ye mean...but Ah think you should look at this for ye self."
THe rotund engineer lend the Captain of the Exeter over to a small
station worked into a wall near two sets of ladders/stairs that led to a
second level. On the board where dials and buttons that were more than a
century out of time, but seemed to work just as well (if not better than
his own twenty fourth century equipment).
"So what's this all mean?" Picard said looking up from the switches,
rubbing his balding head with a hand that felt a little cold and clammy.
"Ah found that the Borg talk back an' forth from ship to ship like
they do, as ye said they did, from man to man aboard one ship..." Scottie
said, not trying to let on too much as to what he had actually dicovered.
Remember, you don't let on until the solution is already been approved
and has worked.
"And that means..." Picard said, trailing his voice, leaving the
question open ended for the ChEng to answer.
"It means that Ah have already found a way ta shut down their
subspace chattering between ships, sir." Scottie answered. He looked
around at the crew that monitored the dozen different stations of the
large room, a room larger than that of the Galaxy Class starships that
seemed to redefine spaciousness aboard space vessels.
"How?" Picard asked, catching on to what the Scot was hinting at.
"All Ah need to do is set one prode, or even better a small shuttle-
craft, above the magnetic poles of each Borg ships...there they won't
detect them...too hard for even the best of sensors to detect." Captain
Scott said, using his hands to show how he would have them placed above
the emorous ships of metal and plastic. It was obvious that even Scottie
did his homework on the Borg ships.
"What are they going to do?" Picard asked...
...the ship rocked back, knocking Scottie into the console he was
using to show Picard his demonstration. Picard tumbled forward almost
into the arms of the hundred and twenty kilogram man, but the second wave
of motion pushed him to the ground. The deck swung to a thirty degree
angle, rolling Picard front over back straight into the casing for the di-
lithium crystal chamber. Scottie found a worn, old, almost comforting hand-
hold on the console, barely letting him keep his balance, to stay on his
feet. Such good news wasn't when he glanced up to see one young Ensign be
flung over the red guardrail to the floor of the Engineering room,
instantly killing the woman, her spinal cord snapped in more than two places.
Picard made it to his feet, after his thirty second bout with the
crystal chamber, immediately hitting his newer style StarFleet combadge,"
Bridge, Worf what the hell happened?"
Only static.
"Bridge, come in. Worf, do you read." Picard was beginning to worry,
the ships convulsions had settled to a slow shake every second or so.
Scottie was too busy making sure the engines where holding together,
knowing damn well that the ship wasn't designed to take a beating from
twenty fourth century weapons.
"Bridge can you hear me...Mr. Worf...Ensign..."
"Worf here." Came over the comm system, relieving Picard who was
beginning to think the worst of the posible situations.
"What happened, COmmander?" Picard said, walking, with a limp, over
to the console both he and Scottie had been looking at.
"As far as we could tell before the bridge depressurized, a random
graviton beam from the Borg Fleet as directed this way..." WOrf
continued, but that was all that Picard had to hear...the rest being the
bull.
"Before the bridge depressurized..." Picard said, again using the
familiar 'you finish this sentence' tone he had been blessed with since
childhood.
"Yes, sir," Worf said, the sound of a clunky, old turbolift in the
background. He continued," The beam tore the bridge flight recorder
straight out of the ceiling of the Bridge... if one of the unused Bridge
chairs hadn't gotten stuck we all would have died.."
Picard turned to Scottie, who was making his way back down the
ladder that led to the second deck of the large main room. Scottie had
heard the whole conversation over his own com, looking to Picard he
mouthed," That had happened before, tha's the reason the moved the damned
thing".
"Where are you now, Mr. Worf?" Picard said, hussling over to a
second console off, out of way...one that had a viewscreen. He flipped on
the screen, only to see his now battered fleet crawling back to regroup
near his cripp;led ships position. The twleve hours were finally up.
"Everyone, but Ensign Topper, the helmsman, got to the 'lift," Worf
said, he paused to let the Captain think that there was nothing they
could have done to save the red-headed officer. He took a deep breath,
somthing he had been deprived of for several long, excurciating seconds
of living in the vacuum of space," We are on our way to the Auxiliary Control
Room on deck eight."
Scottie nodded, that was the only place that control could be handled
easier than it was to do down here in Engineering, though it could be done.
Auxiliary control, was the seemingly perfect pre-cursor to the so called
'Battle Bridge' of the twenty-fourth century 'Exploration' vessels of Star
Fleet.
"Very good, Mr. Worf...let Commander Tomalak know that we are having
some..'minor difficulties'...and that his twelve hour shift is back."
"Aye, sir." WOrf said, the sound of turbolift doors swooooshing open
in the background."WOrf out."
"Well, Captain Scott," Picard said, feeling that though they had lost
a life, it could have been worse," It seems I could very well owe my life
to you."
"It won't be the last time, sir." Scottie said, a smug look on his
face, knowing that Picard would take it as light heartedly as his once
former Captain Kirk had taken such comments.
"I see... well then," Picard said, seeing a slight shift in the mood
of the situation, a slight shift in the posible friendship these two
could very possibly have. He smiled, showing his teeth, something that
rarely happened," Well, now you and your men have real Work to do...get
that bridge back together."
"Agh, Captain...that's almost done already," Scottie said, knowing
that the crews he had already assigned to do the job had already arrived
on the the bridge in their spiffy little 2370 a.d. space uniforms. "But
Ah think tha' it may be better to tell ye what Ah have got once Mr. La
Forge comes home."
"That sounds good. I'll be on the Battle Bridge...I mean in What
did call it?" Picard said, thinking that it was maybe best to let Scottie
think he did definitely know this ship class better than those history
buffs who studied such things, like Picard. (Too bad for Picard, Scottie
knew this ship better than the ship knew itself!)
Slowly, as if talking to an infant, Scottie joked with his newfound
friend and commanding officer," Aux...ili...ary....Con...trol".
Picard turned to leave, shaking his head and slightly laughing, even
though the state of the ship didn't exactly call for such humor. He
stopped and turned and said to Scottie," Where you always such a smart ass
with Jim Kirk?"
Scottie looked up, shocked by the question, then began to remember
his friend. A slight smile and then...
... " Aye."
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
The Romulan Fleet had taken out two of the cubes, before the
Federation was even asked, then pleaded to, then even co-ursed by self-
exiled Ambassador Spock on Romulus. The Romulan Star Empire had taken
quite a hit in the sore spot when they found that the Federation could
only spare so few ships. But, then the Federation had lost a good number
(thirty nine to be exact) of their war vessels against a single Borg ship.
Today, neither the Romulan or the Federation 'Empires' would stand to
lose near half that many ships against four times the power of a single
Cube, for they spare four Cubes, the unrelentless Borg.
Captain Jean-Luc Picard seemed to be wandering the ship, in fact lost
of the eighth level, one that was supposed to house the ships 'auxiliary
control room', the precursor to the Battle bridge. Finally, he found the
door, with no help from crew members rushing past, quickly trying to get
the bridge back to normal. But then, on these 'primative' twenty-third
century ships there were no computer consoles on the walls of the
corridors to show the way.
"Captain...the Romulans have lost one Warbird and two smaller attack
vessels in the last round of attacks." Worf said standing at a console,
almost completely hidden from the view of anyone who entered. A large,
red, metallic type fence blocked a direct route to the console Worf
seemed to be using. Hearing the door begin to slowly swoosh shut behind
him, Picard turned just in time to see two 'meds' take the now dead body
of a bridge crew member past.
"How long until we get another crack at them?" Picard said, closing
his eyes and thinking of the family of the young man who had died. A
single death was something that bother Picard far greater than the
thousands that were going to die in the next few hours. The single death
reminded him of a message he had recieved only a month before...on the
holodeck of the Enterprise-D, a message that would live with him to the
grave. And if he was anymore cynical now, he thought it may live with him
in the infinite space and time of the Q continum, knowing that Q would
never let his sole entertainment cease to exist.
"Two hours, ten minutes." Worf answered, he seemed to be
concentrating on the job he was preforming, keeping a close eye on all
Romulan communications.
Picard stepped up to a vacant station, the first inside the door,
but before he took the chance to seat himself, Captain Montgomery Scott
entered, via the same route as Picard. He seemed worried, almost
frightened, but then his face changed," Captain, Ah think ye better call
Mister La Forge an' have him come over here...Ah think Ah have a way ta
stop th' Borg." He left.
Jean-Luc didn't know what to think, Scott was behaving differently,
mad then happy, laid back then urgent, it just didn't make sense. And
where did he go, just stepping out like that, Picard thought. He turned
to look, strainingly through the think metal fence, at Worf, who seemed
to had taken over all operations.
"Already on his way, sir." Worf said, without having been given the
order. This was something Picard had found irritating in most situations,
but when it came to war and the such he felt that it freed his time to do
the important things. Like seeing what Scotty and Geordi where going to
do about the Borg.
**** **** **** ***
"You want to do what?!"
"Ye heard me...Ah tell ye, Geordi, it'll work." Mr. Scott said,
looking straight into what would/should have been La Forges' eyes, now
covered with the damned VISOR he insisted on never getting rid of.
"You can't just launch probes, or even shuttlecrafts, at Borg ships...
I've told you it just won't work. They won't get close enough, they won't
work fast enough, and the whole thing probably won't work at all."
Geordi said, more like complained, as he walked to the edge of the upper
level of the rarely used photon/subspace science lab. Geordi, not being
to familiar with these type of ships, had finally stopped complaining
about the damned handrails all over the place.
"Then we can beam 'em inta place." Scottie said, seated behind the
only twenty fourth century computer console in the entire labratory. The
room was immense compared to so many other rooms on the ship, only
dwarfed by the entire engineering room.
"Beaming, how can we beam probes into position over both of the very
minute magnetic poles of Borg Cubes, without getting blasted to hell when
we lower our shields? Answer that one." La Forge asked, getting a little
pensive, realizing that this was, in fact, the only decent idea had yet
to hear.
"The transporters on this ship could be modified to..." Scott began.
"This ship can't take the pounding and you know it,"
"But...Ah had hoped to use th Exeter transporters to beam the
probes more than halfway there, then get one of those damned Romulan
ships to cloak and beam them the rest of the way without being detected."
Scottie said, with the one problem he had feared showing itself in his
voice, not in the exact words.
"Halfway..."
"Aye, these transporters are twice as powerful than any that you
engineers have on ye ships taday." he said in rebuttle,"...just a little
tinkering."
