nice. oh and I just read your new signature. Very funny, since I majored in history, I got a good chuckle out of that one!
CERC
Unity II: Shadows of the Night, Redux (Complete)
Moderator: LadyTevar
Sum Senatus
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
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- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
-
Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Part XVII
On Coruscant, the committee room was full of outraged delegates, and with good reason. "It is not enough that we face assimilation by the Borg," Fey’lya remarked, "Now you're telling us we're on the brink of war with another race?!"
"Yes," General Madine said, refusing to shout over the squabbling bureaucrats; if they were interested in what he had to say, they could quiet down and discuss this in a reasonable fashion, especially considering the gravity of his news. "Five worlds have been attacked in the past few days, random and brutal; few survivors, few answers."
"I hope you've more to tell us than that!"
Madine turned to him, his look causing the Bothan to shiver slightly. "Yes," he said through his teeth. He turned back to the committee. "I've checked over the records of the attack and I can tell you that this is a species we haven't encountered before called the Ssi-Ruuk
"How do you know that?" Quedlifu demanded. "If we've never encountered them how do you know who they are?"
Madine swiveled a little as he leaned back in his chair. "My people have been going through the Imperial Database, and apparently there had been limited secret dealings between them and the Empire."
"What kind of dealings?" Ackbar asked.
Madine sighed a little and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers. "You remember the mystery of Bakura?"
A hush descended over the room. Several years before while the war continued with the Empire, horrific news came of the planet Bakura. Apparently the entire population had vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but an empty world behind, a ghost planet. No one ever knew what had happened, or so it had been claimed. "The Ssi-Ruuk?" Ackbar asked.
Madine nodded. "By order of the Emperor himself. The Ssi-Ruuk were given permission to abduct the entire world in exchange for technology."
"It seems that when the Emperor's evil couldn't have been worse," Mon Mothma said, "he manages to outdo himself once again."
Madine nodded. "He knew the outrage this could cause, and we only found reference in his private records. Only a handful of people knew the Ssi-Ruuk even existed."
"Quite strange that they would choose now of all times to launch an attack," Dx'ono commented.
"I thought so as well," Madine replied, "And I believe I have the answer." A hologram appeared in the center of the conference table as he continued. "The Ssi-Ruuk homeworld is located here," he said as a single planet magnified. "Now, the Ssi-Ruuk believe that if they die away from their home planet they will suffer some terrible fate." He leaned forward even more, wanting to let the statement sink in before he revealed the last piece. "Here's a scan of the planet as of this morning." The planet was replaced by an asteroid field.
"You mean..." Fey’lya began, but didn't finish; it seemed clear to everyone what had happened.
"Yes," Madine nodded, "The planet's been completely blown away."
"Impossible!" Dx'ono said. "Impossible! The only thing that could do that would be... would be..."
"Yes," Ackbar replied, "A Death Star. And the only one in existence is in the hands of the Borg."
"Say that were true," Mon Mothma replied, "Why are these Ssi-Ruuk attacking us?"
"We're not sure," General Madine admitted. "Our best guess is that they think we're responsible. There's evidence that suggests that the Emperor threatened to turn the Death Star against their homeworld if they refused to withdraw after Bakura. They might think he destroyed their world, and now are trying to take their revenge on him by attacking the Empire."
"Which is now the Republic," Mon Mothma finished wearily. She thought for a moment. "How did the Borg know about the Ssi-Ruuk?" she asked.
Madine shifted a little in his seat. "We don't know that either. As I said, only a small handful knew of their existence at all, none of whom were ever assimilated. I don't see how they could have learned of its existence."
"This is all very interesting," Fey'lya remarked, "But it doesn't change the fact that they're mad and need to be stopped."
"And how do you propose to do that?" Ackbar replied. "Our fleet is strained to the limits keeping track of the Borg."
"What good is it to monitor the Borg if the Ssi-Ruuk destroy us?" Fey'lya demanded. "We must do something about them now!"
"I'm inclined to agree," Mon Mothma said. "I understand the situation with the Borg," she said before Ackbar could say anything, "But we mustn't allow the Ssi-Ruuk to destroy our people."
"That's probably exactly what the Borg wanted us to do," Ackbar insisted.
"Don't be foolish," Fey'lya said. "Everyone knows the Borg are tactical idiots."
"Spoken like an expert," Ackbar grumbled.
"Nevertheless," Mon Mothma said, "We must do something about the Ssi-Ruuk." She turned her attention to Ackbar. "Is Rogue Squadron ready? We need to get help from our Milky Way allies if we're to triumph against both enemies."
"Commander Antilles and his group will be launching tomorrow," Ackbar replied. "And I have every confidence in their success."
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Wedge watched as the final checks were being completed on his X-Wing. Everyone knew that this ship was going into a serious combat zone, and every instrument, every switch had to be checked and checked again, because a moment's failure could mean life and death on this mission. Fortunately, everything had checked out, if only there had been more good news.
"How many more attacks?" Wedge asked Corran Horn who'd finally come down to join the rest of the squadron.
"Four since this morning," Horn said wearily. "The fleet beat them back at Clack'dor VII but the other three we were unprepared for. Looks like they'll be sending in more ships." He shook his head. "I don't like this boss."
"You're not the only one," Wedge said, fitting his flight helmet into place. "But we've got our job, and we've got to let others do theirs."
The two slid into the cockpits of their X-Wings, the final checklist complete. From that landing platform twelve of Incom's finest lifted into the atmosphere and raced for high orbit. In no time they were free of the planet and traveling through hyperspace, to face what could well be their most difficult mission ever. Running a blockade was dangerous; they'd done it before, and it wasn't pretty. Wedge just hoped one squadron could pull this off.
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Taar had never had much experience with Cardassians. During the war he’d spent almost all his time fighting the Borg in the Delta Quadrant, and didn’t get to that area of space too often, but he had had enough to determine they were a despicable lot. They were always shady and untrustworthy, and like many species they assumed everyone else was like them, making them quite a difficult group to deal with. The thought of spending time discussing a trade with a Cardassian didn’t sound terribly appealing to Delric Taar, but he was forever bound to his duty, and with only mild disgust walked into the establishment, whatever it was. A few quick seconds revealed the only Cardassian in the place, Mr. Garak.
“Ah,” said Garak, rising to his feet as Taar approached, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever show.”
Taar grumbled a little as he stepped self-consciously up to the table and took a seat as Garak did the same. “Do you enjoy attracting attention to yourself?” he asked as the Cardassian sat, his small grin succeeding in annoying Taar even more.
“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” Garak said with a note of sympathy, which obviously meant that he felt none. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?”
“No we haven’t,” Taar replied. “Can we skip the pleasantries and get down to business?”
“Whatever you’d prefer colonel,” Garak replied dismissively.
"Good, now what are you offering, Mr. Garak?”
“What I always offer,” Garak replied with a voice that grated Taar, “Information. Something I think the Empire will particularly value.”
“You wish materials as per our usual arrangement?” Taar asked. During the course of his studies for this meeting he’d learned that the Empire was supplying the Cardassians, at least Garak’s group of Cardassians, with supplies and weapons in exchange for information. He hoped Garak would be reasonable with his demands; the construction of the fleet was putting a strain on the Imperial budget.
“Actual no,” Garak replied. “I want a piece of information in return.”
Taar shook his head. “You are well aware that the Empire will not give technical or military secrets away to anyone. Do not test me Garak.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstand, colonel,” hitting the word in such a way as to maximize his irritation for Taar. “I have reason to believe the Empire has access to some information which can be very useful to me, without compromising your security in the slightest.” He explained briefly what he wanted.
“I suppose that can be arranged,” Taar replied. “Don’t expect us to be terribly helpful with this.”
“Anything would be helpful at this point,” Garak replied.
“What are you offering in exchange?” Taar asked.
Garak pulled a datapad of some kind out from under the table. “Information on a Federation weapon.”
“What kind of weapon?” Taar asked suspiciously.
“Do we have an agreement?” Garak asked in a coy manner.
“Yes,” Taar finally said. The Federation had emerged as one of the major powers of this galaxy, and any weapon they may possess might be of tactical importance to the Empire.
“Good,” Garak replied, tapping on the datapad. “I don’t have any specifics, but I can tell you that the Federation is developing a large-scale weapon to be used against the Borg. It’s a secret project that involves some of the highest levels of Starfleet.”
“What kind of weapon?” Taar asked.
“I’m not sure,” Garak admitted. “I do know that Deep Space 13 is somehow involved, and that the most important members include an engineer named Lt. Reginald Barclay, Amb. Leia Organa Solo of the Republic, and Amb. Jean-luc Picard.” His grin widened a little. “Ambassador to the Republic, if you may recall.”
Taar thought a little about it. An interesting prospect to be sure, especially considering it would be used against the Borg. Whatever it was would definitely benefit the Empire, if only to help them in their war against them. “Are you saying that the Republic is giving technology to the Federation to build this weapon?”
Garak held up his hands to show he was implying nothing. “I provide information; it’s your job to reach conclusions. However, I can tell you that Amb. Solo inspected the progress on Deep Space 13 a week ago, and that Amb. Picard, despite being thousands of light-years away, has been in constant communication with the members of this project, and,” he added with obvious satisfaction, “he will be coming to personally inspect the project in the coming weeks.”
Taar considered the implications of what Garak had to say as he returned to the Chimaera. It was definitely something the Empire should get involved in, he decided, not only to protect themselves against the Borg, but also to ensure that this weapon wasn’t used against the Empire. By the time he reached the holoprojector he’d made up his mind.
“A superweapon against the Borg?” Thrawn said with only a slight air of surprise; actually more curiosity than anything else.
“So he claims admiral,” Taar replied. “But I think we’ve enough evidence to consider this a real possibility, and something we should definitely learn more about.”
Thrawn nodded thoughtfully. “Picard is with the Enterprise, correct? Captain Riker will not withdraw the flagship just to return Picard to Federation Space, he’ll use a shuttle, runabout, or a small starship for that to maintain his presence on the front lines.” Thrawn thought some more. “Yes. Colonel, I want you to intercept Picard and bring him to me. This weapon, whatever it is, could be the key to Imperial victory over the Borg, and we can’t afford to put our fate in the hands of Starfleet. I want you to personally oversee this operation.” And his image faded away.
Once again Thrawn was throwing a new assignment before him, Taar thought as he returned to his current quarters on the Chimaera. Planning the capture of a single vessel in a situation like this was a logistically complex problem, but again Thrawn had given it to him. What was the reason? he wondered. Regardless, he resigned himself to his task, and proceeded to lay out his plan with all the diligence necessary. As always, his duty to the Empire was the most important, although the fact that this could lead to the destruction of the Borg didn’t hurt matters any.
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The Ssi-Ruuk bombardments continued despite the Republic's best efforts. It seemed that with their world gone they'd lost all sense of fear and mercy. Senator Ackbar read the reports with a great weariness, wondering where everything had gone wrong. How could they have reached this point, fought so hard, sacrificed so much, clawed their way tooth and nail to a final victory only to now stand poised between these two enemies, both intent on annihilating them? To have everything they'd been working for fall now, after all that, it was unthinkable.
Yes, he thought, unthinkable that I should stand by and allow it to happen. After much deliberation he reached his decision, although not an easy one. It would mean the end of his career to be sure, but he was different from the others on that council; he wanted to serve the Republic, and right now the best place to do that would not be from a conference chair.
By the end of business that day, Ackbar was senator no more. He was a New Republic Admiral, ready to do his part against this new enemy. Whether or not it would make a difference he wasn't sure, but he knew in his heart of hearts that this was the best chance to save what he believed in.
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“So,” Picard said as he looked at the streaming characters on the display, “This is it.”
“Yes sir,” Laforge replied, tapping one of the button on the display. The code shifted off to a box in the lower right corner, allowing a diagram to appear on the screen of what looked like some kind of circuit. “We ran over eight simulations on it. If anything can destroy the Borg, this thing can.”