"I don't know," La Forge said, rubbing his chin in the thoughtful
way he had learned from his engineering professors back at the Academy.
Then he thought a moment, really thinking, putting everything into it,
looked up, nodded, then slapped his combadge," La Forge to Picard."
The door behind his swooshed open, in walking Picard," Already
here, Mr. La Forge...what do you have for me."
"Not me, sir, Captain Scott..."
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
"Standard Orbital Approach," the helm officer of the Voyager said.
"Very good, scan for ships in the area and any signs of Borg or Jem'
Hadar ship on the planet surface." Captain Janeway ordered, she had
gotten the much needed nap while inroute to the world, the world where
they believed the remaining Borg threat had vanished to.
"Scans indicate a moderately industrial humanoid society on the mainland
of the this world. It is becoming difficult to scan the region, due to
the amazing amount of pollution they are producing in their 'factories'."
the first officer said from a position off to the side of the captain.
"We're not looking for them, Chakotay, try scanning for the
ionazation trail...it may have survived well into this earth like
atmosphere." Janeway said, a sly smile on her face.
"The sixth planet, the largest, is closing in on its' perihelion,
causing massive eruptions on the surface of the star beyond... the
solar wind is distorting the scans of the surface and atmosphere below
six hundred kilometers."
"Just find them."
**** **** **** ****
"Ship of an unidentifable shape is located in the southern most
region of the largest island off the main continent, east." Dax said,
amazed that they had been the first to pick up on the ships subspace
transmissions, apparently uncoded and of....Borg design.
"Contact the Voyager, explain to Captain Janeway what has been
found...then transmit coordinates to the Voyager and to our own
transporter room... apparently they crashed...and survived." Sisko said
drawing out the final word, leaving it to the rest to find whether they
feared the Borg, whether hurt and dying or better when they were alive
and well.
Sisko preferred them dead, as dead as they could possibly get.
Though still wondering, in the back of his mind, what had happened
to the agreement between the Borg and Jem'Hadar, and if the Jem'Hadar had
done this much destruction to the Borg, the Borg of all people (? where
they people, could we consider them alive?), then what could possibly
await them?
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
"Commander Tomalak, I promise you, there will be no damage caused
to your ship...we don't have the cloak, so to do this we need you, we
need you." Picard said, making it a plead. Small droplets of sweat formed
on his high forehead, no hair to stop them from rolling down into his eyes.
The 'Auxiliary control room was becoming quite stuffy, with loads of
officers that Picard had never seen rushing in and out, trying to tie all
controls from the bridge to the is medium sized, computer filled control
center. The bridge was supposed to be back on line in another two hours,
hopefully before then. But then, Picard thought, if I know Scott, he'll
have it ready in an hour or less, even with all his planning. One to
really count on...
"Captain Pee-card, you want us to fly into the middle of a battle,
cloaked, and beam these 'probes', as you call them, near the Borg
ships..." Tomalak said, looking as if he was going to laugh, as if he had
never heard of such a rediculous plan before in his life.
"If it will save the lives of so many...." Picard began, cut off,
not by his own will, but by the large, dark hand that Tomalak threw up
near the screen calling for silence.
"We will do it," Tomalak said, slowly allowing himself to lean back.
Picard smiled slightly, the persperation on his brow quickly beginning to
evaporate, relieved that it went so well. Tomalak," But, you must allow
us full access to the systems that will be controlling the probes."
Picard died. Well, not really, he just felt as if he had, as if his
heart had been punctured again, life fleeing him, running on a direct
course away from him," Why?" was all he could ask, quite the nonsensical
question.
"We want to know exactly what is going on, Pee-card, We want to know
how you plan on defeating the Borg." Tomalak answered, making his motives
all too clear, without adding part of the truth, he wanted to know
exactly how the probes of the Federation worked, how they stood up to his
own, how he could possibly find a way to defeat the border probes along
the Neutral Zone, probes just like this one.
And Picard knew it, but caved in," Fine, we'll contact you once the
probes are ready... Picard out." he said, giving his little nod to Worf
to cut the line, which he did. The screen went black.
"Captain Scott," Picard said to the air, forgetting that the
computers of the twenty third century didn't quite respond the way his
did, in the twenty fourth. He looked to Worf who said,"Try now,sir."
"Scott, here." the two words flooded the speakers, almost painfully.
It seemed some systems where just getting callibtrated for being rerouted
to the bridge.
"How are those probes coming along?" Picard asked, feeling a bit
relieved. Of course, he knew full well, that the job these probes where
to do was not going to destroy the Borg ships, but cut them off from one
another.
"Another minute...wait, one...Aye, sir, th' probes are ready."
Scottie exclaimed over the loudsystem. He wasn't quite the proud, Scott
who did wonders at his job, was he?
"Very good, Mr. Scott...one question though..Why are we beaming them
out there into space then letting the ROmulans beam them aboard? Why not
let them have the probes now?" Picard said, tilting his head upward,
where the speakers of his ship and all ships older than this one had
their speakers. This one didn't, though, he did it out of habit.
"We need to know if they're going to work, don't we?"
"I see your point." Picard said.
***** ***** **** *****
"Fleet moving into position," Worf said, looking through the thick
metal fencing that separated him from his commanding officer.
"Alert Captain Riker that a Romulan Warbird will be joining them in
one hour to deposit some help around the Borg." Picard said, standing as
he had been doing for the past nine hours, tiring quicker than he thought
possible.
"Aye".
**** **** **** **** ****
"Energizing transporters, now," Scott said, standing at the
controls to the main transporter unit. The Probes had been loaded onto
two transporter platforms and were being beamed directly where they
needed to be so to be checked.
"Transport complete" he said, a smile on his jolly, fat face.
"Probes are working perfectly," someone behind him said, standing
at a console that was rarely used by anyone including the transporter
chief, which ships of this one's day didn't have...they simply had the
'Chief Engineer'.
"Aye," he said, just for the sake of it," Aye."
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The Fleet moved off into the distance, somewhere out there, where
the Borg were waiting, where fate was closing in for the kill. The Borg
where still making their slow course through the system, killing
everything that stood in the way. Halfway between the command ships of
the FLeets and the infamous Borg vessels, there stood eight gerry rigged
solar probes, sending out some sort of buffetting subspace signal...on
all frequencies. They just stood there, not moving (relative to all
parties involved).
The Fleet moved in, the lead ship- the Enforcer, under sommand of
Captain William Thomas Riker- fired the first shot... a full spread of
photon torpedoes off the leading ship. They did little or no damage. The
Fleet of now fifteen ships, two almost out of commission, spread out,
spanning the invisible surface of a sphere that inclosed the four Borg
ships. They didn't seem to care.
The battle that would see the end of the war with Borg had begun,
just twelve hours before it would end. The various ships made their
moves, diving in close to the Borg, firing off all their phasers and
photon torpedoes, then speeding out, away from the action. This starategy
was tried by the Romulans and worked, only moderately, for the forst
attacks that they made against the Borg...successful in the way that only
thousands of lives where lost, instead of the hundreds of thousands that
could have been given away.
Some ships did what seemed, at least on the computer (Used to be on
paper!), to be quite impossible manuevers. The London was making a dead
run for the lead ship, the one that had been designated alpha, the others
following in an obvious order of greek letters. The London took a
parabolic course that let her slip under Alpha, firing her phasers and
torpedoes...but then she stopped. A dead stop, completely motionless, and
with that the Borg stopped firing, as if their sensors where saying the
ship was dead. Though it wasn't.
Captain Manik, commanding officer of the USS London, had decided on
a course of action that no other had dared. He cut the engines, allowing
the ship to drift, the magnetic fields of the Borg ship slowed the London
just enough the the front of the ship was now completely turned toward
the Borg vessel. He waited, the engines working (Overtime). Using the
main deflector dish, he fired an enormous resonance burst at the Borg
ship, simulating an Antimatter explosion when it came in contact with the
enemy ship.
The London powered up in less than the millisecond that the
computer said was necessary, full reverse, and the ship spend away from
the blasted Borg ship...with the help of Newtons Third Law. He used a
strategy that was taught to every student of command ability at the
Academy, something that the 'Chief Engineer' of the command ship had once
tried. Amazing...
The London sped free of the battle scene, having caused the largest
explosion yet (At least since the Federation had arrived). The Borg ship
had a semi-spherical hole the size of a nice sized asteroid blown out of
the bottom side. The Borg ship retreated, moving into the safest spot, in
the back. The already damaged rear ship took the front position, not
letting its' weaponds hestitate to fire as it did so. The now, rear ship
was missing close to forty-five percent of its' original mass. A manuever
and idea that would ultimately, in the years to come, allow Captain Manik
to become Admiral Manik...but that would be years, and years ahead.
The manuever worked once. But the chance to pull the same manuever
again would never come, the Borg adapted to well. And most Captains and
even every ensign knew that.
Except for one...one captain made the naive mistake, a mistake he
would live just long enough through to regret.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Sisko was pasing the length of the Defiant bridge, he hadn't thought
of the situation that he had been placed in as "command'. But it seemed
Captain Janeway had done that very thing, not wanting Sisko or anyone in
command of any vessel to beam to the surface near the wreckage of the
Borg ship. Instead of disobeying her orders he opted to send Lt. Jadzia
Dax and Security Chief Odo to the planets surface...along with over fifty
other personel from the six other starships.
Sisko couldn't contain himself, he felt that he belonged down there,
he felt he deserved the right to see the Borg squirm in the last minutes
of their lives. Sisko felt he deserved to be the destroyer of the race
that took away the only woman he had ever loved, the woman that had given
him his only son, Jake. But, how. How could the Borg had revived these
thoughts, Sisko thought remembering his first (and only) encounter with
the aliens of the wormhole, I defeated the Borg, I let go of Jennifer...
Damn!
"...jamming all subspace frequencies that the Borg are known to have
signalled on..." Kira was saying from the science console off to Sisko's
left. Janeway had, wisely, decided to jam all Borg transmissions...they
didn't want them calling their friends, did they?
"Very good," Sisko uttered, not thinking really of the things going
on around him. He was lost in the thoughts of the bloodest battle the
Federation had ever fought...Wolf 359...then they were gone. The thoughts
of Jennifer, the thoughts of that system, the thoughts of Lecutis of
Borg, the thoughts of revenge: they all dissapeared from his mind, as
quickly as they had formed. Sisko was back...