“The program is designed to infect the cortical implants of the drones first,” Seven announced as she inserted an isolinear chip into her tricorder and began typing instructions. “This will interfere with the Borg’s ability to adapt. From there it will spread to the communications relay, preventing them from communicating, and finally disabling the navigational controls of their ships. It should cause the collapse of the entire collective within hours of insertion.” She pulled out the isolinear chip and held it up for a few seconds, then passing it to Picard. He took it delicately in his hand and looked at it with mixed emotions.
“The power to bring down a civilization,” he said quietly. “And it’s sitting in the palm of my hand.” He closed his eyes and he gently squeezed it in his palm. “Thousands of centuries of development, ground to a halt by this. Wiped out in the blink of an eye.” He surprised himself. “Do I have that right?”
The group was quiet, but Luke finally spoke. “Ambassador, I commend you on your compassion. But you and I know first hand that the Borg are incapable of such emotion themselves. You know they won’t stop until they’ve destroyed or assimilated everything. It’s a sad burden placed on your shoulders, but nevertheless we must continue. We can’t allow the evil that is the Borg to continue to threaten the galaxy; and if we can’t stop them with diplomacy and reason, then they have forced this choice upon us.”
Laforge put his hand on Picard’s shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do Jean-luc,” he said sympathetically.
Picard nodded quietly. “Of course. Thank you, both of you. That momentary loss in judgment could have spelt the end of the Federation.”
“Completely understandable,” Luke replied. “You’d be less than human if you didn’t feel some regret over this. Believe me, no one wants a peaceful solution more than I do, but the Borg have forced our hands; we must wipe them out.”
Picard shook his head in agreement, then turned to Laforge. “How’s the array coming?”
“They met a bit of a snag,” Geordi said, leaning against the table. “Probably another three weeks until they’re ready.” He looked at the others uncertainly, and then continued speaking to Picard. “There is one other thing we need to discuss. Borg security is tighter than we thought. Now we can get through it, but there’s a catch: we can’t use a computer to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Despite their dependence on machinery,” Seven said, “The Borg still communicate using their living minds. A computer cannot interface with the collective.”
Picard was somewhat surprised. “But, Data...”
“Data’s not a computer,” Laforge pointed out. “His positronic brain was close enough to be able to penetrate, although just barely. And since he’s not available, we have only one choice; we need a person to connect to the collective.”
Picard nodded, but he didn’t like it. His own experience with the voices of the Borg had been unsettling, he didn’t like the thought of someone having to force their way in. “I see...”
“I have volunteered for the procedure,” Seven remarked. “I’m the only member of Starfleet who has experience with the Borg Collective Consciousness.
“No,” Picard said shaking his head. “No, your place is here. If there’s a problem, if something goes wrong, we’ll need your expertise on the Borg to fight this war.” He sighed. “I’ll go.”
“Ambassador?” Geordi replied, clearly surprised by his former captain’s decision. “Are you certain this is what you want to do?”
“I don’t want to do it Geordi,” Picard remarked, “But I have to. I’ll finish this.”
Seven looked uncertain. "Ambassador," she said. "May I have a moment?" The others left to see to other matters. "I cannot allow you to do this."
"My mind's made up, Seven."
"Your experience with the Collective was brief," Seven insisted. "And was over ten years ago-"
"And you've been experiencing psychological instability related to the Borg," Picard shot back. He paused, then held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Seven, your recent problems can all be traced directly back to the engrams I sent you."
"It was not your fault."
"Seven," he said kindly, "I may not be your captain, but I'm still your friend, and I can't put you in harm's way again."
"I do not need you to protect me from the Borg," Seven said with resentment.
"No, you don't," Picard said. "But I want to, don't you understand? Friends protect each other."
"Then why can't I protect you?"
"Because I outrank you in this project," he said with a smile. "So I win." He read her expression. "Seven," he said softly, "you don't owe me anything."
"I assimilated you," Seven said with shame in her voice. "That you can even do this is my fault-"
"Look at me," he said firmly, and she looked into his face. "It wasn't your fault," he said in a clear voice. "You had no control. It was the Collective that harmed me, the same Collective that harmed you. Don't let what happened get in the way of our friendship."
Seven's jaw trembled and surprisingly she pulled him close and embraced him. "Be careful, Jean-luc," she said with tears in her voice.
"I will," he said. "And if all goes well, we'll both be sleeping a lot better at night."
On Coruscant, the committee room was full of outraged delegates, and with good reason. "It is not enough that we face assimilation by the Borg," Fey’lya remarked, "Now you're telling us we're on the brink of war with another race?!"
"Yes," General Madine said, refusing to shout over the squabbling bureaucrats; if they were interested in what he had to say, they could quiet down and discuss this in a reasonable fashion, especially considering the gravity of his news. "Five worlds have been attacked in the past few days, random and brutal; few survivors, few answers."
"I hope you've more to tell us than that!"
Madine turned to him, his look causing the Bothan to shiver slightly. "Yes," he said through his teeth. He turned back to the committee. "I've checked over the records of the attack and I can tell you that this is a species we haven't encountered before called the Ssi-Ruuk
"How do you know that?" Quedlifu demanded. "If we've never encountered them how do you know who they are?"
Madine swiveled a little as he leaned back in his chair. "My people have been going through the Imperial Database, and apparently there had been limited secret dealings between them and the Empire."
"What kind of dealings?" Ackbar asked.
Madine sighed a little and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers. "You remember the mystery of Bakura?"
A hush descended over the room. Several years before while the war continued with the Empire, horrific news came of the planet Bakura. Apparently the entire population had vanished without a trace, leaving nothing but an empty world behind, a ghost planet. No one ever knew what had happened, or so it had been claimed. "The Ssi-Ruuk?" Ackbar asked.
Madine nodded. "By order of the Emperor himself. The Ssi-Ruuk were given permission to abduct the entire world in exchange for technology."
"It seems that when the Emperor's evil couldn't have been worse," Mon Mothma said, "he manages to outdo himself once again."
Madine nodded. "He knew the outrage this could cause, and we only found reference in his private records. Only a handful of people knew the Ssi-Ruuk even existed."
"Quite strange that they would choose now of all times to launch an attack," Dx'ono commented.
"I thought so as well," Madine replied, "And I believe I have the answer." A hologram appeared in the center of the conference table as he continued. "The Ssi-Ruuk homeworld is located here," he said as a single planet magnified. "Now, the Ssi-Ruuk believe that if they die away from their home planet they will suffer some terrible fate." He leaned forward even more, wanting to let the statement sink in before he revealed the last piece. "Here's a scan of the planet as of this morning." The planet was replaced by an asteroid field.
"You mean..." Fey’lya began, but didn't finish; it seemed clear to everyone what had happened.
"Yes," Madine nodded, "The planet's been completely blown away."
"Impossible!" Dx'ono said. "Impossible! The only thing that could do that would be... would be..."
"Yes," Ackbar replied, "A Death Star. And the only one in existence is in the hands of the Borg."
"Say that were true," Mon Mothma replied, "Why are these Ssi-Ruuk attacking us?"
"We're not sure," General Madine admitted. "Our best guess is that they think we're responsible. There's evidence that suggests that the Emperor threatened to turn the Death Star against their homeworld if they refused to withdraw after Bakura. They might think he destroyed their world, and now are trying to take their revenge on him by attacking the Empire."
"Which is now the Republic," Mon Mothma finished wearily. She thought for a moment. "How did the Borg know about the Ssi-Ruuk?" she asked.
Madine shifted a little in his seat. "We don't know that either. As I said, only a small handful knew of their existence at all, none of whom were ever assimilated. I don't see how they could have learned of its existence."
"This is all very interesting," Fey'lya remarked, "But it doesn't change the fact that they're mad and need to be stopped."
"And how do you propose to do that?" Ackbar replied. "Our fleet is strained to the limits keeping track of the Borg."
"What good is it to monitor the Borg if the Ssi-Ruuk destroy us?" Fey'lya demanded. "We must do something about them now!"
"I'm inclined to agree," Mon Mothma said. "I understand the situation with the Borg," she said before Ackbar could say anything, "But we mustn't allow the Ssi-Ruuk to destroy our people."
"That's probably exactly what the Borg wanted us to do," Ackbar insisted.
"Don't be foolish," Fey'lya said. "Everyone knows the Borg are tactical idiots."
"Spoken like an expert," Ackbar grumbled.
"Nevertheless," Mon Mothma said, "We must do something about the Ssi-Ruuk." She turned her attention to Ackbar. "Is Rogue Squadron ready? We need to get help from our Milky Way allies if we're to triumph against both enemies."
"Commander Antilles and his group will be launching tomorrow," Ackbar replied. "And I have every confidence in their success."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Wedge watched as the final checks were being completed on his X-Wing. Everyone knew that this ship was going into a serious combat zone, and every instrument, every switch had to be checked and checked again, because a moment's failure could mean life and death on this mission. Fortunately, everything had checked out, if only there had been more good news.
"How many more attacks?" Wedge asked Corran Horn who'd finally come down to join the rest of the squadron.
"Four since this morning," Horn said wearily. "The fleet beat them back at Clack'dor VII but the other three we were unprepared for. Looks like they'll be sending in more ships." He shook his head. "I don't like this boss."
"You're not the only one," Wedge said, fitting his flight helmet into place. "But we've got our job, and we've got to let others do theirs."
The two slid into the cockpits of their X-Wings, the final checklist complete. From that landing platform twelve of Incom's finest lifted into the atmosphere and raced for high orbit. In no time they were free of the planet and traveling through hyperspace, to face what could well be their most difficult mission ever. Running a blockade was dangerous; they'd done it before, and it wasn't pretty. Wedge just hoped one squadron could pull this off.
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Taar had never had much experience with Cardassians. During the war he’d spent almost all his time fighting the Borg in the Delta Quadrant, and didn’t get to that area of space too often, but he had had enough to determine they were a despicable lot. They were always shady and untrustworthy, and like many species they assumed everyone else was like them, making them quite a difficult group to deal with. The thought of spending time discussing a trade with a Cardassian didn’t sound terribly appealing to Delric Taar, but he was forever bound to his duty, and with only mild disgust walked into the establishment, whatever it was. A few quick seconds revealed the only Cardassian in the place, Mr. Garak.
“Ah,” said Garak, rising to his feet as Taar approached, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever show.”
Taar grumbled a little as he stepped self-consciously up to the table and took a seat as Garak did the same. “Do you enjoy attracting attention to yourself?” he asked as the Cardassian sat, his small grin succeeding in annoying Taar even more.
“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable,” Garak said with a note of sympathy, which obviously meant that he felt none. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced?”
“No we haven’t,” Taar replied. “Can we skip the pleasantries and get down to business?”
“Whatever you’d prefer colonel,” Garak replied dismissively.
"Good, now what are you offering, Mr. Garak?”
“What I always offer,” Garak replied with a voice that grated Taar, “Information. Something I think the Empire will particularly value.”
“You wish materials as per our usual arrangement?” Taar asked. During the course of his studies for this meeting he’d learned that the Empire was supplying the Cardassians, at least Garak’s group of Cardassians, with supplies and weapons in exchange for information. He hoped Garak would be reasonable with his demands; the construction of the fleet was putting a strain on the Imperial budget.
“Actual no,” Garak replied. “I want a piece of information in return.”
Taar shook his head. “You are well aware that the Empire will not give technical or military secrets away to anyone. Do not test me Garak.”
“I’m afraid you misunderstand, colonel,” hitting the word in such a way as to maximize his irritation for Taar. “I have reason to believe the Empire has access to some information which can be very useful to me, without compromising your security in the slightest.” He explained briefly what he wanted.
“I suppose that can be arranged,” Taar replied. “Don’t expect us to be terribly helpful with this.”
“Anything would be helpful at this point,” Garak replied.
“What are you offering in exchange?” Taar asked.
Garak pulled a datapad of some kind out from under the table. “Information on a Federation weapon.”