He took his seat, center, higher by a step, crossed his legs right
over left, folded his arms of his chest. He tilted his head to the right,
rather than turn his head the opposite way," What's going on down there?"
he asked. The question came from nowhere, Kira was shocked he had even
said anything, knowing what he was thinking, the same thing she would
have been thinking if she had been in his place. Was he speaking to me...
***** **** **** *****
Dax had been the first to fully materalize on the planet
surface...Odo taking, for some unknown reason, longer to appear. The
teams from the other six ships took longer, though no more than two minutes
had pasted from first arrival to last. But time seemed to stop once one
stepped on the soil of this new, never touched land, on this planet that
was as beautiful as any scene from earth in the nineteenth century. For
lain out before them was the remains of a Borg Cube, sprayed out for
miles, almost from horizon to horizon. From what she had heard, it seems
that this Borg ship didn't stand up to atmospheric pressures and
emergency landings quite as well as the now downed Enterprise-D.
Much of the Cube, however, remained intact. Looking like a large
pile of metalic waste...resembling a late twentieth century trash heap...five
hundred meters high! The Cube was a small mountain, taking up much of the
scenery directly ahead, yet more than a kilometer away from the current
position of the teams (who really had no purpose, but to look everything
over).
"Dax to Sisko and Janeway," She said, stepping closer and closer to
what may hold nothing for her but death. Dax was not in the least bit
apprehentious about this, though Odo couldn't help but seem a bit too
cautionary.
"Captain Janeway here...Go ahead Lt." The voice from nowhere replied,
sounding a wee bit nervious, a wee bit tired, and a wee bit angry.
Placing most emphasis on her rank, and the rank of Dax, trying to not let
her forget it.
"If I wasn't holding the tricorder I wouldn't believe it myself,
Captain," Dax said stunned, showing the readout to Odo, who stood just
over her shoulder. It was apparent from the actions of the other small
groups of StarFleet officers that they were all coming to the same
conclusion at the same time. She paused, letting the captain listen even
more carefully to what she was about to say. Then," Captain Janeway, I'm...
we're only picking up trace reading of Borg disruptors only... no Jem'Hadar
ionazation signature is present in any of the surrounding debris or in
the atmosphere..."
"I see..." she said, sounding just as astonished as Dax had believed
she would," well then," and the signal died, mid-sentence...nothing but
static.
Dax looked up, as did everyone else who was in contact with the
ship, they looked around at each other. It was Odo who spoke as the
groups started to huddle and converge on a single position, near Dax and
Odo, the first two who had arrived on this paradise. Odo mumbled to
her," They must be under attack, frequencies being jammed." People
started looking to the sky, watching for flashes of phaser fire miles
over head...they saw none. Odo repeated," They must be under attack..."
Someone in the middle of the fifty person group shouted," No they're
not...we are!", everyone looking to the wreckage. Pointing fingers flew
up as they noticed nine Jem'Hadar warships decloak, landed on the ground.
Before another word was spoken, half the team had dissappeared...obviously
beamed somewhere.
Two of the ships took off, firing their disruptors up to the
heavens, firing at the starships in orbit. Then Dax suddenly felt sick,
and realized it was the transporter effect...the sickening feeling was
the standard effect the transporter had on Trills. She opened her eyes,
only to see Jem'Hadar soldiers pointing large disruptor rifles at
them...motioning Odo and Dax and the other twenty or so hostages through
a specific door. They did the only thing they could do, dropped their
weapons as they were told...and followed the Jem'Hadar orders.
***** **** **** *****
"We got half of 'em!" Chief O'Brien said, standing out of eyes'
shot. "Most of the crew were beamed up by their own ships...but we only
got half... the rest should be on the way."
"Somethings happening on the surface, sir!" the ensign at the helm
shouted, the noice on the bridge was becoming deafening. She spun around
to look at Sisko, who was now standing before the great chair," Ships on
the surface decloaking!!"
"Who...wha...how?!" Sisko muttered, trying to figure out what was
happening. The moment communications went down, he (along with Janeway)
had made the decision to beam their people out of there...only a moment
to late.
"We can't lock on..." O'Brien was saying," Trying...sir....trying...no
..can't get them...somekind of damned dampening field...damn...It's the
Jem'Hadar, sir!"
"What the hell's happening down there?!"
"Two ships firing,sir" the ensign at the helm said, letting her
fingers do the flying over the controls. Then she said the worse thing
SIsko could have been possibly asked," Raise shields, sir?"
He sat down, the disruptors blazing past them. Near hits.
"Raise shields, Ensign."
The two ships that fired had parted the Task Force with their wild
fire, separating the ships like the Red Sea. The ships fired as the
pasted, low powered disruptors, not doing much harm...only making a path
for the seven that followed.
As the ships pasted,"What's their..."
"The course of the enemy ships is bearing two two nine mark one
seven..." Kira said from the science station.
"Plot parellel course and engage at same warp as them," Sisko
said, knowing that fighting the Jem'Hadar would be a losing battle, not
just for them..but for Odo and Dax. Then there was the problem of where
exactly they were heading, until he looked at viewscreen to see a red and
brown haze slowly take shape in the distance. One thing came to Ben
Sisko's mind...
...the Founders...
...but why?
***** **** *****
Dax and Odo found themselves in a small dark room, with only two
other personnel; thought they knew neither. Apparently the Jem'Hadar had
been told to watch for a traitor, a Founder traitor...Odo. Even through
that order, they found themselves compelled to put him and his friend in
the best empty compartment they had. The Jem'Hadar (and the Founders) had
found out that it was a tiny bit harder to follow orders, especially when
your genetic programming says the opposite. Once again, DNA would play a
part in the way they acted, just as it always had.
"What's going on...where are they taking us?" the one unknown
officer asked, looking through the moisture rich, heavy air that made
breathing and seeing even harder in the poorly lit room.
"No one put up a fight, they don't care what happens...so long as
they get away...it's all that Captain Janeway's fault..." the other
unknown said, obviously showing his feelings for the commander of a ship
he didn't serve on.
"If the Defiant or any ships fired on the Jem'Hadar, we'd all be
killed with them...you don't know the power of these ships," Dax said,
taking a seat next to Odo on the soot covered, dingy floor.
Odo looked around, sudden, jerky movement, as if trying to get
away from something, yet listening to see if was still there. He looked
at Dax, fear hidden in those pseudo-optics," They're taking us there" he
said. When both unknown officers asked where, he pointed franticly to the
corner ceiling of the room," ...to the founders..."
Through a vent in the wall of the room, a hissing appeared, they
all looked around to each other....gas! The room quickly filled with a
clear, odorless gas. As the two unknown officers slumped over, and as Dax
begin to close her eyes, something she just couldn't help. Try to stay
awake, she thought, fight it, fight it!
She couldn't. From the corner of her eye, she saw, for the first
time, Odo begin to melt, to transform into his original, jelatonous state
of being. My god, she thought, the gas is knocking us out...and... (The
words that formed the thoughts were coming to her slower and slower.)...
doing the same to...Odo...he must...have...to ...change back to...his
origin...al...form to slee.......
CHAPTER THIRTY
"Romulan ship moving away from their fleet, now cloaking," Worf
said, looking through the red fencing, the lighting shadowing most of his
already heavily browed face.
Picard was seated, now tiring from the operations that they moving
through. His shift had another full eleven hours, making his string of
hellish waking days almost two full. His face was also shadowed, not by
lighting, rather the stubble that professed his manhood had taken the
last two days of waken activity to sprout anew. He finally acknowledged
Worf after a moment of trying to assimilate the words he had heard. Damn,
he thought, everything is speeding up, while I'm slowing down...this
can't keep up.
A whistle sounded,"Crusher to Picard", a voice he hadn't heard
since the beginning of the mission. Thankful that it was atleast there,
though fearing what she was definitely about to say...
"Go ahead, Doctor" Picard answered trying to keep his normal,
bridge tone, though there wasn't anything normal about the
situation...and they still weren't on the bridge. He wasn't fooling
himself, then he wasn't fooling anyone else.
"Orders from StarFleet Medical...go to bed, Captain," She said,
teh voice filling the room, as if spoken from the heavens.
"Doctor, this is the most important part of this mission" he said.
"You have ten minutes...then it's in my hands...understand?" she
asked, leaving it to him to decide.
"Understood, Doctor," he said, cutting the line to Sickbay. He
looked around at the bunch working around him, then he opened another
line," Counselor Troi to 'Auxiliary Control" he said, knowing full well
that Deanna was sitting on a biobed in Sickbay, having tattled to Beverly
on how bad a little boy he was.
"The probes have dissappeared, Captain" Worf was saying when he
came around, having been in very well known place called LaLaLand, the
place where people go when they are all in their head...paying no
attention to outside stimulous.
"Very good," he said, wondering what had happened to the probes,
then almost kicking himself for not realizing that the Romulan ship had
begun beaming them to their respective positions over and under the four
mighty Borg Ships. Then from nowhere a voice came into his, no not his
head, his ear...he was beginning to lose it, he needed sleep. But the
voice was familiar in someway, yes, it's Scottie.
It was Scottie who was supposed to be telling him,"The bridge has
been completely repaired, sir. We need only ta repressurize...then ye get
ye chair back..."
**** **** **** ****
The mighty ship slipped past the phased energy bursted that were
going off around it, off to starboard, off to port, the ship turned,
glided past them. This ship, an Excelsior class starship, dived and rose,
moving out of harms way. The ship's shields taking less of a brutal
pounding than most others'. Her crew were experienced, they knew what
they were doing, but one thing was held against them...none them, not
even the vessels captain, had fought against the Borg in the past.
The Cairo spun around the rear ship, making loops around the
indented, cratered cube, as if tying a great invisible shoe lace, or
winding it's grandmothers cotton yarn in a large ball around the ship.
The phasers making contact, shifting frequency so to do the greatest
damage. The torpedoes moving off as slow as any had, hitting their
targets with precision never seen before...but then, most targets rarely
were so loarge and willing to say virtual so still.
As the starship came around, over the side of the Borg ship that
had been designated the top of the ship, the engines were cut...the ship
fired its slow retrotrusters to easy them into virtual motionlessness. As
before, with another ship, the strong magnetic fields of the north of the
Borg ship were pulling greatly on the south poled end of the Cairo.
The front, the saucer, for somereason tended to have a slightly
negitive magnetic charge, with opposites attraching, the saucer bent the
ship toward the Borg vessel. Captain Jellico knew that if this worked
again on the Borg, a clean whole the size of a nice asteroid would let
them look straight through the center of the cubic ship.
The main deflector energized, almost full...then a burst of phased
energy shot from the Borg ship, seemingly from nowhere. The beam of light
that showed the course of the burst was aimed at, and hit the main
deflector dish of the Cairo, sending it out of its' fifteen years
orbitable cycle around the borg ship. The entire engineering hull almost
collapsed instantly. The ship was dead, only functioning by the will of
those still alive.
From the bridge of the ENforcer, the great lead attack ship
ironically from the Ambassador class of vessels, the show of fire power
was magnificant. Nothing like it had every before been seen coming from a
Borg ship. The explosion of the impact dimmed the viewer as the light
sensitive equipment came on line. Will Riker was stunned, calling for an
immediate fall back, to regroup. All ships listened, except for the one
barely alive.
**** **** ****
The computer was the only voice heard under the moans of the
tortured bodies of seven hundred people. "Fifteen seconds to total loss
of warp coil containment field"...fifteen seconds to death.
Captain Jellico knew what he had to do, even from his position on
the deck of the ship with a fractured leg and massive internal bleeding,
his own lungs either collapsed or filling with fluid. He reached to the
green control on the center seats armrest, once pressed a subspace signal
was opened. He whispered as loud as he could without causing anymore
unbarable pain,"Cairo...Picard kill them all, kill these bloody
bastards...kill them so I can destroy them when I might them in hell..."
He released the green control, moving his hand to the red one, the one
that he had hoped never to use.
Before the mission had started, he had requested circuits to be set
to his command, for one decision only. In case of a warp core breach,
coolant leak, or drop of containment fields...the ship could make a
single, warp jump lasting less than a trillionth of a second...the power
he had.
His hand reached up, qwivering with fear and pain, knowing that
there was no other choice. The computer announced,"Five...four...three..."
he presseed teh control, the little, glowing red touchpad. He released it.
The ship leaped at them, the Borg had never had a chance...
**** **** ****
The Cairo moved to warp, a trillionth of a second later the mighty
starship slammed into the side of the Borg rear vessel, nothing they
could do to move...all for the better.
An instant after the mighty explosion upon inpact the
antimatter/matter containment was obliterated along with every piece of
material in the area...
The Cairo existed no longer...
Nor did the rear ship in the Borg formation.
**** **** ****
"Level Three shockwave," Worf said, flying over the controls,
knowing that this wave was going to cause quite a little bit of
havoc out here. They were still in Auxiliary Control.
Picard was just leaving, having seen the Cairo dissappear,
having had enough death for the day. Troi stood above the seat, he
had been slumping in, knowing that Picard wouldn't leave if the
shockwave was that large.
"Shields," he said...then exitting the room. Leaving Troi in
command, as if he didn't care. Which he didn't, after a certain
point, death isn't death anylonger, it's a game, a joke, something
no longer worth paying attention to. Death was the evil hayfever he
had as a child, after a few days of headache, it seemed not to
bother him anylonger, though he knew fool well it was there.
Moments later the ship rocked, a slight little roll, like
riding over the beautiful, rolling waves on a breezy day at sea. In
closer, the damage was greater, but only to tehir ships, but the
Borg as well. All ships had suffered, and to everyones dismay,
except that of the Borg... it was going to continue. The suffering
and death that is.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Kill them so I can destroy them when I meet them in hell, Picard
thought, lying still in his bed, the bed of the captain of a Task Force
who stood little chance of success against the Borg forces, until the
moments that took the lives of hundreds of people just an hour ago. Three
left, three...how.
He had left the command to of the fleet to someone who had not seem
command action before...ever. But he trusted in Troi, and Worf, who had a
high endurance for time without sleep, and in Barclay, who had to join
Troi, he knew they were in fair hands. Not good hands, not the hands of
people who had done this before...but then, who had done this before?
Sleep, sleep, sleep, he tried to will himself to sleep, he tried to
keep the upsetting, depressing thoughts of death out of his mind. For
them, there would be plenty of time later, for the deaths of the people
he didn't know, for the deaths of those he did (like Ed Jellico, though
they weren't exactly friends), for those who had died before...for his
family, those he had yet to fully grieve for...but then, he thought, as
he usually did, what is enough? how am I to know? Damn.
He finally fell to sleep, the ship slowly rocking, obsorbing the
shock of the destroyed Borg ship, with tears welling in the creasing of
this eyelids, Picard, Jean-Luc Picard finally dozed off, out there where
no one could die (at least for real) in the realm of dreams.
**** **** **** ****
Worf had held his position, saying as long as he could hold out,
which for the powerful Klingon would be another forty eight hours, or so.
He had been standing for the past three days, straight, with only fifteen
minute breaks every four or five hours, leaving the other important
people to other jobs. His replacement, Reg Barkley, had been down in
engineering, helping Captain Scott, who it had seemed had taken a liking
to the otherwise friendless Barkley.
Though he knew he could last, his favorite human now being his
boss, he didn't want to bother Troi with such things as getting someone
to take his place as he did other things during what should have been
brakes. So he stayed at his post, not taking a break when she was on
duty, and for that he would be, though not many knew it or thought it
believable, close to physical exhaustion. "The Romulan ship has
transported the six probes into position above the Borg ships..." he
said, looking through the fencing, his voice a tiny bit more hoarse than
usual.
"Very good," Troi said, keeping a weary eye on him, trying to see if
he was still at top proformance, if not then Barkley could do the job,
letting him sleep, and recuperate. "Captain Scott, your problems are
ready to be turned on," she said, looking into the metallic grating of
the two-way speaker that was amazingly outdated, even for a hundred years.
There was a small break in the noise, things got quiet, very quiet,
almost as silent as the space, the vaccuum outside the ship. Then
Scotties boomed over the speaker," Aye, commander. Ye send a message ta
the Enforcer, tell Captain Riker ta pullback, they canna get caught in
the surge that the probes'll put out when Ah turn 'dem on..."
She sat in the only available chair, she face half hidden by her
long brown hair. All the better, she wouldn't want anyone to see the
smile she had on her face, the smile she got everytime she listened to
Scottie speak...there was just something about his voice, something about
the accent that made him seem to everyone like he should be their
grandfather, the wise old man.
"Sending," Worf said from his position, his voice getting a little
more out of sink, a little more hoarse, a little more dry and exhaustive
like. He looked through the screen, nodding to Troi, his new found 'love'
interest. THen he mouthed, rather than speak and give her ample example
of his fatigue, enough to send him to his room," Ready..."
"Captain Scott," She said, flinging the hair from her eyes,"You
can turn on the light show.".
"Aye..."
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
They really had no idea what was going to happen to the Borg when
the probes started to transmit, or do whatever the secretive Scottie and
Geordi had done to them. We can't leave out the help that Barkley pitched
in, helping when he should have been sleeping. But then he didn't have
much of a job when he was on duty, seeing that Worf didn't want to go off
duty to give him the chance.
The probes were going to rest in positions that had been
calculated to have been directly above the magnetic poles of each
ship. Like most ships, all ships made of metal, the Borg had a
considerable magnetic field, especially since they were the best at
warp technology, which relied heavily on strong magnetic fields. The
Borg had unusually strong magnetic field lines that jsut seemed to be
caused by the unregulating of their warp drive, however they seemed
to be without the matter/antimatter system, it seemed logical to
believe that the magnetic fields came from the center of the ship.
Knowing that sensors had the hardest time penetrating the the
positions above the magnetic poles of large objects, they had
discovered that the Borg had the same problem...just as bad as a
small moon, or planet...esentially a Borg ship is large bar magnet.
Placing the probes in position at the poles, keeps the Borg
from finding them, though they would surely feel the power that the
hidden probes could give...
The switch was throne, and the probes began resonate at
frequencies that seemed to be abnormally high, and just as abnormally
low on the subspace band, frequencies that the Federation had found
decades before that seemed to link to, or have a specific baring on
what happens in the physical world of...electromagnetic fields
(radiation).
What is that horrible corrilation between the fields of the
electromagnetic world, and that of the subspace realm? Scottie knew,
he had done the original work on the subject. It seemed that if he
could link specific frequencies of subspace to specific magnetic field
lines of the Borg ship, then the the subspace messages (or whatever
was traveling in subspace) would propogate across the magnetic field
lines. Then what? What ever happened to be traveling across that magnetic
line would have to return to a space (inthe physical world) where it had
originated, where the magnetic field line originated.
Once specific frequecies where linked, messages sent on other close
frequencies would link to corresponding magnetic lines, thus making
messages on other, close, frequencies do the same to other magnetic lines.
In essence, no matter what frequency was being used, the message could
never escape the stronger magnetic fields of the ship or object it came
from.
So what would this do to the Borg? It cut each ship off from the
others, cutting the link that made them a true collective, making
fighting in the close quarters of this confined star system even more
hazardous from the humogous cube shaped war ships. The theory of Captain
Montgomery Scott would eventually go on to be one of the greatest
breakthroughs of the late twenty fourth century...and he wasn't done yet.
The idea behind the plan also had unexpected reprecusions on this
battle itself, making the odds of the Federation/Romulan Task FOrces even
better than ever. Of course, Capt. Ed Jellico wouldn't know that, but
then...there were definitely some other Borg who would be joining him in
hell on this day.
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
The amount of time that pasted was not known to any of the dozens of
hostages of the Jem'Hadar, particulary the three who sat groggy in a cell
with a now semi-jelatinous Odo. Dax glanced down, then quickly turned
away, not wanting to offend Odo, knowing how personally embarrassing this
must be to him. So she sat there wondering what the gas had done to him,
how it had taken to knocking them out, and turning him into...into a
pile, a puddle of goo.
She slumped against the wall, soot and dust rubbing onto her
uniform. Jadzia thought for a moment then looked to the ceiling, as if
someone shy had been undressing in front of her, and she spoke," It
appears that whatever that gas was, it bonded to your outer
pseudo-epidermis and caused it to break down...I'm sorry Odo," she said
thinking of continuing with her apology for giving a reason why this
happened. It really didn't matter how, but why they had done this to them.
Light filtered through a newly opened slit in the door to the cell,
though it seemed to Dax that this was not exactly a cell, but a room for
some type of storage...what kind she didn't know. The light flickered,
she looked up, her eyes caught in the involentary reflex of squinting to
adjust. Through the slit, a moment later, she could make out the eyes,
those reptylian eyes, of a Jem'Hadar, one of those who escorted her and
the others here. He peared in, obviously having better night vision that
the Trill or humans who occupied the small space.