“What kind of weapon?” Taar asked suspiciously.
“Do we have an agreement?” Garak asked in a coy manner.
“Yes,” Taar finally said. The Federation had emerged as one of the major powers of this galaxy, and any weapon they may possess might be of tactical importance to the Empire.
“Good,” Garak replied, tapping on the datapad. “I don’t have any specifics, but I can tell you that the Federation is developing a large-scale weapon to be used against the Borg. It’s a secret project that involves some of the highest levels of Starfleet.”
“What kind of weapon?” Taar asked.
“I’m not sure,” Garak admitted. “I do know that Deep Space 13 is somehow involved, and that the most important members include an engineer named Lt. Reginald Barclay, Amb. Leia Organa Solo of the Republic, and Amb. Jean-luc Picard.” His grin widened a little. “Ambassador to the Republic, if you may recall.”
Taar thought a little about it. An interesting prospect to be sure, especially considering it would be used against the Borg. Whatever it was would definitely benefit the Empire, if only to help them in their war against them. “Are you saying that the Republic is giving technology to the Federation to build this weapon?”
Garak held up his hands to show he was implying nothing. “I provide information; it’s your job to reach conclusions. However, I can tell you that Amb. Solo inspected the progress on Deep Space 13 a week ago, and that Amb. Picard, despite being thousands of light-years away, has been in constant communication with the members of this project, and,” he added with obvious satisfaction, “he will be coming to personally inspect the project in the coming weeks.”
Taar considered the implications of what Garak had to say as he returned to the Chimaera. It was definitely something the Empire should get involved in, he decided, not only to protect themselves against the Borg, but also to ensure that this weapon wasn’t used against the Empire. By the time he reached the holoprojector he’d made up his mind.
“A superweapon against the Borg?” Thrawn said with only a slight air of surprise; actually more curiosity than anything else.
“So he claims admiral,” Taar replied. “But I think we’ve enough evidence to consider this a real possibility, and something we should definitely learn more about.”
Thrawn nodded thoughtfully. “Picard is with the Enterprise, correct? Captain Riker will not withdraw the flagship just to return Picard to Federation Space, he’ll use a shuttle, runabout, or a small starship for that to maintain his presence on the front lines.” Thrawn thought some more. “Yes. Colonel, I want you to intercept Picard and bring him to me. This weapon, whatever it is, could be the key to Imperial victory over the Borg, and we can’t afford to put our fate in the hands of Starfleet. I want you to personally oversee this operation.” And his image faded away.
Once again Thrawn was throwing a new assignment before him, Taar thought as he returned to his current quarters on the Chimaera. Planning the capture of a single vessel in a situation like this was a logistically complex problem, but again Thrawn had given it to him. What was the reason? he wondered. Regardless, he resigned himself to his task, and proceeded to lay out his plan with all the diligence necessary. As always, his duty to the Empire was the most important, although the fact that this could lead to the destruction of the Borg didn’t hurt matters any.
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The Ssi-Ruuk bombardments continued despite the Republic's best efforts. It seemed that with their world gone they'd lost all sense of fear and mercy. Senator Ackbar read the reports with a great weariness, wondering where everything had gone wrong. How could they have reached this point, fought so hard, sacrificed so much, clawed their way tooth and nail to a final victory only to now stand poised between these two enemies, both intent on annihilating them? To have everything they'd been working for fall now, after all that, it was unthinkable.
Yes, he thought, unthinkable that I should stand by and allow it to happen. After much deliberation he reached his decision, although not an easy one. It would mean the end of his career to be sure, but he was different from the others on that council; he wanted to serve the Republic, and right now the best place to do that would not be from a conference chair.
By the end of business that day, Ackbar was senator no more. He was a New Republic Admiral, ready to do his part against this new enemy. Whether or not it would make a difference he wasn't sure, but he knew in his heart of hearts that this was the best chance to save what he believed in.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“So,” Picard said as he looked at the streaming characters on the display, “This is it.”
“Yes sir,” Laforge replied, tapping one of the button on the display. The code shifted off to a box in the lower right corner, allowing a diagram to appear on the screen of what looked like some kind of circuit. “We ran over eight simulations on it. If anything can destroy the Borg, this thing can.”
“The program is designed to infect the cortical implants of the drones first,” Seven announced as she inserted an isolinear chip into her tricorder and began typing instructions. “This will interfere with the Borg’s ability to adapt. From there it will spread to the communications relay, preventing them from communicating, and finally disabling the navigational controls of their ships. It should cause the collapse of the entire collective within hours of insertion.” She pulled out the isolinear chip and held it up for a few seconds, then passing it to Picard. He took it delicately in his hand and looked at it with mixed emotions.
“The power to bring down a civilization,” he said quietly. “And it’s sitting in the palm of my hand.” He closed his eyes and he gently squeezed it in his palm. “Thousands of centuries of development, ground to a halt by this. Wiped out in the blink of an eye.” He surprised himself. “Do I have that right?”
The group was quiet, but Luke finally spoke. “Ambassador, I commend you on your compassion. But you and I know first hand that the Borg are incapable of such emotion themselves. You know they won’t stop until they’ve destroyed or assimilated everything. It’s a sad burden placed on your shoulders, but nevertheless we must continue. We can’t allow the evil that is the Borg to continue to threaten the galaxy; and if we can’t stop them with diplomacy and reason, then they have forced this choice upon us.”
Laforge put his hand on Picard’s shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do Jean-luc,” he said sympathetically.
Picard nodded quietly. “Of course. Thank you, both of you. That momentary loss in judgment could have spelt the end of the Federation.”
“Completely understandable,” Luke replied. “You’d be less than human if you didn’t feel some regret over this. Believe me, no one wants a peaceful solution more than I do, but the Borg have forced our hands; we must wipe them out.”
Picard shook his head in agreement, then turned to Laforge. “How’s the array coming?”
“They met a bit of a snag,” Geordi said, leaning against the table. “Probably another three weeks until they’re ready.” He looked at the others uncertainly, and then continued speaking to Picard. “There is one other thing we need to discuss. Borg security is tighter than we thought. Now we can get through it, but there’s a catch: we can’t use a computer to do it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Despite their dependence on machinery,” Seven said, “The Borg still communicate using their living minds. A computer cannot interface with the collective.”
Picard was somewhat surprised. “But, Data...”
“Data’s not a computer,” Laforge pointed out. “His positronic brain was close enough to be able to penetrate, although just barely. And since he’s not available, we have only one choice; we need a person to connect to the collective.”
Picard nodded, but he didn’t like it. His own experience with the voices of the Borg had been unsettling, he didn’t like the thought of someone having to force their way in. “I see...”
“I have volunteered for the procedure,” Seven remarked. “I’m the only member of Starfleet who has experience with the Borg Collective Consciousness.
“No,” Picard said shaking his head. “No, your place is here. If there’s a problem, if something goes wrong, we’ll need your expertise on the Borg to fight this war.” He sighed. “I’ll go.”
“Ambassador?” Geordi replied, clearly surprised by his former captain’s decision. “Are you certain this is what you want to do?”
“I don’t want to do it Geordi,” Picard remarked, “But I have to. I’ll finish this.”
Seven looked uncertain. "Ambassador," she said. "May I have a moment?" The others left to see to other matters. "I cannot allow you to do this."
"My mind's made up, Seven."
"Your experience with the Collective was brief," Seven insisted. "And was over ten years ago-"
"And you've been experiencing psychological instability related to the Borg," Picard shot back. He paused, then held up his hands in a placating gesture. "Seven, your recent problems can all be traced directly back to the engrams I sent you."
"It was not your fault."
"Seven," he said kindly, "I may not be your captain, but I'm still your friend, and I can't put you in harm's way again."
"I do not need you to protect me from the Borg," Seven said with resentment.
"No, you don't," Picard said. "But I want to, don't you understand? Friends protect each other."
"Then why can't I protect you?"
"Because I outrank you in this project," he said with a smile. "So I win." He read her expression. "Seven," he said softly, "you don't owe me anything."
"I assimilated you," Seven said with shame in her voice. "That you can even do this is my fault-"
"Look at me," he said firmly, and she looked into his face. "It wasn't your fault," he said in a clear voice. "You had no control. It was the Collective that harmed me, the same Collective that harmed you. Don't let what happened get in the way of our friendship."
Seven's jaw trembled and surprisingly she pulled him close and embraced him. "Be careful, Jean-luc," she said with tears in her voice.
"I will," he said. "And if all goes well, we'll both be sleeping a lot better at night."
Chuck
-
Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11937
- Joined: 2003-04-10 03:45pm
- Location: Cheshire, England
so very trueCrazedwraith wrote:Excellant. I'm noticing all the little clues about the borg and Annasi this time through. Although its easier when you remember what the revelation is.
CERC
Sum Senatus
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
-
Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Part XVIII
Twelve X-Wings emerged from hyperspace into what was probably the most intense combat situation they'd ever faced. As was expected, the area was under patrol by the Borg; Cubes Wedge noted with a sinking feeling. If it was a sphere maybe they'd have a chance, but against those he knew they didn't have a prayer. With no chance to fight them, their only hope was to just outmaneuver them and get to the wormhole in time. It was a race, but hopefully the snub fighters would have the edge.
"Deja vu huh boss?" Tycho remarked over the comm. He and Wedge were the only members of Rogue Squadron to be part of the Rebel fleet that raced past a Borg Cube and into the Milky Way years before. They'd succeeded then with few casualties, but then they'd had help from star cruisers, and there hadn't been two Cubes.
"Hopefully we'll be as lucky as that time," Wedge remarked. "Rogue group, stick with your wingman, and remember: do not deviate from your group. Your first priority is the wormhole." It was a sad fact, but he knew that they probably weren't all going to make it, and in order to ensure the best chance of success he'd given the Rogues strict orders: you stop only for your wingman. The last thing they needed was for the entire squadron to become trapped trying to rescue a single fighter. The stakes were too high to take that chance; without help from the Federation, the Romulans, or the Klingons, the Republic could very well fall.
Wedge noted the distant on his sensor panel as they approached, then pushed the ship to full throttle, trying to shave as much time off this run as he could. The Cubes continued to grow, and he recalled briefly that overwhelming sensation he'd felt on approaching the Death Star; you think your mind can grasp it, but when you actually watch something that big coming at you, you just can't help but be overwhelmed, to feel so insignificant. He felt his palm start to sweat just a little. "We're approaching their tractor beam range," he remarked. "Evasive maneuvers."
Immediately the twelve ships broke formation, their pairs corkscrewing off in various directions as the emerald beams of the Borg sought them out. The channel was alive with voices as the wingmen communicated their status to each other, trying to stay together and yet avoid the Borg. He was drifting closer to the Cube he noticed, but it didn't matter as he dipped and jerked his ship trying to avoid them. Closer... he nearly jumped as the edge of the beam grazed his X-Wing, knocking it off course briefly. He straightened out and avoided a second attempt as he rushed across its three kilometer surface.
"You alright?" Corran Horn asked.
"Nothing to worry about," Wedge said through gritted teeth. The Borg weren't making this easy for them.
"Mayday Mayday!" came the call over the comm and Wedge knew what it meant. "Pash help me!!"
His display showed an X-Wing firmly held in the grip of a Borg tractor beam. Ryshati's from the looks of things. He noticed the other X-Wings and quickly intervened. "You have your orders!" he said painfully. "Pash help her out, the rest of you stay on course."
While the other ten X-Wings continued their journey a single one approached the other X-Wing. They knew the stakes going in, but face to face with the Borg was still a terrifying concept. Would Ryshati detonate one of her torpedoes rather than be taken by the collective? Wedge wondered if he would. But he watched the pair of bluish white streaks fly into the emitter array and shred it, offering the first bit of good news. Maybe they would make it....
"Pash!" Ryshati said as she got caught in another beam.
"Damn," Corran said over the comm. "What do we do boss?"
"You know what we do," Wedge said with fury at the situation. "On course to the wormhole, absolutely no turning back."