"You are to stand..." he said, a little funny voice that sounded
almost out of place. Beside her, Odo had returned to a fully humanoid
form, the gas having finally worn off. He nudged Dax, urging her and the
rest to stand.
They did as they were told. Obvious to Dax, and hopefully to all,
they weren't going to be killed, who would bring this far after putting
them to sleep for so long...how long was it? She didn't know. Jadzia,
though a little worried, perhaps nervious, knew that they were safe, no
harm coming to them. The door opened, the light from the corridor filling
the tiny room. Her eyes ached, feeling something she hadn't known for
years...a headache set in.
***** ***** ***** ****
"Slow to impulse for planetary orbit," Sisko said, seated where had
been for the pst thirteen hours, the entire duration of the trek from the
Borg ship to this planet, a planet with no particular sun, a planet
floating through a nebula hundreds of light years from the wormhole.
The ship slowed, he felt it in the soles of his boots. The other six
ships were in a pattern behind the Defiant. Something Sisko thought about
every second his mind wasn't on what could be happening to his people on
the Jem'Hadar ships. Fifteen minutes later the mighty warship took a low,
elliptical orbit that would bring it as close to the atmosphere as
possible without incurring damage to the ship.
"Scans of the surface show little has changed here in the last few
months, Commander...Captain," Kira said, having taken Dax's place at the
Science console off to the left of the center seat.
"Where'd those ships go?" he asked, only Dax and Odo on his mind,
getting them back and getting the hell out of here. Sisko had been
worried, not just for Dax and Odo, but for the fact that if Dukat had not
been so willing to take up positions near the alpha mouth of the
wormhole, this could have been a very deadly trap. Pull the fleet out of
position by faking the destruction of the Borg, then fly through and take
what you want...a plan that couldn't fail. Of course, and Sisko didn't
know this, that was not the plan. The plan had been changed, and that was
the reason the hostages were taken...they needed (the founders, that is)
, needed someone to explain that to. And who better than the
investigators of the destruction of the last of the Borg.
"Right where we thought they'd be...life signs are normal," she
said. Looking over the controls, then turning to Sisko," The Jem'Hadar
are hailing us, sir...they're leaving the surface." On the screen a dozen
of the Jem'Hadar ships sped toward them from the surface of the planet.
Hailing us..., Sisko thought. Now, what the hell is going on here.
"On screen,".
**** *** **** ***
"Your ships will drop their shields, your ships will power down
their weapons, your ships will be saved destruction only if you do these
simple tasks." The Jem'Hadar said from the screen in the front of the
bridge of the Defiant. He seemed the most intelligent of all the
Jem'Hadar he had ever come in contact with.
"Why?," She asked, never actually seeing a Jem'Hadar before, but
then Captain Janeway had never seen a live Borg before either. Sisko had
had reservations of letting her beam over, though left the decision to
her alone. The Jemmy's as he was becoming fond of calling them, had
wanted to speak only to those who were on what they believed to be the
command ship- the Defiant.
The Jem'Hadar sat quiet, not saying a word, just as he had for the
half dozen other questions she had asked, and again Sisko asked for
her,"Why?"
And to him, the Jemmy answered," Once the talk is over on the
surface, your men will be returned...so you may leave before we destroy
you." the screen went blank, then returned to s picture of the planet and
stars beyond.
Janeway looked to Sisko,"What about the women? Only returning our
Men? What..."
Sisko stood, looked down at her and smiled,"Captain Janeway, they
meant they were going to return them all, they just said men to make it
easier...now, what do we do?"
She looked at him, grinned, then frowned,"Lower shields, power
down weapons and beam me back to my ship..."
***** *** *****
"What are we doing here?" Odo said, looking around at the dozends of
Jem'Hadar soulders that surrounded them, it seemed as if they were
standing in a sea of aliens, aliens that would sooner kill you than look
at you. Looking over the heads of the souldiers, Odo noticed a slow
parting of the crowd ahead of them...someone was making their way through
the ocean of aliens.
"It seems we're about to find out," one of the two unknown officers
said, standing directly behind the humanoid Odo. The other guard was
standing next to his shipmate, sniffing the sleeve of his uniform,
evidently the gas had saturated their clothing and was still lingering
about...at least it wasn't enough to cause any effect on them, or Odo.
But most likely enough to be analized when they got back to the ships
they were from, if they got back to the ships they were from.
The Jem'Hadar in front of them moved out of the way, letting them
see past. The soldiers moved and knelt, facing the ground, being the good
little genetically engineered soldiers they were supposed to be.
Approaching them, a female, a female that seemed familiar. She
walked up to them, looked them over then to Dax," I never expected that
you would know of our plan to conquer the alpha quadrant,".
Dax looked at her, fire gleaming in her eyes,"From what we heard,
you were going to let the Borg conquer the rest of the galaxy, so long as
they left your worlds alone." Spite and anger filling her voice, she
didn't like battle, but she liked being kidnapped even less.
The woman, or what was her interpretation of a human woman, looked
stunned, evidently surprised by the fact they knew so much. She looked to
Odo,"You know as well..." as if he wouldn't help defeat the Borg because
his own kind were the ones behind the supposed invasion of the Alpha
Quadrant.
He just nodded,"I know everything that Starfleet knows about you
and your plans," he said.
"Well, plans change...and our's did." She said, the Jem'Hadar who
were standing around earlier, still on the knees. Oh the glory of
oppression, the power of being in control...
"That's why you brought us here," the guard said behind Dax, now
leaving the gas and his sleeve alone.
"Correct, we want to explain it to you, then let you leave...this
is the last time. We threatened you before, but this time is special, we
give the chance to leave...later...only because you impress us with your
amount of information," She said, looking from one to the other. Then she
said what those at Starfleet would fear more than the Borg,"But the
impression stops there...we've got your spy, well, we did...he's dead
now...so sorry."
So sorry, so sorry, so sorry...the words rang in Dax's ears the the
door buzzer to her cabin on DS9, when someone stood there ringing over
and over...for the first time in her life, she wanted to kill someone,
solely for the sport of it...this creature had infuriated her to that
point, one she would regret in the days to come...not because she took
action on the impulse, but because she didn't...
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
"Switching the probes status ta active," Scottie said, his voice
filling the bridge. The entire operation was finally back where it was
supposed to be, on the bridge. Scottie had been seated at the engineering
station for the past twenty minutes, waiting for the right moment,
wanting everything to be prefect. The fleet had withdrawn to what he
thought was too safe a distance, but that didn't matter. From his
position on the bridge, he had a direct link, not only to the staus of
the probes, but also to the engineering room of the Enforcer, so to be
anle to communicate to Geordi La Forge any previously unforseen problems.
On screen, the three Borg cubes where slowly drifting back into a
recognizable pattern, though they had begun to slowly speed up, heading
out of the system, perhaps now fearful of that they were facing. But then
again, or even most likely not. Remember these are Borg, they don't have
emotion, they're just chips and neurons, no emotions, no fear.
"Overlay visual with subspace field recognition chart," He ordered,
the young man who know helmed the once mighty vessel give a little
sqweeky "Aye,sir" and changed the entire look of the screen with field
lines highlighted in blue and red, depending on their intensity.
On screen now, the Borg ships where nothing bot tiny square dots, with so
many subspace lines extending in the highest intensity color of red, the
ships where zoomed out, letting room enough to show as many as possible.
The Ships where surrounded, literaly, with red and yellow hallows of
lines that made circles around each. One intriguing thing stood out, many
blue, the weakest intensity, lines where extending beyond the system,
beyond the sensor range of the ships...meaning only one thing. THis is
far more a collective that previously thought, everything done here was
being transmitting back to where ever the Borg come from, a place some
where unknown in the deepest recesses of the Delta Quadrant.
***** **** ****
"Data, get a reading on where those signals are going...pinpoint the
exact location," Riker was ready, now they were gathering not only info
on these Borg ships, but possibly on the homeworld of the Borg! He
continued,"This is our best chance at finding where they're from..."
Data sat at the Ops. console worried, something he had not known he
could feel until the month before, worried of what the destruction of
these Borg ships could mean to the Romulans, and to the Federation. It
was possible that they were sending for reinforcements, as funny as that
may sound. It was also possible that they were relaying vital information
to the next wave of, though they have no feeling, vengeful Borg ships,
willing to annlihate, rather than assimilate. Wow, Data thought, I'm
scared of something that's most likely never going to happen...this is
anxiety!
He brought himself to listen and do as he was told, holding and
trying to savor the feeling (mostly for later analysis)," Aye, sir."
**** **** **** ****
"Probes now active," Scottie said, keeping an eye on each panel on
his console, just to be sure each probe worked as it was supposed to.
Luckily for Captain Montgomery Scott, they each worked as he had
expected...just another miracle from the great "Miracle Worker" himself.
His other eye was intent on watching what happened on the main
viewscreen, to see if they did what they were supposed to. Working right,
and powering up right were two separate things, very separate things,
considering that what these probes where supposed to do, was not thought
of until the day before.
On screen, the blue lines that left each Borg ship, slowly curved,
heading in other directions, slowly bending back in upon the ship from
which that particu;ar line originated from. The lines seemed to entend
from one side of the ship, made a small curving loop outside, then
heading back in on the opposite side of the ship. "Aye, just like the
damned magnetic field lines, Geordi." he said, glaring at the screen,
speaking low into the communications array, the little button and grill
work of the century before, on his own console.
From the same grill and button, though this definitely came from the
grill, was the reply of La Forge,"Mr. Scott, I don't know how...whoa!!!"
..and everything died.
Well not exactly, it would later be estimated that the lost of
lives came to six million...six million Borg that is.
**** **** *** ***
The lines where going nowhere, and they couldn't figure it out.
The sensors that the mighty ship had didn't detect anything, they knew of
no technologies that could do this to them. They changed frequencies,
postulating that the umassimilated had jammed certain frequencies...
knowing from the great memory banks that all frequencies could never be
blocked, for there were an infinite number of them.
Alone, so alone, no one else, to be alone, so alone....
Then the messages returned, they were once again in touch with the
collective, not the entire collective but one ship. Then after
milliseconds of Borg to Borg signal recognition tries, they found that
the ship they were in contact with was in fact their own ship. The
signals built up, taking memory and storage from each of them, they
needed to store the messages, though they were their own. The Borg saved
everything, and though the transmissions were their own, and far less
than all those they were recieving seconds before, they built rapidly as
frequency upon frequincy turned inward upon their own vessel.