"Come on Wedge, we can't leave her!"
Wedge wanted to pound the console in frustration. "Proceed at full throttle to the wormhole! That's an order captain!" There was silence, then Corran's X-Wing twisted out of formation and ran back. "Captain! Goddammit, get back here!"
"Sorry boss," Corran said, pushing his fighter on towards the Cube. Seconds later, Gavin and his wingmate did likewise, and Wedge hit the console in frustration.
"Rogues," he said firmly, "through the wormhole and rendezvous at Romulus, per your orders. Anyone who turns back gets a swift kick in the port, you hear me?" He turned back, hoping he could stop this before they got themselves killed, but it was too late. Both Gavin and his wingman were caught in a Borg energy beam, and went up in an expanding white cloud of superheated matter. "Corran!"
"I've got it, boss," Corran answered. He let out a pair of torpedoes and corkscrewed up and away. Wedge watched the torpedoes as they raced towards the Cube, only to explode as the Borg intercepted them. "Damn! Coming around again."
"It's too late," Wedge said, watching the X-Wing vanish into the Cube. "To the wormhole, captain." The two X-Wings formed up and rushed through it, emerging in the Milky Way. There were more Borg ships, but they quickly jumped into hyperspace. Wedge pulled his gloves off and wiped his face, then tossed them down on his lap. "Captain," he said firmly, "you and I need to have a conversation when we get back."
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His ship pulled unnoticed behind the fleet of ships as they continued their trip through this portion of space, looking for Borg ships. Looking for Borg, he thought with a smile, they have guts, he had to admit that. He wondered if he’d see them floating through the vacuum of space.
This Federation was proving to be a most interesting diversion. A new ship named “Enterprise” was here, probably to replace the one lost during that battle near the anomaly. He smiled despite himself. That was such a funny thing to see, this tiny ship continually firing its pitiful weapons at the cube, refusing to withdraw despite orders and common sense. Wonder if this one’ll meet the same fate, he thought to himself as he made a minor course correction to remain with the group. With the way the Borg were moving, that didn’t seem very likely. The Federation was interesting, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be watching them for much longer. He made a few nav checks; probably be a good time to see what the Borg's new toy was up to.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Still nothing, Luke thought as he began to emerge from his Force meditation. The Borg mind remained too complex to penetrate. He wondered how Picard would do within that mind, and wished he could find some way to assist with this. They were such a terrible threat, and he had to be certain that they were stopped, especially with the recent news that Wedge had brought of the state of affairs back home. If they could get the Borg out of the way then they could focus on these new aliens.
This probably wasn't good for him. He'd been telling the truth when he told Seven why he'd run that program, but something surprised and unnerved him. There was a small amount of... satisfaction, in destroying them. The sight of those blank gray faces and mutilated bodies pushed his buttons. The Force was all about life, but these creatures were so devoid of it, and they destroyed it everywhere they went. He didn't hate them, but in his mind the face of those drones was gradually replacing that of the Emperor as the visage of evil.
As he was almost finished withdrawing he felt something. He was caught off guard and returned to it with a little concentration. Curious, he thought. A mind, ancient, hidden. He could detect no thoughts or emotions, just a vague presence, and it was nearby. “Captain,” he said quickly as he activated his communicator, “Any ships in our vicinity?
“No,” came a reply from a confused Riker. “Why do you ask?”
Luke felt again. There was definitely someone out there. “We’re being followed,” he said as he set his jaw and headed for the door.
“You sure?” Riker asked quickly.
Luke stepped into the hallway and moved with deliberate steps towards the turbolift doors. “Absolutely.”
Immediately the Yellow Alert lights came on as Luke stepped into the lift and headed for the bridge. It opened a few seconds later and Riker got up and looked at him as he stormed down the walkway towards him.
“Cloaked ship?” Riker asked as Luke reached his point and they both checked the viewer.
“Must be,” Luke replied. “Borg don’t use cloaks do they?”
“No, but with what I’ve seen lately I wouldn’t put it past them.” Riker was visibly unnerved by the news that the fleet was being followed. “Where exactly is it?”
Luke stretched out to focus on the mind as best as he could. “One two five mark four,” he said finally, “About a hundred kilometers away.”
“Captain,” Borui said from her chair to the captain’s left, “I’m afraid I don’t sense anything.”
“It’s just a presence,” Luke said. “Very weak.” He returned his focus to the bridge. “Captain, I’ve spent time learning to use Vulcan mind techniques to enhance my own abilities, that’s probably why I can feel it and she can’t. I only noticed it by happenstance in the first place.”
“Captain,” Seven said. “We’ve seen evidence of a cloaked vessel participating in the battle against the Borg at Yarval Outpost, one which destroyed a Borg Sphere in a single volley. If this is that ship, it may be a threat to the fleet.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Riker said as he mulled it over quickly. “For all we know it’s a Romulan Warbird.”
“Captain, there’s only a single mind on board, and it’s not a Romulan,” Luke said. “And if it were Romulans, Borui and any other telepath in the area would have detected that many minds.”
“All right,” Riker replied after a little thought. “Let’s try creating a particle net. Cloaked or not, it’s still matter and will break the chain, we can at least confirm it’s a real ship.”
As soon as the order was given he felt the movement. “The ship’s leaving,” he said quickly. “Pretty fast too.” The signal faded into the distance. “I’m not sure, but I think he was aware of what we were up to.”
Riker sat down, fidgeting as he thought. “I don’t like this,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Has he been here before?” he finally asked Luke.
“I haven’t felt him until now,” Luke said, “But like I said, it was only chance that I felt him at all just now.”
“Do you think you’d know if he came back again?” Riker replied.
“Yes,” Luke said after some thought. “Now that I’m aware of his presence I’ll probably tell if he returns.”
“Good, keep me informed.” Riker stroked his beard a little as he thought. “I don’t like the thought of being spied upon.”
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The planet of Coruscant was a gleaming silver jewel in space, brilliantly reflecting the light of its distant sun on one side, a glorious pattern of lights across its darkened side. The center of the Republic was a definite marvel to all who came, except for its most recent visitors.
“Madame President!” the aide shouted as he sprinted into her office. “The Borg! The Borg are here!”
“What?” Mon Mothma said in shock as she came around from behind her desk to rush into the adjoining room. She watched in horror as ten Borg Cubes grew larger on the screens that were plastered around the room. In the center of the conference table a hologram was showing their position relative to the planet. She had feared this, but she hadn’t actually expected it, not without warning like this.
“Assemble the council,” she ordered as she watched their space defenses move into action, but the Borg seemed oblivious to them. After just a few minutes one had been destroyed, and it seemed apparent that there wasn’t much time left before those defenses would be gone as well. Of course, they had their planetary shield, but it was plain to see that Coruscant was not a self-sufficient planet, and a Borg blockade could lead to planet-wide starvation.
“The third fleet is in route Madam President,” someone announced. “They should arrive in less than an hour.”
“Let’s hope they’re enough,” Mon Mothma replied as the other senators came rushing in to the makeshift war room.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Fey’lya demanded. “Where are our ships?! Why are they not defending the heart of the Republic?!”
“They’re off fighting the Ssi-Ruuk as you had demanded,” Mon Mothma replied.
“If you’re trying to blame this on me...” the Bothan demanded.
“I assign no blame,” Mon Mothma replied. “But I do need your help. Under section fourteen of the New Republic charter I’m asking that the reigns of government be transferred to myself for the duration of the crisis.” Another space platform exploded. “I’ll let that speak for me,” she said.
“I support it,” Quedlifu said quickly. “I hope you have some idea of what you’re doing.”
“As do I,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet, but she knew that she couldn’t afford to have to stop and debate every decision with the council. Under section fourteen she could make all decisions without question to ensure that everything was done as quickly as possible, but it required a two-thirds majority of the committee to do it. Fortunately they saw the reasoning, and within a minute she was formally in control of the entire Republic. “How much time until the fleet arrives?”
“Fifty-one minutes,” the aid reported.
“I want a direct line to the defense network now,” she said. “And have the planetary systems maintainer standing by as well, we may need to divert power or shut down city services during the crisis.”
There was a cheer as one of the Borg Cubes exploded, but unfortunately it was premature. Within minutes the last of the space defense force was destroyed or assimilated, leaving the center of the Republic, the planet that had stood a thousand generations as the headquarters of the galaxy, vulnerable to these aliens.
“Forty-five minutes,” the aid reported again as they continued to watch the circling Cubes with horror.
“We will persevere,” Mon Mothma insisted.
“Another ship has dropped out of hyperspace,” someone reported. There was a stunned silence. “Oh no,” he said in horror.
“What is..... it....” Mon Mothma began, and she saw it. The Pyramid grew on the screen, a horrible triangle in space that they knew meant this situation had gone from very bad to unimaginably worse.
“Sithspawn,” Fey’lya said in subdued awe. “What do we do now?”
“Message coming in.” They knew what it would say, but it played anyway.
“We are the Borg. You will lower your shield and surrender, that we may add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. If you do not comply we will destroy your world. Resistance is futile.”
The silence was unbearable. How could it have come to this? they wondered. Capital of the republic, so worn down that their enemies were demanding their surrender.
“Lower the shields,” Dx'ono said.
“We can’t do that,” Mon Mothma replied.
“You heard them,” Fey’lya almost shouted, “They’ll destroy us!”
“If we lower it they’ll assimilate us,” Mon Mothma replied. “At least with the shield up we stand a chance.”
“Alderaan had a shield!!” Fey’lya cried. “Look what good it did them!”
“This isn’t Alderaan and that isn’t a Death Star,” Mon Mothma replied. “Don’t you see, they want us to lower the shields because they want to take us alive. Coruscant has representatives from across the galaxy; with us the Borg will know how to defeat every planet in the Republic, we can’t do it.”
“You’ll be killing countless lives,” Dx’ono insisted.
“It is not your decision to make any more,” Mon Mothma replied. “If we can improve our shields, direct them towards the tetrahedron instead of surrounding the entire planet, perhaps they can hold it off, at least until the fleet arrives.”
“You’re gambling with our lives!” Fey’lya insisted.
“We lower the shield and we lose anyway,” Mon Mothma insisted. “At least we have a chance with the shields up.”
“Forty minutes.”
The voice of the Borg returned. “Lower your shield and surrender.”
“Do what they said!” Quedlifu yelled.
“Give the shields all the energy they can,” she ordered, filling them in on what they were trying to accomplish. “The Death Star took time to recharge. If we can withstand one blast we should make it.”
“Impossible!”
“Fey’lya,” she replied, her reputation of diplomacy and even-temperedness pushed aside at this moment, “Shut - up!”
“There’s a power build up in the ship,” a nervous aide reported.
“This is your final warning,” the Borg said. “Lower your shield and surrender, or we will destroy you.”
“Get ready,” she told the technicians, officials, and soldiers who were all listening intently on what to do during this hour of fear.
“They’re firing!”
Three thin green beams extended from the corners of the Pyramid to meet just above the final point. From there a beam lanced through the point, growing powerful enough to shatter worlds, as it now attempted to do.
It’s a simple fact that in order to stop energy, you need to use energy, which is the principle behind a shield. In this case, the energy produced by the hypermatter reactor of the Borg ship was being pitted against the energy production of the entire planet, the engineers having directed the shield to cover an area of only a few thousand square kilometers instead of surrounding the whole planet. The Death Star, either of them, could have broken through, but the Borg had designed theirs with a much smaller reactor. Instead the beam terminated and the planet was spared, but unfortunately the shields were now down.
“Get them back up!” Mon Mothma insisted as she saw the Borg approach the planet, ready to scoop up and consume the beings and technology of this world.
“They’re trying,” was the report. They watched in horror as several beams emerged from the Borg ships, cutting into the urban surface of the planet and lifting chunks up out of the atmosphere.
“Try harder.”
“Thirty-five minutes.”
They watched helplessly as the Borg began carving up their planet, waiting for their turn. Suddenly the beam terminated, and they watched as several thousands tons fell out of the sky back to the planet.