The feedback of the their own transmissions built until it was far
too much to hold, but they knew no other way. Every bit of data was to be
saved, so to understand and be able to assimilate those who created the
data to begin with. This broke the Borg, what happened next killed them.
The feedback was being stored, the messages were already being
anylized, so to assimilate the makers of the messages. They knew no other
way, there was no subroutine, no subprogram, no nothing, that told them
that an unknown transmission may be their own. They began to plan to
assimilate the makers of the messages, but found that they were they,
they had to assimilate themselves. They had assimilate the assimilated.
This created a paradox that shut the entire ship down, they knew no other
way to deal with the problem than to shut all other systems down. Once
they did so, the 'warp core', or the secretive drive of the Borg
collapsed...destroying the mighty ship and it's six point four million
inhabitants.
The other two ships came to differnet conclusions, not taking the
same route as this doomed ship. They survived what was intended to not be
a weapon, but a helper in destroying their kind in the old fashioned way
of sending in the powerful to hammer away, hammer away, hoping to kill
them. No not kill, to terminate them. Shut them down. Two ships, two of
four, two of six, had survived, rocked by the explosion fo their sister
ship. No Borg would mourn the lost, they could not, they had no feelings,
no emotions to speak of. All the better, so they couldn't feel the pain.
**** *** ****
"Auck! Well, didya see tha'," Scottie said, laying the excitement in
the accent pretty thick. "Never expected tha' ta happen" He stood proud
of his work, amazed at the outcome..one less Borg cube to deal with.
"Captain Scott, you did it...you've given us the chance we needed,"
Geordi was yelling over the hoopla pouring out of engineering on the
Enforcer, the excitement was barely containable.
"Now, ye get your asses back in there and finish 'em off," Scott
said, leaning over his console, knowing that the level three shockwave of
the explosion of a Borg ship was on it's way. What he was really doing
was checking the positions of the probes that remained...and thanks to
the wells in th magnetic fields of the Borg ships, the probes avoided
being shifted out of position by the partners of the now dead
warship...assimilation ship.
***** *** *****
The shockwave shock the ship, rocking Picard from his sleep, his
shallow sleep, one he forced on himself. Thankfully awoken to cheering in
the corridor, realizing either the Borg were destroyed, or running away.
He slipped his one-piece back on and leapt from his bed. Time to get back
where I belong, he thought, on the bridge.
Off in the distance, on not measured in kilometers, but in light
minutes, fourteen Federation ships moved in for what was hopefully the
final kill. The Borg were without communications with one another,
placing better odds on the bet. Though it was far from a sure thing,
Picard knew he and his friends, were going home soon. Going home to say
they had defeated the Borg for hopefully the last time, going home to
mourn the loss of the lives of the crews of three ships, going home to
mourn the loss of his own family.
Three ships, my god, he thought, three ships.
We just have to make sure, he thought on his way up the shaft, we
just have to make sure that it says at three...and only three.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
"The Borg ships are moving off, heading away from the heart of
Romulan space," Data said, smiling, an evil smile that gave away the new
found feelings, feelings of despise, of hatred for the Borg. He knew what
they had done, knew what they were going to do, knew what they wanted to
do. Now the chance for a Borgified galaxy was close to nil...actually the
probability of them conquering this arm of the galaxy, the Sagiturius
Arm, was only at fifteen point three nine nine six nine percent to begin
with.
Riker sat in his plush, perfectly stuffed command chair, knowing the
decision on what to do next laid with him. Picard would undoubtedly give
him the option of the next action, only overseeing it, and approving it.
The fate of the lives of thousands of people rested with him, the
Tactical Field Commander of Task Force Alpha, a title that would any Pop
proud of his son.
Two Borg left, two Borg ships left...do we follow, do we save
ourselves from what could be our deaths by not going after them, Riker
thought.
He stood," Plot an intercept course for the Borg ships...get us
within weapons range...then match speed and direction...we'll wait at
that distance for the Captain's orders" he said, reflecting on Picard and
still calling him 'The Captain', when he himself now held the rank as well.
"Aye, sir," Data said, alknowledging the command, not giving it a
second thought. A blip lit on his console. "Messages from USS NORTH CAROLINA
and USS DECKER...They request permission to return to 'Base Position'...
both ships report heavy damage and many casualties."
"Granted" Riker said, hanging his head low.
"Captain, the Romulan Fleet is moving in...at maximum warp!" Data
shouted, trying to talk over the noise of repair crews and breaking, or
broken consoles.
****** ***** *****
"What?!" Picard said, staring at the face of Commander Tomalak on
the main view screen. He stood there, on his own command bridge, one that
had just been fixed, listening to something that had seemed to come from
the preverbial 'Right Field'. He can't be serious, was all he continued
to tell himself.
The dark, yellowish face of Tomalak filled the screen, larger
than life. His heavy brow shadowing his dark, almost inhuman, eyes from
the power of Picard's shock. When his face begin to move into a devious
smile, or perhaps an evil grin, Picard could feel the giggles move up his
throat, as Tomalak's ears, pointed as they were, seemed to wriggle and
then jab him in the sides of his head.
When he spoke, the moist, heavy air of the Romulan environment was
close to being visible, even to the sensors for the viewer. "You heard
me, Captain," he was saying.
"Tomalak, that's the worst decision you could make in a time like
this..." Picard said, staring at the screen, still disbelieving every
word that Tomalak had said. Tomalak, you fool...
****** **** ****
On his own bridge, Tomalak sat only inches from the screen. Unlike
his Federation counterparts, his transmissions all took place up close
and personal...mainly to keep his bridge, his ship as secret as possible,
not giving away information like the Federation fools did, with their
open, completely shown views of the command centers of the war ships.
He felt the grin start someplace deep in the cavern of his spinal
column, shivering as it worked it's way to his face," These are not my
orders, Captain Pee-card...they come to you straight from the Romulan
Senate."
On his screen, Tomalak could see the entire bridge of the Exeter,
not that what he was seeing was technology in any state. He was far more
familiar with the nuances of the Enterprise bridge than he was with this
piece of history. And so he should be...
"Tomalak, you want us to withdraw from Romulan space?!" Picard was
saying, he had been difficult to hear until the systems of his own ship
kicked the volume up a few hits on the preverbial 'dial'.
"Now," Tomalak said, reaching to a console off screen.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
"Will, there's no time to explain," Jean-Luc Picard was saying,"
Just get those ships out of there. The Romulans have asked us to leave..."
Riker was standing, halfway between the command chair and the main
viewscreen, which showed the two fleeing Borg vessels. The voice of
Picard flooded the bridge of this ship, the Enforcer. "Understood,"
He gave his orders, the ship slowed, relaying simutaniously to all
the other ships, and turned in a large arc and re-engaged at high warp
heading back to the original base of command in the outer region of the
V'Larm system.
Twenty minutes later the thirteen ships slowed to a respectable
speed, coming up on the position of the Exeter, the command ship of the
Federation Task Force. Riker still couldn't believe it, the Romulans
called them off, sending them home, after all the work and pain and war
they fought to save this quadrant of the galaxy, and now they were going
home. Going home after accomplishing what they were told to accomplish,
not finishing what they wanted to finish, having to let the Romulans do
that, having to let the Romulans take the credit for the final defeat of
the Borg 'Invasion Force'.
He came to the realization that they had been used, used as they
were before by the Q and countless other species, to do someone elses
fighting, to die for someone else, to be someone elses entertainment, to
be someone, someone ungrateful, savior. The Federation was dealing them
an unfair hand, and their poker face wasn't quite up to the expert eyes
of William Riker.
***** **** *****
"I'm telling you, Jean-Luc, they sent us here to die...They knew
full well that the Romulans were going to stiff us once the Borg were
down for the count...I know it," Riker was saying, sitting in the
quarters that were deamed his, the Captains Quarters, talking to his
friend/ his former commanding officer.
Sipping at his glass of earl gray, Picard couldn't quite put
together what Will was talking about, though he knew that whatever it was
it warranted him using Picards first name...something Riker rarely, if he
could remember right, had never done. "I just don't follow, Will. What if
you're right? What if StarFleet is up to something? What can we do about it?"
"Listen. We've been fighting the Borg for more than five years
now, and they insist on leaving us in the dark until the last minute,
every time they show up to conquer the galaxy. I think that either
the heads at StarFleet or someone in the Federation is doing this for
some unknown reason...maybe they know where the Borg are from, and
don't want us to know."
"And maybe you need a little sleep, Will." Picard said,
chuckling. He thought that was pretty funny, especially since he
thought Will was simply talking non-sense.
"And maybe I'm right." He said, not laughing. Much too serious
for that," Every time we have a dealing with the Borg, it's Admiral
Necheyev who handles us and what we do..."
"That's her job, Will....she's the head of Borg intell-
igence."
"And maybe she's the one holding back on us, maybe she has
something to do with all this."
"Will, I don't see what you're all worked up about. The
Romulans made us pull out and start heading home because that's what
the Romulans want, not because it's what Admiral Necheyev wants."
"All I'm saying is that someone better keep an eye on her and
those like her, we don't want what happened eighty years ago in the
Klingon Peace Agreement to happen again, we don't need high officials
lurking around giving information to the Romulans...or the Borg."
"I hear you, Will, but-" and the door buzzer went off,
stopping Picard in mid-sentence.
Riker walked over to the door, hit the button...and standing
there was an ensign, the only one he really recognized, and this one
only because he was the night watch communications officer. The young
officer handed him a pad and said the message came through only a
minute before, for him only...
"Thank you, ensign," He said, moving away fromt he door,
allowing it to close. Riker walked back over to his seat, pulled on
his pants leg and sat down. Thumbing the pad for a moment and reading
intently the contents of the message, he looked up to Picard.
"What is it?" Jean-Luc asked, moving over to rest on the
armrest of Rikers' chair, so to look at the pad.
"It seems the walls have ears," Riker said, still sitting
there in a state close to neural shock," You won't believe it..."
he said, handing the pad to Picard.
Jean-Luc moved over to the corner of the room, a spot where
there was enough light for him to see what the message said. Not
believing his eyes the first time, he read it a second time, then a
third. Each time the message said the same thing:
SHE IS INVOVLED, BUT NOT LIKE
YOU THINK. THE MISSION IS ONLY
A DECADE AWAY. SHE MUST BE STOPPED
BUT NOT NOW. DROP IT, LEAVE IT BE.