“The shield’s back up,” came the report, “But very weak. Apparently some of the emitters were damaged.”
“Get to work on them then,” she ordered. “Who knows how much time we have left.”
“Thirty-one minutes.”
“Perhaps we should lower the shields,” Gavrisom suggested. “The Borg won’t have assimilated all that much of the planet in that time.”
“But we don’t know how long the battle will take,” Mon Mothma replied. “We can’t take the risk.”
“The risk?!” Dx’ono said in disbelief. “You’re risking all our lives!”
“We have no choice,” she insisted. “We’ve got to-“
The beam came suddenly, crumpling the shield with ease this time. It cracked through the hard armored shell of the planet like an egg and drilled through the rock, seared through the mantle, and pierced the core. And then it exploded. Twenty-five thousand years this world had been the center of the galaxy. For a lot longer than that, it had been a home. Now it was an expanding void, nothing. The jewel had shattered, and the Borg raced away from the shattered façade. A half-hour later the fleet arrived, finding nothing left to save. The world was dead; the question was whether the Republic had died with it.
Twelve X-Wings emerged from hyperspace into what was probably the most intense combat situation they'd ever faced. As was expected, the area was under patrol by the Borg; Cubes Wedge noted with a sinking feeling. If it was a sphere maybe they'd have a chance, but against those he knew they didn't have a prayer. With no chance to fight them, their only hope was to just outmaneuver them and get to the wormhole in time. It was a race, but hopefully the snub fighters would have the edge.
"Deja vu huh boss?" Tycho remarked over the comm. He and Wedge were the only members of Rogue Squadron to be part of the Rebel fleet that raced past a Borg Cube and into the Milky Way years before. They'd succeeded then with few casualties, but then they'd had help from star cruisers, and there hadn't been two Cubes.
"Hopefully we'll be as lucky as that time," Wedge remarked. "Rogue group, stick with your wingman, and remember: do not deviate from your group. Your first priority is the wormhole." It was a sad fact, but he knew that they probably weren't all going to make it, and in order to ensure the best chance of success he'd given the Rogues strict orders: you stop only for your wingman. The last thing they needed was for the entire squadron to become trapped trying to rescue a single fighter. The stakes were too high to take that chance; without help from the Federation, the Romulans, or the Klingons, the Republic could very well fall.
Wedge noted the distant on his sensor panel as they approached, then pushed the ship to full throttle, trying to shave as much time off this run as he could. The Cubes continued to grow, and he recalled briefly that overwhelming sensation he'd felt on approaching the Death Star; you think your mind can grasp it, but when you actually watch something that big coming at you, you just can't help but be overwhelmed, to feel so insignificant. He felt his palm start to sweat just a little. "We're approaching their tractor beam range," he remarked. "Evasive maneuvers."
Immediately the twelve ships broke formation, their pairs corkscrewing off in various directions as the emerald beams of the Borg sought them out. The channel was alive with voices as the wingmen communicated their status to each other, trying to stay together and yet avoid the Borg. He was drifting closer to the Cube he noticed, but it didn't matter as he dipped and jerked his ship trying to avoid them. Closer... he nearly jumped as the edge of the beam grazed his X-Wing, knocking it off course briefly. He straightened out and avoided a second attempt as he rushed across its three kilometer surface.
"You alright?" Corran Horn asked.
"Nothing to worry about," Wedge said through gritted teeth. The Borg weren't making this easy for them.
"Mayday Mayday!" came the call over the comm and Wedge knew what it meant. "Pash help me!!"
His display showed an X-Wing firmly held in the grip of a Borg tractor beam. Ryshati's from the looks of things. He noticed the other X-Wings and quickly intervened. "You have your orders!" he said painfully. "Pash help her out, the rest of you stay on course."
While the other ten X-Wings continued their journey a single one approached the other X-Wing. They knew the stakes going in, but face to face with the Borg was still a terrifying concept. Would Ryshati detonate one of her torpedoes rather than be taken by the collective? Wedge wondered if he would. But he watched the pair of bluish white streaks fly into the emitter array and shred it, offering the first bit of good news. Maybe they would make it....
"Pash!" Ryshati said as she got caught in another beam.
"Damn," Corran said over the comm. "What do we do boss?"
"You know what we do," Wedge said with fury at the situation. "On course to the wormhole, absolutely no turning back."
"Come on Wedge, we can't leave her!"
Wedge wanted to pound the console in frustration. "Proceed at full throttle to the wormhole! That's an order captain!" There was silence, then Corran's X-Wing twisted out of formation and ran back. "Captain! Goddammit, get back here!"
"Sorry boss," Corran said, pushing his fighter on towards the Cube. Seconds later, Gavin and his wingmate did likewise, and Wedge hit the console in frustration.
"Rogues," he said firmly, "through the wormhole and rendezvous at Romulus, per your orders. Anyone who turns back gets a swift kick in the port, you hear me?" He turned back, hoping he could stop this before they got themselves killed, but it was too late. Both Gavin and his wingman were caught in a Borg energy beam, and went up in an expanding white cloud of superheated matter. "Corran!"
"I've got it, boss," Corran answered. He let out a pair of torpedoes and corkscrewed up and away. Wedge watched the torpedoes as they raced towards the Cube, only to explode as the Borg intercepted them. "Damn! Coming around again."
"It's too late," Wedge said, watching the X-Wing vanish into the Cube. "To the wormhole, captain." The two X-Wings formed up and rushed through it, emerging in the Milky Way. There were more Borg ships, but they quickly jumped into hyperspace. Wedge pulled his gloves off and wiped his face, then tossed them down on his lap. "Captain," he said firmly, "you and I need to have a conversation when we get back."
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His ship pulled unnoticed behind the fleet of ships as they continued their trip through this portion of space, looking for Borg ships. Looking for Borg, he thought with a smile, they have guts, he had to admit that. He wondered if he’d see them floating through the vacuum of space.
This Federation was proving to be a most interesting diversion. A new ship named “Enterprise” was here, probably to replace the one lost during that battle near the anomaly. He smiled despite himself. That was such a funny thing to see, this tiny ship continually firing its pitiful weapons at the cube, refusing to withdraw despite orders and common sense. Wonder if this one’ll meet the same fate, he thought to himself as he made a minor course correction to remain with the group. With the way the Borg were moving, that didn’t seem very likely. The Federation was interesting, but he had a feeling that he wouldn’t be watching them for much longer. He made a few nav checks; probably be a good time to see what the Borg's new toy was up to.
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Still nothing, Luke thought as he began to emerge from his Force meditation. The Borg mind remained too complex to penetrate. He wondered how Picard would do within that mind, and wished he could find some way to assist with this. They were such a terrible threat, and he had to be certain that they were stopped, especially with the recent news that Wedge had brought of the state of affairs back home. If they could get the Borg out of the way then they could focus on these new aliens.
This probably wasn't good for him. He'd been telling the truth when he told Seven why he'd run that program, but something surprised and unnerved him. There was a small amount of... satisfaction, in destroying them. The sight of those blank gray faces and mutilated bodies pushed his buttons. The Force was all about life, but these creatures were so devoid of it, and they destroyed it everywhere they went. He didn't hate them, but in his mind the face of those drones was gradually replacing that of the Emperor as the visage of evil.
As he was almost finished withdrawing he felt something. He was caught off guard and returned to it with a little concentration. Curious, he thought. A mind, ancient, hidden. He could detect no thoughts or emotions, just a vague presence, and it was nearby. “Captain,” he said quickly as he activated his communicator, “Any ships in our vicinity?
“No,” came a reply from a confused Riker. “Why do you ask?”
Luke felt again. There was definitely someone out there. “We’re being followed,” he said as he set his jaw and headed for the door.
“You sure?” Riker asked quickly.
Luke stepped into the hallway and moved with deliberate steps towards the turbolift doors. “Absolutely.”
Immediately the Yellow Alert lights came on as Luke stepped into the lift and headed for the bridge. It opened a few seconds later and Riker got up and looked at him as he stormed down the walkway towards him.
“Cloaked ship?” Riker asked as Luke reached his point and they both checked the viewer.
“Must be,” Luke replied. “Borg don’t use cloaks do they?”
“No, but with what I’ve seen lately I wouldn’t put it past them.” Riker was visibly unnerved by the news that the fleet was being followed. “Where exactly is it?”
Luke stretched out to focus on the mind as best as he could. “One two five mark four,” he said finally, “About a hundred kilometers away.”
“Captain,” Borui said from her chair to the captain’s left, “I’m afraid I don’t sense anything.”
“It’s just a presence,” Luke said. “Very weak.” He returned his focus to the bridge. “Captain, I’ve spent time learning to use Vulcan mind techniques to enhance my own abilities, that’s probably why I can feel it and she can’t. I only noticed it by happenstance in the first place.”
“Captain,” Seven said. “We’ve seen evidence of a cloaked vessel participating in the battle against the Borg at Yarval Outpost, one which destroyed a Borg Sphere in a single volley. If this is that ship, it may be a threat to the fleet.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Riker said as he mulled it over quickly. “For all we know it’s a Romulan Warbird.”
“Captain, there’s only a single mind on board, and it’s not a Romulan,” Luke said. “And if it were Romulans, Borui and any other telepath in the area would have detected that many minds.”
“All right,” Riker replied after a little thought. “Let’s try creating a particle net. Cloaked or not, it’s still matter and will break the chain, we can at least confirm it’s a real ship.”
As soon as the order was given he felt the movement. “The ship’s leaving,” he said quickly. “Pretty fast too.” The signal faded into the distance. “I’m not sure, but I think he was aware of what we were up to.”
Riker sat down, fidgeting as he thought. “I don’t like this,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “Has he been here before?” he finally asked Luke.
“I haven’t felt him until now,” Luke said, “But like I said, it was only chance that I felt him at all just now.”
“Do you think you’d know if he came back again?” Riker replied.
“Yes,” Luke said after some thought. “Now that I’m aware of his presence I’ll probably tell if he returns.”
“Good, keep me informed.” Riker stroked his beard a little as he thought. “I don’t like the thought of being spied upon.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
The planet of Coruscant was a gleaming silver jewel in space, brilliantly reflecting the light of its distant sun on one side, a glorious pattern of lights across its darkened side. The center of the Republic was a definite marvel to all who came, except for its most recent visitors.
“Madame President!” the aide shouted as he sprinted into her office. “The Borg! The Borg are here!”
“What?” Mon Mothma said in shock as she came around from behind her desk to rush into the adjoining room. She watched in horror as ten Borg Cubes grew larger on the screens that were plastered around the room. In the center of the conference table a hologram was showing their position relative to the planet. She had feared this, but she hadn’t actually expected it, not without warning like this.
“Assemble the council,” she ordered as she watched their space defenses move into action, but the Borg seemed oblivious to them. After just a few minutes one had been destroyed, and it seemed apparent that there wasn’t much time left before those defenses would be gone as well. Of course, they had their planetary shield, but it was plain to see that Coruscant was not a self-sufficient planet, and a Borg blockade could lead to planet-wide starvation.
“The third fleet is in route Madam President,” someone announced. “They should arrive in less than an hour.”
“Let’s hope they’re enough,” Mon Mothma replied as the other senators came rushing in to the makeshift war room.
“What’s the meaning of this?” Fey’lya demanded. “Where are our ships?! Why are they not defending the heart of the Republic?!”
“They’re off fighting the Ssi-Ruuk as you had demanded,” Mon Mothma replied.
“If you’re trying to blame this on me...” the Bothan demanded.
“I assign no blame,” Mon Mothma replied. “But I do need your help. Under section fourteen of the New Republic charter I’m asking that the reigns of government be transferred to myself for the duration of the crisis.” Another space platform exploded. “I’ll let that speak for me,” she said.
“I support it,” Quedlifu said quickly. “I hope you have some idea of what you’re doing.”
“As do I,” she said quietly. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do yet, but she knew that she couldn’t afford to have to stop and debate every decision with the council. Under section fourteen she could make all decisions without question to ensure that everything was done as quickly as possible, but it required a two-thirds majority of the committee to do it. Fortunately they saw the reasoning, and within a minute she was formally in control of the entire Republic. “How much time until the fleet arrives?”
“Fifty-one minutes,” the aid reported.
“I want a direct line to the defense network now,” she said. “And have the planetary systems maintainer standing by as well, we may need to divert power or shut down city services during the crisis.”
There was a cheer as one of the Borg Cubes exploded, but unfortunately it was premature. Within minutes the last of the space defense force was destroyed or assimilated, leaving the center of the Republic, the planet that had stood a thousand generations as the headquarters of the galaxy, vulnerable to these aliens.
“Forty-five minutes,” the aid reported again as they continued to watch the circling Cubes with horror.
“We will persevere,” Mon Mothma insisted.
“Another ship has dropped out of hyperspace,” someone reported. There was a stunned silence. “Oh no,” he said in horror.
“What is..... it....” Mon Mothma began, and she saw it. The Pyramid grew on the screen, a horrible triangle in space that they knew meant this situation had gone from very bad to unimaginably worse.
“Sithspawn,” Fey’lya said in subdued awe. “What do we do now?”
“Message coming in.” They knew what it would say, but it played anyway.
“We are the Borg. You will lower your shield and surrender, that we may add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. If you do not comply we will destroy your world. Resistance is futile.”
The silence was unbearable. How could it have come to this? they wondered. Capital of the republic, so worn down that their enemies were demanding their surrender.
“Lower the shields,” Dx'ono said.
“We can’t do that,” Mon Mothma replied.
“You heard them,” Fey’lya almost shouted, “They’ll destroy us!”
“If we lower it they’ll assimilate us,” Mon Mothma replied. “At least with the shield up we stand a chance.”
“Alderaan had a shield!!” Fey’lya cried. “Look what good it did them!”
“This isn’t Alderaan and that isn’t a Death Star,” Mon Mothma replied. “Don’t you see, they want us to lower the shields because they want to take us alive. Coruscant has representatives from across the galaxy; with us the Borg will know how to defeat every planet in the Republic, we can’t do it.”
“You’ll be killing countless lives,” Dx’ono insisted.
“It is not your decision to make any more,” Mon Mothma replied. “If we can improve our shields, direct them towards the tetrahedron instead of surrounding the entire planet, perhaps they can hold it off, at least until the fleet arrives.”
“You’re gambling with our lives!” Fey’lya insisted.
“We lower the shield and we lose anyway,” Mon Mothma insisted. “At least we have a chance with the shields up.”
“Forty minutes.”
The voice of the Borg returned. “Lower your shield and surrender.”
“Do what they said!” Quedlifu yelled.
“Give the shields all the energy they can,” she ordered, filling them in on what they were trying to accomplish. “The Death Star took time to recharge. If we can withstand one blast we should make it.”
“Impossible!”
“Fey’lya,” she replied, her reputation of diplomacy and even-temperedness pushed aside at this moment, “Shut - up!”
“There’s a power build up in the ship,” a nervous aide reported.
“This is your final warning,” the Borg said. “Lower your shield and surrender, or we will destroy you.”
“Get ready,” she told the technicians, officials, and soldiers who were all listening intently on what to do during this hour of fear.
“They’re firing!”
Three thin green beams extended from the corners of the Pyramid to meet just above the final point. From there a beam lanced through the point, growing powerful enough to shatter worlds, as it now attempted to do.
It’s a simple fact that in order to stop energy, you need to use energy, which is the principle behind a shield. In this case, the energy produced by the hypermatter reactor of the Borg ship was being pitted against the energy production of the entire planet, the engineers having directed the shield to cover an area of only a few thousand square kilometers instead of surrounding the whole planet. The Death Star, either of them, could have broken through, but the Borg had designed theirs with a much smaller reactor. Instead the beam terminated and the planet was spared, but unfortunately the shields were now down.
“Get them back up!” Mon Mothma insisted as she saw the Borg approach the planet, ready to scoop up and consume the beings and technology of this world.
“They’re trying,” was the report. They watched in horror as several beams emerged from the Borg ships, cutting into the urban surface of the planet and lifting chunks up out of the atmosphere.
“Try harder.”
“Thirty-five minutes.”
They watched helplessly as the Borg began carving up their planet, waiting for their turn. Suddenly the beam terminated, and they watched as several thousands tons fell out of the sky back to the planet.
“The shield’s back up,” came the report, “But very weak. Apparently some of the emitters were damaged.”
“Get to work on them then,” she ordered. “Who knows how much time we have left.”
“Thirty-one minutes.”
“Perhaps we should lower the shields,” Gavrisom suggested. “The Borg won’t have assimilated all that much of the planet in that time.”
“But we don’t know how long the battle will take,” Mon Mothma replied. “We can’t take the risk.”
“The risk?!” Dx’ono said in disbelief. “You’re risking all our lives!”
“We have no choice,” she insisted. “We’ve got to-“
The beam came suddenly, crumpling the shield with ease this time. It cracked through the hard armored shell of the planet like an egg and drilled through the rock, seared through the mantle, and pierced the core. And then it exploded. Twenty-five thousand years this world had been the center of the galaxy. For a lot longer than that, it had been a home. Now it was an expanding void, nothing. The jewel had shattered, and the Borg raced away from the shattered façade. A half-hour later the fleet arrived, finding nothing left to save. The world was dead; the question was whether the Republic had died with it.
Chuck
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Crazedwraith
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Thanks!Crazedwraith wrote:
Actually, in both cases Riker did refuse orders to withdraw, it's just that this time he was a bit more in character about it.Crazedwraith wrote: Although again the describtion of the EE's demise doesn't seem to entriely match the new course of events. For example I don't recall Riekr disobeying order to fight the borg.
Technically, I believe the craft is listed as the Enterprise-D Mark II.Crazedwraith wrote: BTW, is the new Galaxy class enterprise designated the E-D or the E-F?
Chuck
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consequences
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'Its not the east side or the west side.
No its not.
Its not the Light side or the Dark Side.
No its not.
It is the Borg side
You are correct sir.'
Well, unfortunately, there's no one plausible as of AaC that I can think of with leet D3t3ct1v3 skillz, so Corran probably gets to live. Dagnabit.
To give you an idea how much I was reaching, I was actually considering the Moriarty hologram somehow making a reappearance, and deconstructing the mystery through his perspective as a criminal mastermind, and how he would have worked to foil someone of Holmes caliber trying to put things together.
And Kill Janeway Already
No its not.
Its not the Light side or the Dark Side.
No its not.
It is the Borg side
You are correct sir.'
Well, unfortunately, there's no one plausible as of AaC that I can think of with leet D3t3ct1v3 skillz, so Corran probably gets to live. Dagnabit.
To give you an idea how much I was reaching, I was actually considering the Moriarty hologram somehow making a reappearance, and deconstructing the mystery through his perspective as a criminal mastermind, and how he would have worked to foil someone of Holmes caliber trying to put things together.
And Kill Janeway Already
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Ah such a nice job...and well it went boom 
.
Honestly I do like the re-reading and trying to remember "So who's next on Chuck's Chop Block?"
.Honestly I do like the re-reading and trying to remember "So who's next on Chuck's Chop Block?"
MM /CF/WG/BOTM/JL/Original Warsie/ACPATHNTDWATGODW FOREVER!!
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all
Saying and doing are chocolate and concrete
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You know, that is an intriguing idea. It's too late in the game to incorporate that kind of change, but it would be interesting to see someone trying to solve a mystery with a holographic Moriarty. I hope someone picks that up and runs with it.consequences wrote: Well, unfortunately, there's no one plausible as of AaC that I can think of with leet D3t3ct1v3 skillz, so Corran probably gets to live. Dagnabit.
To give you an idea how much I was reaching, I was actually considering the Moriarty hologram somehow making a reappearance, and deconstructing the mystery through his perspective as a criminal mastermind, and how he would have worked to foil someone of Holmes caliber trying to put things together.
And Kill Janeway Already
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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Sonnenburg
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I've always felt that one of the drawbacks of the "stay the course" idea with stories is that you can't get as nervous about the dangerous situations. You know Spock isn't going to die, he's the main character, so the impact of dangerous situations diminishes. When people sometimes die, important people, then the danger remains real. If we can callously murder Troi, who is safe? If Coruscant can be destroyed, what planet isn't at risk?Ghost Rider wrote:Ah such a nice job...and well it went boom
Honestly I do like the re-reading and trying to remember "So who's next on Chuck's Chop Block?"
Chuck
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Part XIX
“Let’s get this started,” Riker announced as he slid into his seat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by Picard, Luke, Geordi, and Seven. “Things are very busy so let’s cut to the chase.”
“We’ve completed the invasive program,” Laforge remarked. “We’ve run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don’t see how it could fail.”
“Good,” Riker replied, now turning his attention to his former captain. “What of the array?”
“Another week,” Picard replied. “Hopefully the situation will remain the same during that time.” He was referring to the fairly recent lull in Borg activity in this area. Whether this was due to their invasion of the wormhole or the recent victory the fleet had in this area was unknown, but no one felt like looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. Everyone knew exactly what Picard was referring to though; if the Borg sent a sizeable fleet like the one that overwhelmed Wormhole Base, a week from now there could be no Federation left to save.
“Very well,” Riker replied. “Let’s hope that in a week this war will be over for good.” He started to get up.
“There’s one other thing, Will,” Picard said quickly, and Riker returned to his seat. “I’ll need to go there personally to upload the file. I’ll need a ship to get there, perhaps the Callisto-“
“No,” Riker remarked, “I can’t afford to lose a single starship, not with the new Borg tactics. We’ll have to send a shuttle.”
“That’ll take time,” Laforge remarked. “You almost have to start now.”
“I’m sorry,” Riker replied, “But we can’t take the risk.”
“Perhaps there is an alternative,” Seven remarked, speaking for the first time during this meeting. “Voyager has joined the fleet has it not?”
“Yes,” Geordi replied. “They’ve been here for a couple of weeks.”
“I believe Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim have retrofitted the Delta Flyer with a hyperdrive, one that could get the ambassador there much faster than a standard shuttlecraft.”
“I’m not familiar with the Delta Flyer,” Luke remarked.
“You’re not the only one,” Riker replied. “What is it?”
“An oversized shuttle Voyager assembled in the Delta Quadrant,” Seven informed them. “A very efficient ship, I think it would be well suited to the task.”
Riker turned to Picard. “Satisfactory?”
“It’ll have to due,” Picard remarked. “I just hope it’s as capable a ship as you say it is.”
“Mr. Paris is nothing if not surprising,” Seven replied.
Two days later, Picard sat on board the Delta Flyer, agreeing largely with that assessment. He watched with quiet interest as the young man piloted the ship with a casual ease. A very interesting change, he thought, toggles and dials instead of touchpanels. Seven had mentioned he had an interest in vintage twentieth century mechanics. “You were the one who designed this?” Picard asked to break the silence.
Paris laughed a little self-consciously. “I know it may not look like much, but she’ll knock your socks off believe me.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite impressed. Voyager certainly didn’t lack for comforts on away missions in the Delta Quadrant.”
Paris nodded as he checked over their course. “She hasn’t seen much use lately. Wasn’t exactly high on the list for receiving a hyperdrive.”
“I imagine not. I’m surprised she was upgraded at all. Many shuttles were de-commissioned rather than the lengthy refitting process, I find it difficult picturing Admiral Jellico authorizing this.”
Paris laughed nervously. “Yes, I’d find it difficult too.”
Picard raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”
Paris wore a tight smile and refused to look in Picard’s direction. “No, I don’t think you do.”
“Fair enough.” Picard watched the passing form of hyperspace for a short time, but that only made him think about the mission, and the risk. There’s still a long way to go, he thought, best not to get worked up already. “Are you any relation to Admiral Paris?”