CONTACT IN TWO YEARS. KEEP IT
QUIET, BETWEEN YOU AND PICARD.
THE OPERATIVE.
And he still couldn't believe it.
"I think we should do as it says, and forget about all this."
Riker finally said, knowing no matter how long he tried, this message
would always come between him and his captain, Jean-Luc Picard. It
seemed this mission was only asking more questions than it was
answering.
"Indeed."
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
"They've brought us here...You've brought us here, as hostages,
solely to tell us why you turned on the Borg, I find that hard to
believe." Odo said, his form not fully, one hundred percent, recovered
from the effects of the unknown gas.
"Believe what you want, Offworlder," the woman, at least- the
feminine looking changling said to him, meaning insult (to add to his
injury) by calling him something close to an outcast. But leaving this
place to begin with, he constantly told himself, was your decision not
mine...I left because you sent me, you made me what I am.
"Well," Dax said, pulling her arm from the grasp of her Jem'Hadar
guard. She was feeling a bit aggresive, a bit too aggresive as Odo
noticed her attitude toward them all shifting to one close to violence.
He nudged her in the side with an elbow, a changling elbow, one that hurt
a little more than the soft elbows of true humanoids. She got the point,
not changing her attitude any," We're here, so explain so I can go home."
***** ***** ***** ****
"The dampening field on the planets surface has been lifted,
Captain," Kira said, looking amazed at the readout. O'Brien walked over,
punched some buttons, looked at the different screens and couldn't
believe it.
"She's right, Captain, we have transporter locks on all of our
people." he said, turning to walk back where he was stationed near the
back of the bridge. T'Rul stared at him, she obviously didn't like
O'Brien, but that was okay he didn't Romulans. Too much like them bloody
Cardies, he thought.
"Lower shields...beam them out of there." Sisko said, legs
crossed, his hands securing his position in the center seat.
As per usual, Kira went to the corner opposite, taking the
position of devils advocate," What if they fire on us when we lower
shields, Captain? Don't forget there're a dozen Jem'Hadar ships out there
waiting to blow us to your hell." She swaggered that sexy Bajoran freedom
fighter walk over to Sisko.
"They didn't lower the shield and allow us to make transporter
contact if they intended to blow us to hell, Major." Sisko said, putting
a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently and sending her back to her
station," Now beam them out of there before they change their minds."
O'Brien was busily working in the back of the bridge," Captain,
shields down....beaming them all up now....forty seven crew aboard,sir
..that's all of 'em" he said.
Sisko stood, turned to O'Brien," Good work, Chief," he spun
around, taking two steps forward, laying a hand on the shoulder of the
helmsman," Now, ensign, take us home...maximum warp."
"Aye, sir."
The ships moved off, leaving orbit, hitting warp..they were gone.
And still Ben Sisko and more important Kate Janeway, both had no
idea what was going on.
Two minutes after entering high warp, the sensors picked up
Jem'Hadar ships, twenty of them!, approaching at a speed only point two
warp over their own. They would over take them twenty minutes after
passing through to the Alpha Quadrant...Ben Sisko had to find out what
the hell happened down there.
The best person to ask was resting, propped against the wall of a
small cargo bay in the Defiants' lower level section, being treated by
Doctor Bashir and a guy by the name of Doc Zimmerman from the Voyager. He
needed their 'ok' to talk to anyone, and once Sisko got it he wasted no
time getting down there.
Only to find that Janeway had beamed over, beating him there.
Damn, he thought, she really knows how to irritate me..Damn.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Dax sat, leaning against the wall of the ship, her bare shoulders
chilled against the cool metal support. She had just begun when Ben Sisko
arrived," The Borg moved through the Dominion just like they did through
the Federation a few years ago," she was saying. Bashir was tending to a
small laceration on her left knee, causing her to wince and stop her story.
"That's it, you're all back to normal," He said, moving away from her.
"That's a relief," she replied, then looked back to Sisko and his
counterpart/commanding officer Captain Kate Janeway. She tried to
continue from where she left off," The Borg had assimilated a Jem'Hadar
ship out near the fringes of their territory. The Borg had learned who
was in control and headed straight for the sunless world of the Founders'...
just like they did to earth when they kidnapped Captain Picard.
"They also learned the defenses of the Jem'Hadar and those of the
Founders, but once they got where they were going, they found that the
Founders' weren't exactly up to being assimilated." she said.
"You mean they tried to assimilate a...a changling into the
collective?" Captain Janeway asked.
"That's what they told us," Jadzia replied.
"I take it that they didn't succeed at it?" Sisko said, question like.
"Actually, Benjamin, they did-"
"What?!" Janeway questioned, stunned and shocked.
"The Borg did assimilate a changling, just one, one who wanted to
be assimilated. But the Borg were fooled, the changling was capible of
extracting information from the collective then cut off the new Borg part
of its'....of its', what's the word I'm looking for...of its'
conscienceness." Dax said, explaining the details just as if they really
meant nothing at all, as if she was describing her first date with Morn,
if she ever decided to take him up on the offer that is.
"And what happened then...where they all whisked away by a tornado
to the Land of Oz...'Oh, Toto, where are we?'..." Janeway said, not
believing what Jadzia was saying. She didn't mean it to sound as it did,
she wanted the point that she didn't believe the Founders' or anyone else
from Gamma as far as she could throw them...but that's not what Dax thought.
"Captain Janeway, If you want to know what they told me then stop
talking and listen, otherwise you won't know that they plan to kill us if
we don't head straight for the wormhole and never look back."
"They're going to attack us?!" Janeway asked.
"If we head straight for the wormhole and don't deviate before
then, then we're fine. But if we stop to investigate the Borg debris,
then we're dead...sir." Jadzia said, making it to her feet.
"Well we aren't going to have them telling us what to do." Janeway
said, as if she had made the decision to remain in the Gamma Quadrant
because the Dominion said they couldn't.
"Captain," Sisko was saying, protesting anything illogical that
Janeway was going to say beforehand,"We are going home...straight home."
To his relief, she replied," I never said we weren't."
**** *****
"The Jem'Hadar ships are breaking and changing course...heading
back to their point of origin," The helm officer of the Defiant said, to
the relief of everyone present.
Before the mighty ship, a large blue and white disk appeared, as if
from nowhere, and with no apprehension the six other ships flew into the
emornous disk, only to dissapear from to the relative onlooker in the
normal universe...only to reappear across the galaxy, some seventy
thousand light years away!
***** ****
Sitting around the center table in the 'Pit' in Ops. Dax was
trying to continue from where she left off,"The Founders' realized
that the Borg had planned to return to the Dominion after conquering
the Alpha Quadrant, to assimilate those they could, and destroy those
they couldn't...and that's what happened: the Founders' had the Borg
destroyed." she said, finishing her tale, or at least she thought she
was finished.
"Now, one minute, Jadzia," Commander Sisko was saying. He had
been given his position back as commander of DS9, thus getting his
'field promotion' taken back, he knew that was going to happen: that's
what a 'field promotion' is.
Outside the station, three of the starships were gearing up for
a return to earth, the other three would be, including th Voyager,
staying in the area to fend off the Marquis, and the slim chance the
Borg or Jem'Hadar would come looking for someone to fight.
Sisko finally finished what he wanted to say, after taking a
moment to think about what, about how he wanted to ask her his
question," Just how did they 'destroy' the Borg ships? THere were
three of them, not one, not two, but three...I just don't see how they
could do that without losing at least a dozen ships in the process."
Jadzia looked down, knowing that he had asked the one thing she
had asked the Founders' and the one thing they refused to tell her,"
They wouldn't say how they did it, but I'm sure there is some type of
residual substance remaining out there in space or not that debris
that would shed light on it...that's probably why they didn't want us
stopping on the way home, I can't believe it, that's it: they didn't
want us to have the information...because...because, maybe...well,
maybe they're going to try to use Borg technology later..." she looked
up to him, fear showing in those eyes.
Sisko understood now, the whole endevour, only one thing eluded
him, the one thing he couldn't ask now, not that this great revelation
had just occurred. He knew she was probably right," At least we know
there is a way to defeat the Borg, we just need to find out how...send
all our scans of the debris and anything else that seems involved to
StarFleet Command, they'll understand once you write your report and
add it to the one Captain Janeway left for us to send." He couldn't
bring himself to say that Janeway had left a sterling review of the
officer he was talking to, it wasn't right that he read the report,
and it wasn't right that he bring it up now, at a time when they were
most likely on the verge of finding a way to defeat the Borg and their
evil technologies.
"I'm already on it," she said heading for the 'lift.
"This shouldn't take long, maybe a year or two," Chief O'Brien
said following behind her, he was obviously going to join her in her
attempt to find something before sending it all away to SF HQ.
"Well," Sisko said, as the 'lift began to descend,"Just make
sure whatever you find, that it's the one, we can't afford to say we
have something, then when they come again...find we have nothing."
CHAPTER THIRTY NINE
Picard sat in his center seat, only hours from re-entering
Federation space. He knew how when he was a child and the family would
go on vacations, how the ride to the beach (or whereever they were going)
always seemed longer than the ride home. For once, the reverse was true,
time was slowing, almost to a halt for Captain Jean-Luc Picard. The
thoughts of what had happened back there, the destruction of three
separate starships, the damage to his own ship, the Romulans forcing them
to leave, not retrieving the two probes from the romulans (thus leaving
Federation technology to be inspected by the Romulans), and finally the
mysterious message from someone at StarFleet. He couldn't put it
together, how did that fit into everything that was going on around them?
He just didn't know.
Riker had returned to the Enforcer, and was no doubtedly doing the
same as Picard: mulling over every word and everything that had happened
in the past two weeks, the time since they had left Golondin 'Cor. But
Picard couldn't turn his mind away form the message, a message that
someone knew he would read as well as Riker.
"Status?" he asked, the night shift now up and running things on
the bridge. He didn't retire to his quarters when he was supposed to,
just letting Troi sit in sickbay with Beverly, both worrying about him
and his time of waking hours compared to time sleeping. SOmething that
was way off balance, and began to show no sooner that a week before.
"All systems nominal," the helm officer said, seated in front and
to the left of Picard.
Finally, he rose and headed for the turbolift, there was nothing he
could do here, just as likely as there was nothing he could do in his
quarters alone. "Mister Barclay, you have the bridge," he said, looking
over his shoulder at Reg, who jumped at the mention of his name.