Paris seemed a little uncomfortable. “Yes, he’s my father.”
“Strange,” Picard said. “I’ve met him a few times, he looks rather different than you.”
“Well looks aren’t where it ends,” Paris replied as he checked the scope for any signs of Borg. It was unlikely, but better safe than sorry and all that. “I doubt he’d approve of this,” he said, indicating the Delta Flyer.
“Perhaps,” Picard said, “But perhaps not. It is an impres-“
There was a small jerk as starlines appeared and normal space with its network of white pinpricks returned. “What’s happened?” Picard asked as Paris grabbed the controls on instinct.
“Interdiction field,” he said through gritted teeth. “Hang on, I’m going to see if I can get out of it.”
Picard looked over the instruments as Paris pushed the engines to full power, racing to escape the gravity well and return to hyperspace. “Star Destroyer,” he said with disbelief as he saw the familiar wedge-shape, the expanded globes showing just who was responsible for this situation. Unfortunately that wasn’t it. “TIE fighters,” he said quickly, and Paris immediately began some evasive maneuvers.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Taar watched the position of the ships on the board, monitoring the activity with precision. It was important that absolutely nothing went wrong with this. “Chimaera to Black 1. Disable their shields, but do not destroy the vessel.”
“Understood Chimaera,” was the reply.
He watched the twisting shapes as they danced the dance of combat in a place where there were no forces to stand in the way of these brilliant twists and turns. It was a beautiful ballet of three dimensions, one he hadn’t seen up close in a while he realized.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The ship rocked slightly as Paris tried to pull away from the fighters, their weapons splashing across the shuttle’s shields. “Shields at 79%,” the computer announced.
“They’re herding us,” Paris said as he grit his teeth. “They’re trying to keep us in the interdiction field.”
What are they doing here? Picard wondered as he watched the TIE suddenly appear in the window moments before the phasers blasted it apart. What interest would they have here, and why are they after us? Is this Thrawn’s idea, or some rival Imperial warlord? The ship shuddered, and he decided that questions like this could be saved for later. He watched Paris with a bit of awe as he managed to avoid most of the TIEs’ fire despite being outnumbered. They may not have given him the best ship, he thought as another TIE appeared in the window, only to collapse under phaser fire, but they gave me a great pilot.
“Three left,” Paris muttered, trying to keep steady, to be as much a part of his ship as he could. “Okay, we can do this.” He pulled up abruptly and spun at the TIEs, causing them to veer off to avoid him. He picked one and started following it, gently bobbing up and down as he sought just the right angle, trying to anticipate the pilot who desperately fought to avoid what he knew would be coming. Another blast, and the odds were almost even. “That’s how we do that,” he mumbled, pulling a sharp turn to take on the last two fighters.
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The commander of fighter operations must have recognized the look of disapproval on Delric Taar’s face. “Black Squadron,” he ordered, “Deactivate the shields on the shuttle now!”
Taar watched the turning ships, for a while, watching another flare on the screen indicating the Federation ship had succeeded in destroying another of the Emperor’s “finest”. What had the fleet come to? he wondered. No wonder we were losing fighters to the Borg. There was no alternative he decided, and he turned and left the command center.
--------------------------------------------------------------
“They’re launching more TIEs,” Picard said as he kept a close eye on the second star destroyer.
“I think that’s our signal to say au revoir,” Paris replied, breaking away from the remaining TIE and heading for the edge of the interdiction field, the TIE now returning to fire at the shuttle.
“The interdictor is pursuing,” Picard said quickly. “They’re trying to keep us in the field.”
“We’ll outrun them if we have to,” Paris replied, pushing the ship to its maximum. The Delta Flyer raced through space as it tried to leave the Imperials behind. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to let that happen.
“I’ll take the shuttle myself,” Taar said as his TIE Defender chewed up the distance between them and the ship. “You keep him in the field long enough to get the shields down.
“That’s new,” Paris remarked as he saw the Defenders approaching.
“Be careful,” Picard said as he recognized the ships. “They’re heavily armed and shielded.”
Paris grinned. “Just like us.” He waited until they were almost on top of them, their laser cannons splattering space around them as the ship bobbed and weaved to avoid them, then executing a straining twist that caused them to overshoot him. He poured on the speed trying to outrace them, but these ships were very quick, and within seconds were coming at him again.
Taar was fairly impressed, the pilot certainly wasn’t making this easy for them. After a few failed hits he decided to change his tactics, tapping over his weapons array and selecting one of the Defender’s supply of concussion missiles. Scans showed their shields around 70%, so a pair should take them down with minimal damage. He was just prepared to initiate a lock when the ship twisted up and to his left, causing him to pull up hard to try and pursue.
“Persistent, aren’t they,” Paris remarked. “Do me a favor. See that panel there? Open it up.”
Picard pulled it opened, revealing what looked like a primitive tactical array. “You get a lock,” Paris said, “Let me know and I’ll do the rest.”
Taar and his wingmen weaved along behind the shuttle, trying to keep up with it. Suddenly the ship’s engines cut and it flipped over, now appearing to be upside-down and facing them for a second, its inertia keeping it moving. Taar’s wingman splashed it with a few blasts but their engines, pushed to full, were now zooming them right past, but during that glimpse he saw a photon torpedo emerge and annihilate his left TIE. Taar began to pull up when his other wingman was destroyed in the same manner. Impressive, Taar thought as he pulled a tight turn to come back once again at the shuttle.
“The Interceptor is breaking off,” Picard replied. “It looks like it suffered some shrapnel damage from one of the Defenders.”
“Whoa,” Paris said as he tried circling the last TIE to finish this and get them out of there, “This guy’s good.”
The TIE and the Delta Flyer twisted about space together, each trying to get the other lined up for the kill, each pilot pushing his craft to the edge of the envelope to be the one that secures the shot. The Delta Flyer was maneuverable, but the Defender was quick, and neither would fall for the tricks of the other. On his ship, Tom Paris felt the sweat running down his body, flying mostly on instinct, using his gift for handling ships like few trained pilots could. On his TIE, Delric Taar felt alive for the first time in years. This is what it was about, THIS is art! he thought gleefully. And while Paris’ gift was impressive, Taar brought in true dogfighting experience, and that was what he needed as he anticipated Paris latest turn, locked on, and fired, his concussion missiles covering the distance in no time and slamming into the shields.
“Warning! Shields Down,” came the message from the computer.
“I’m re-routing power-“ Picard began, and then he disappeared.
“Ambassador!” Paris said in surprise. And that was his mistake.
“We have him,” came the message from the Chimaera.
“Good,” Taar replied, watching the shuttle hit the center of his targeting computer again. “My hat’s off to you sir,” he said as he pushed the button, “You were a worthy opponent.”
The last two missiles, their yield set to maximum, raced towards the Delta Flyer. Paris, his concentration back, tried to outmaneuver them, but after a few seconds they found their target and struck, crushing the armor of the shuttle like tin foil and ripping into the ship, overloading its reactor and disintegrating it in a fantastic display of expanding plasma. Taar gave the pilot a final salute and returned to the Chimaera. Minutes later, still wearing his flight suit, he walked into the holding area where former-captain Picard now sat in binders, flanked by two stormtroopers. “Welcome ambassador,” he said as he disconnected his helmet. “Admiral Thrawn is looking forward to speaking with you again.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
Lt. Commander Borui sat drumming her fingers in her quarters, waiting. She wasn’t very surprised by this, but she was disappointed. “Computer, what time is it?” she asked.
“14:23,” it answered.
She sighed wearily. “Where is Lt. Commander of Nine?” she asked.
“Seven of Nine is in her quarters,” came the same even reply.
Borui had been to Seven’s quarters before, but it still surprised her every time as she entered the dimly lit room. There was no bed of course. There were computer consoles, tables, but no signs of personal effects; there weren’t even any chairs. Off to one side was a Borg alcove, in which Seven now stood, regenerating. “Computer, end regeneration cycle,” she said.
“Unable to comply. Disrupting regeneration cycle not permitted.”
She sighed. “Override. Borui Three One Epsilon Six.”
She hadn’t been aware of the sound until it stopped, like the disengaging of an engine followed by a kind of popping sound. Seven opened her eyes and stepped out of the slot. “Commander,” she said evenly. “State your business.”
“You,” she replied, “You are my business, or have you forgotten?”
Seven walked over to one of the computer terminals and began working as she spoke. “I have an eidetic memory, I do not forget.”
“Then why is it you’re here and not in my quarters for your appointment, the one we had assigned for a half-hour ago?”
“I am afraid I have other duties to perform,” Seven said, not looking over at her.
“You can’t perform those duties unless you’re considered emotionally and mentally capable of the tasks,” Borui replied with all the bluntness she could muster. “And that is a decision left up to me.”
Seven turned to face her, no emotion on her face. “I’m afraid that your decision is no longer relevant. I’m leaving the Enterprise.”
Borui was surprised to say the least. “What, you’re being reassigned?”
“I cannot divulge the nature of my assignment,” Seven replied, returning to work.
“Seven!”
“I have my orders,” the former Borg replied. “Take them up with Captain Riker if you wish.”
She stormed through the ship, seething at the situation. What was Riker doing, reassigning Seven without consulting her when he knew she was having difficulties. Self-centered ass, she thought as the doors opened on the bridge and she marched towards the Ready Room door. “The Captain is busy,” Laforge said as he saw where she was heading.
“You bet he is,” she grumbled as she stepped through the doors without even bothering with the door chime. Riker was seated behind his desk talking to Skywalker. “...you can make contact with-“ he was saying, and stopped as she stormed into his office. “Is something wrong, commander?” he asked with a look of uncertainty.
“What are you doing with Seven?” she demanded.
Riker shifted uneasily in his chair. “I have a mission for her. That’s all you need to know.”
“Your mission is interfering with her treatment,” Borui shot back. “I’m not even sure she’s fit to go into the field.”
Riker looked annoyed but did his best to try and seem diplomatic. “I’m afraid that’s not an issue here. We need her on this mission, and that’s the end of it.”
What’s his problem? she thought to herself, uncaring that Skywalker probably knew she was thinking it. He’s endangering an officer with complete recklessness by doing this. “Then you leave me no choice but to declare her unfit for duty.”
“You can’t do that-“
“Look, I’m not your ‘there-there tell me about your feelings’ councilor I’m a trained psychiatrist and therefore as Seven’s physician and in accordance with Starfleet regulation-“
“Commander!” Riker shouted, grinding her to a halt, “Enough!” He pointed her to a chair and after a brief pause she sat down. Now that she’d calmed down a little she could feel he was a bit conflicted about this. He seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going to let you in on the situation,” Riker said with a little weariness in his voice. “We have a very small number of people involved in a secret plan to destroy the Borg using a computer program and an interlink we’ve set up with the Collective. But in order to upload the program we need someone to enter the Collective through the interlink.”
“And you planned to use Seven of Nine to do this?”
“We planned to use Amb. Picard,” Riker said with frustration, “Except he disappeared two days ago, and we’ve no idea what happened.”
“What?” Luke said with surprise.
“He was supposed to arrive at Starbase 1192, but he never did. The area has been searched thoroughly; we did find remains of the shuttle, but what became of him and the pilot are unknown. Which leaves us with no choice but to move forward with our alternate.”
“Wait,” Borui said, holding up her hand, “You want to send Seven back into the mind of the Collective?”
“There’s really no one else to do it,” Riker replied. “She has had experience with the Borg and using the interlinks, she’s our best hope.”
“Except that she’s demonstrated a definite instability on the subject of assimilation since this war began,” Borui said. “You send her in and we may never get her back out again.”
Riker sighed as he leaned back in his chair, his exhaustion now readily apparent. “I know,” he said finally. “But there are more lives at stake here than can be counted.”
“I’m concerned with the one that we’re sending into obvious danger,” Borui said.
“She is a Starfleet officer. We put our lives on the line every day.”
“But not like this!”