"Y...yes, sir," he said, stuttering and nerviuos, the normal
Barclay, it was good to see that some things never change. The doors to
the 'lift closed and Picard found himself heading to his quarters, where
he would do what? What, indeed, he told himself. To his quarters where he
would lay on his bed contemplating every mistake, every error, wondering
how it could have been different. Lease of all, how they Federation was
going to handle the forced retreat of the Task FOrce from Romulan space.
Through the pictures of death and destruction, through the cloud of
smoke that formed in his mind, a cloud that took the shape of faces he
had seen on screen, faces of the dead, those lost under his command. But
not just the faces that were lost in the battle with the Borg, but those
of all he had lost in his days: those on this mission, like Ed Jellico,
those with their encounter with Doctor Soran, including the doctor
himself and the legendary Captain Kirk, those of the Stargazer, his first
command, one where he lost most of his crew to an attack by the Ferengi.
And finally one face was lifted above them all, a face of a yound child,
a boy of only nine years, his nephew: Rene. That of his brother faded,
giving strong remembrances of this child, the one that seemed as if his
own son in these memories. Memories he wished would go away, that he
could forget, he just store for later use. But that never seemed to
happen, memories that we tried to forget we never forgot. They're always
right at the front of our minds, as we try, forcingly, to forget them, we
are inadverdently remembering them, not letting them go.
Damn, he thought, I'll never be the same, not with death so close,
so near to me, so near to those who were so dear to me. Damn...
**** **** ****
Picard awoke from his sleep to only find he had slept through only
a tiny fraction of time it would take to return to his home, the one that
had burnt to the ground on earth. But that was nothing now, in the past,
the house could be rebuilt, it was the lives that mattered, the lives
because they could never be rebuilt, it just didn't work that way. Unless
your name is Q.
But Q wasn't around now, he had nothing to do with this, the
problems of the past few weeks, the deaths that had occurred in that
time. Without Q there was no way of understanding what had happened
to the time, time when everyone was alive and young and didn't have
the problems that the Borg brung with them. Damn, he thought finally
making it to his feet, leaving the comforts of a hundred year old bed
behind.
He felt relieved, the worlds problems where no long his, his were
now the worlds' problems. Picard felt relieved, the whole fiasco about
StarFLeet only remained, and the message had said a decade before they
could do anything...a decade, that's quite a long time for an old man
like me, he told himself.
But Riker wasn't quite as happy of their situation. Picard knew
when the buzzer to his cabin went off. After giving the normal," Open"
command he was apt to deliver, Will walked in. It was Riker, yet it
wasn't. He seemed worried, almost as if hampered, personally, by the
message, all else faded, including the deaths that had happened only days
and hours before.
"Captain, We can't..." he began, Picard knowing what was coming.
"Will, we have no choice. You read the message, besides, as far as
we can prove, the message itself may had been a prank of some kind." he
said, knowing full well that he was only fooling himself with that.
"A prank....a message comes to us confirming what I was
saying...and you say it may had been a prank," Riker said, that nastiness
that tended to fill his voice when he was upset was in every word he spoke.
His hair seemed messed, not like he had been sleeping, but rather like he
had been running his nervious hands through it.
"If it was real, we can't do anything, we don't even know what
exactly we're looking for. And there's no sense in worrying about it now,
here in the middle of nowhere." again he fooled only himself, though his
points were being taken into consideration. Not only by Riker, but
himself aswell.
"I guess you're right."
"I know I am," Picard replied, standing and putting a hand on
Riker's shoulder. He understood the trouble that was eating away at
Riker's neurons, the same trouble he was feeling. But with him it was
woven into the feelings of remorse and grief. But then again he and Will
had faced the problem of trouble in StarFleet before, about seven years
earlier...a time that followed enough bloodshed to last each man a life time.
"I know I am," he repeated, them both heading for the door.
"Let's look into it again later, maybe after we find what
StarFleet wants to do with us," Picard said, letting the topic of trouble
brewing in SF go for the time, hopefully, though doubtfully, he thought
perhaps they would forget the whole thing, and find one day in the future
that the message they had recieved was a prank. I doubt it though, he
thought, I doubt it...
"Fine by me, the sooner we can put the Borg and this thing behind
us, the better," Riker said, a slight smile moving over his face. He
turned to his former, though only temprary, commanding officer, grabbed
on the arm and with the most serious look he could muster, one that would
be difficult under anyother circumstances, said to Picard,"You know we're
all getting together later, once we get back to Federation space, to look
around the Enforcer. Unbelievable, my own ship and I don't even want it,
never have I even looked around it...only on the bridge and my quarters."
"Amazing, Will, simply amazing," Picard said laughing, his first
good laugh in weeks, being sarcastic with his former, and would be again,
first officer.
"Then we're going to have a sip of that Romulan Ale Geordi beamed
off the Rom-" interupted by Picard.
"Geordi did what?!"
"I had him scan the Romulan ship that placed the probes around the
Borg ships. He said there were cases upon cases of either Romulan ALe or
petroleum jelly aboard the ship. When they went to cloak, I had him beam
a case aboard...it turned out to be Romulan Ale. What would they be doing
with cases of petro jelly, anyway?" he said, smiling the entire time.
"Number One, I don't know if I should write a recommendation for
you, or have you brigged for that one," Picard said laughing as the two
walked down the corridor.
"A sip of the Ale and a game of Poker. Would you join us,
Captain?" he asked, keeping the captain part loud and annoying like he
did before Picard would join them, distancing himself from his crew.
From somewhere down the bend of the corridor, they both heard a
voice shout," Ah'd be delighted ta join ye,"....Scottie. They knew it,
and neither minded, it seemed that even in the twenty fourth century,
this twenty third century man could bring a smile to anyone's face.
"Very good, Captain Scott." Picard shouted down the hall,
wondering exactly what Scottie was doing down there. THen to Will," I
think I'll tag along as well, Number One,".
"Glad you've come to your senses,...Sir!" Riker cried, on the
verge of tears. He had a classic case of the little girl giggles. From
the last few weeks, the one thing no one did was laugh or have fun, and
now Will Riker was making up more than his share worth. But then he was
always one to find and have the most fun...
EPILOGUE
"So Commander, have you decided on what-" Kira was saying, but then
the buzzer sounded. A male Bajoran entered the office, now fully Sisko's
again, and handed her a padd, she turned to Sisko, smiled, and left.
Obviously some one needed her, Sisko was slightly relieved, he didn't
exactly know what she was getting to.
The door closed as Kira and the Bajoran man left. From the corner
of his eye, Sisko saw something blink in blue, he turned to see single
letters start to form words on the viewscreen on the wall in his office.
He waited, the words taking a full thirty seconds to form completely,
anticapating each one.
IT IS STARFLEET. THE ADMIRAL.
CONTACT PICARD IN THE FUTURE.
RIKER KNOWS AS WELL, IT IS THE
ADMIRAL.
What the hell does that mean, he asked himself. As he reached out,
over his desk to hit a record button, the image slowly faded back to
nothing, leaving him no evidence of what just happened.
Later, Sisko would have a search done to find where the message
came from, not letting on to its' contents, he didn't want to seem as if
he had finally lost his mind. The only information, a week of searching,
would finally come up with is that the message had been sent, via
subspace, from Sector 001...earth.
***** ***** *****
"Let me tell ye abou' tha' ship over there," Scottie was saying,
taking his third scotch. He wasn't that good of a poker player, but he
did even worse when he was drinking, but then again he had a reason to
drink, they all had a reason. It was a time of quiet celebration, the
defeat of the Borg, well, not quite defeat.
He glanced out the window, warping through space beside them was
the USS Exeter. He said," Ah think it was during the second year of our
five year mission...the first one...and the Enterprise came upon tha'
ship, and she had not a single crewmember,". He was enjoying himself,
finding that telling these old stories where just as great now as they
were a hundred years before," these aliens had turned the whole crew
inta...inta dehydrated things."
"Things?" Beverly asked, placing another five in the pile.
"Aye, they had removed every water molecule from the crew's
bodies, and turned them inta little cubes...it was the most frightening
thing...seeing Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy get captured
by them," he said, shaking his head. He had found out two weeks after it
had happened, that Jim Kirk hadn't died, but now he was dead. He knew.
Picard's communicator chirped. He rose and left the room with his
usual," Excuse me,". Once he was in the corridor, where not a single
living soul seemed to be walking," Go ahead,"
Barclay's voice came over the circuit," Message for you from Deep
Space Nine, sir, Commander Sisko,". What did he want, Picard asked,
having already known that of the outcome of the Borg ships that were to
attack from the Gamma Quadrant. It seemed that this Dominion thing was
far more dangerous than the Borg. But then, he knew the Borg, making them
seem not quite as menacing as they really were.
"I'll take it down here," he said, moving over to one of the
screens built into the wall of the corridor. It seemed safer to take it
here, where no one was at, than to take the time to go back to the Exeter
to hear the time delayed message.
On a screen before him appeared the face of Ben Sisko. He was
saying," Captain Picard, I was informed by someone that you...quote 'knew
about the admiral' unquote...Someone's playing games, Captain. I'd like
to know who, can you help me." The transmission ended as quickly as it
had begun.
"Barclay, send recorded message to DS Nine, in code, the
following: Riker and myself will be on shore leave, may visit out that
way. Can't help now, wait...message said we can't do a thing for a few
years. We should just sit back and way for more evidence. I'll explain
the little we know sometime in the future. Picard out." he said. Turning
back to the room that was Riker's quarters.
**** **** **** ****
"Number One, Ben Sisko of DS Nine knows as well," he said, keeping
everyone else in the room in the dark. Let them try and figure it out,
they couldn't. He wouldn't tell them, he couldn't, no matter if they were
friends or not, that was one reason for not saying a word: they were friends.
"I see," Riker said, thinking for a moment before asking Picard a
question," Sir, what's are reason for not looking into this now?" he
asked, obviusly wanting a little reassurance. Picard knew.
"Because this mission was to defeat the Borg. This matter is a
whole other mission...for the future." Picard answered.
"Yes, sir."
***** ****** ******
"Admiral, I can't help thinking this is wrong," the intern said,
looking at Necheyev drop the files and disks and iso-chips into the
StarFleet standard 'Phaser Shredder', a Texas Instruments Version.
"Your job isn't to think, but to do what I tell you to do.
Understand?" Necheyev demanded.
"Yes, sir."
That's it in it's entirity, complete and uncut. I hope you enjoyed it.
SEAN CORBETT
sc