Riker held up his hand to stop the discussion for a moment. “I’m aware of all this, and I didn’t reach this decision lightly. But we’re not only talking about an invasion of the Federation, we’re also talking about our allies, and the New Republic which is trapped between the Borg and some alien race that is threatening to destroy them.”
“So your mind is made up.”
“Yes.”
“Then at least let me go with her,” Borui insisted. “Maybe I can help during the trip or even during the procedure itself.”
Riker considered it. “Agreed, on the condition that you do not interfere and waive any privilege in declaring her unfit for duty. I want this damn thing over with.”
She agreed and left. Luke turned his attention back to Riker. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“I didn’t think it was important,” he replied.
“But, if Seven’s going why are we going forward with this?” Luke asked. “If Seven finishes it the point is moot.”
“Yes, it would be,” Riker replied. “But I like to hedge my bets. I want this war over, once and for all.”
“Let’s get this started,” Riker announced as he slid into his seat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by Picard, Luke, Geordi, and Seven. “Things are very busy so let’s cut to the chase.”
“We’ve completed the invasive program,” Laforge remarked. “We’ve run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don’t see how it could fail.”
“Good,” Riker replied, now turning his attention to his former captain. “What of the array?”
“Another week,” Picard replied. “Hopefully the situation will remain the same during that time.” He was referring to the fairly recent lull in Borg activity in this area. Whether this was due to their invasion of the wormhole or the recent victory the fleet had in this area was unknown, but no one felt like looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. Everyone knew exactly what Picard was referring to though; if the Borg sent a sizeable fleet like the one that overwhelmed Wormhole Base, a week from now there could be no Federation left to save.
“Very well,” Riker replied. “Let’s hope that in a week this war will be over for good.” He started to get up.
“There’s one other thing, Will,” Picard said quickly, and Riker returned to his seat. “I’ll need to go there personally to upload the file. I’ll need a ship to get there, perhaps the Callisto-“
“No,” Riker remarked, “I can’t afford to lose a single starship, not with the new Borg tactics. We’ll have to send a shuttle.”
“That’ll take time,” Laforge remarked. “You almost have to start now.”
“I’m sorry,” Riker replied, “But we can’t take the risk.”
“Perhaps there is an alternative,” Seven remarked, speaking for the first time during this meeting. “Voyager has joined the fleet has it not?”
“Yes,” Geordi replied. “They’ve been here for a couple of weeks.”
“I believe Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim have retrofitted the Delta Flyer with a hyperdrive, one that could get the ambassador there much faster than a standard shuttlecraft.”
“I’m not familiar with the Delta Flyer,” Luke remarked.
“You’re not the only one,” Riker replied. “What is it?”
“An oversized shuttle Voyager assembled in the Delta Quadrant,” Seven informed them. “A very efficient ship, I think it would be well suited to the task.”
Riker turned to Picard. “Satisfactory?”
“It’ll have to due,” Picard remarked. “I just hope it’s as capable a ship as you say it is.”
“Mr. Paris is nothing if not surprising,” Seven replied.
Two days later, Picard sat on board the Delta Flyer, agreeing largely with that assessment. He watched with quiet interest as the young man piloted the ship with a casual ease. A very interesting change, he thought, toggles and dials instead of touchpanels. Seven had mentioned he had an interest in vintage twentieth century mechanics. “You were the one who designed this?” Picard asked to break the silence.
Paris laughed a little self-consciously. “I know it may not look like much, but she’ll knock your socks off believe me.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite impressed. Voyager certainly didn’t lack for comforts on away missions in the Delta Quadrant.”
Paris nodded as he checked over their course. “She hasn’t seen much use lately. Wasn’t exactly high on the list for receiving a hyperdrive.”
“I imagine not. I’m surprised she was upgraded at all. Many shuttles were de-commissioned rather than the lengthy refitting process, I find it difficult picturing Admiral Jellico authorizing this.”
Paris laughed nervously. “Yes, I’d find it difficult too.”
Picard raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”
Paris wore a tight smile and refused to look in Picard’s direction. “No, I don’t think you do.”
“Fair enough.” Picard watched the passing form of hyperspace for a short time, but that only made him think about the mission, and the risk. There’s still a long way to go, he thought, best not to get worked up already. “Are you any relation to Admiral Paris?”
Paris seemed a little uncomfortable. “Yes, he’s my father.”
“Strange,” Picard said. “I’ve met him a few times, he looks rather different than you.”
“Well looks aren’t where it ends,” Paris replied as he checked the scope for any signs of Borg. It was unlikely, but better safe than sorry and all that. “I doubt he’d approve of this,” he said, indicating the Delta Flyer.
“Perhaps,” Picard said, “But perhaps not. It is an impres-“
There was a small jerk as starlines appeared and normal space with its network of white pinpricks returned. “What’s happened?” Picard asked as Paris grabbed the controls on instinct.
“Interdiction field,” he said through gritted teeth. “Hang on, I’m going to see if I can get out of it.”
Picard looked over the instruments as Paris pushed the engines to full power, racing to escape the gravity well and return to hyperspace. “Star Destroyer,” he said with disbelief as he saw the familiar wedge-shape, the expanded globes showing just who was responsible for this situation. Unfortunately that wasn’t it. “TIE fighters,” he said quickly, and Paris immediately began some evasive maneuvers.
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Taar watched the position of the ships on the board, monitoring the activity with precision. It was important that absolutely nothing went wrong with this. “Chimaera to Black 1. Disable their shields, but do not destroy the vessel.”
“Understood Chimaera,” was the reply.
He watched the twisting shapes as they danced the dance of combat in a place where there were no forces to stand in the way of these brilliant twists and turns. It was a beautiful ballet of three dimensions, one he hadn’t seen up close in a while he realized.
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The ship rocked slightly as Paris tried to pull away from the fighters, their weapons splashing across the shuttle’s shields. “Shields at 79%,” the computer announced.
“They’re herding us,” Paris said as he grit his teeth. “They’re trying to keep us in the interdiction field.”
What are they doing here? Picard wondered as he watched the TIE suddenly appear in the window moments before the phasers blasted it apart. What interest would they have here, and why are they after us? Is this Thrawn’s idea, or some rival Imperial warlord? The ship shuddered, and he decided that questions like this could be saved for later. He watched Paris with a bit of awe as he managed to avoid most of the TIEs’ fire despite being outnumbered. They may not have given him the best ship, he thought as another TIE appeared in the window, only to collapse under phaser fire, but they gave me a great pilot.
“Three left,” Paris muttered, trying to keep steady, to be as much a part of his ship as he could. “Okay, we can do this.” He pulled up abruptly and spun at the TIEs, causing them to veer off to avoid him. He picked one and started following it, gently bobbing up and down as he sought just the right angle, trying to anticipate the pilot who desperately fought to avoid what he knew would be coming. Another blast, and the odds were almost even. “That’s how we do that,” he mumbled, pulling a sharp turn to take on the last two fighters.
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The commander of fighter operations must have recognized the look of disapproval on Delric Taar’s face. “Black Squadron,” he ordered, “Deactivate the shields on the shuttle now!”
Taar watched the turning ships, for a while, watching another flare on the screen indicating the Federation ship had succeeded in destroying another of the Emperor’s “finest”. What had the fleet come to? he wondered. No wonder we were losing fighters to the Borg. There was no alternative he decided, and he turned and left the command center.
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“They’re launching more TIEs,” Picard said as he kept a close eye on the second star destroyer.
“I think that’s our signal to say au revoir,” Paris replied, breaking away from the remaining TIE and heading for the edge of the interdiction field, the TIE now returning to fire at the shuttle.
“The interdictor is pursuing,” Picard said quickly. “They’re trying to keep us in the field.”
“We’ll outrun them if we have to,” Paris replied, pushing the ship to its maximum. The Delta Flyer raced through space as it tried to leave the Imperials behind. Unfortunately, they weren’t going to let that happen.
“I’ll take the shuttle myself,” Taar said as his TIE Defender chewed up the distance between them and the ship. “You keep him in the field long enough to get the shields down.
“That’s new,” Paris remarked as he saw the Defenders approaching.
“Be careful,” Picard said as he recognized the ships. “They’re heavily armed and shielded.”
Paris grinned. “Just like us.” He waited until they were almost on top of them, their laser cannons splattering space around them as the ship bobbed and weaved to avoid them, then executing a straining twist that caused them to overshoot him. He poured on the speed trying to outrace them, but these ships were very quick, and within seconds were coming at him again.
Taar was fairly impressed, the pilot certainly wasn’t making this easy for them. After a few failed hits he decided to change his tactics, tapping over his weapons array and selecting one of the Defender’s supply of concussion missiles. Scans showed their shields around 70%, so a pair should take them down with minimal damage. He was just prepared to initiate a lock when the ship twisted up and to his left, causing him to pull up hard to try and pursue.
“Persistent, aren’t they,” Paris remarked. “Do me a favor. See that panel there? Open it up.”
Picard pulled it opened, revealing what looked like a primitive tactical array. “You get a lock,” Paris said, “Let me know and I’ll do the rest.”
Taar and his wingmen weaved along behind the shuttle, trying to keep up with it. Suddenly the ship’s engines cut and it flipped over, now appearing to be upside-down and facing them for a second, its inertia keeping it moving. Taar’s wingman splashed it with a few blasts but their engines, pushed to full, were now zooming them right past, but during that glimpse he saw a photon torpedo emerge and annihilate his left TIE. Taar began to pull up when his other wingman was destroyed in the same manner. Impressive, Taar thought as he pulled a tight turn to come back once again at the shuttle.
“The Interceptor is breaking off,” Picard replied. “It looks like it suffered some shrapnel damage from one of the Defenders.”
“Whoa,” Paris said as he tried circling the last TIE to finish this and get them out of there, “This guy’s good.”
The TIE and the Delta Flyer twisted about space together, each trying to get the other lined up for the kill, each pilot pushing his craft to the edge of the envelope to be the one that secures the shot. The Delta Flyer was maneuverable, but the Defender was quick, and neither would fall for the tricks of the other. On his ship, Tom Paris felt the sweat running down his body, flying mostly on instinct, using his gift for handling ships like few trained pilots could. On his TIE, Delric Taar felt alive for the first time in years. This is what it was about, THIS is art! he thought gleefully. And while Paris’ gift was impressive, Taar brought in true dogfighting experience, and that was what he needed as he anticipated Paris latest turn, locked on, and fired, his concussion missiles covering the distance in no time and slamming into the shields.
“Warning! Shields Down,” came the message from the computer.
“I’m re-routing power-“ Picard began, and then he disappeared.
“Ambassador!” Paris said in surprise. And that was his mistake.
“We have him,” came the message from the Chimaera.
“Good,” Taar replied, watching the shuttle hit the center of his targeting computer again. “My hat’s off to you sir,” he said as he pushed the button, “You were a worthy opponent.”
The last two missiles, their yield set to maximum, raced towards the Delta Flyer. Paris, his concentration back, tried to outmaneuver them, but after a few seconds they found their target and struck, crushing the armor of the shuttle like tin foil and ripping into the ship, overloading its reactor and disintegrating it in a fantastic display of expanding plasma. Taar gave the pilot a final salute and returned to the Chimaera. Minutes later, still wearing his flight suit, he walked into the holding area where former-captain Picard now sat in binders, flanked by two stormtroopers. “Welcome ambassador,” he said as he disconnected his helmet. “Admiral Thrawn is looking forward to speaking with you again.”
--------------------------------------------------------------
Lt. Commander Borui sat drumming her fingers in her quarters, waiting. She wasn’t very surprised by this, but she was disappointed. “Computer, what time is it?” she asked.
“14:23,” it answered.
She sighed wearily. “Where is Lt. Commander of Nine?” she asked.
“Seven of Nine is in her quarters,” came the same even reply.
Borui had been to Seven’s quarters before, but it still surprised her every time as she entered the dimly lit room. There was no bed of course. There were computer consoles, tables, but no signs of personal effects; there weren’t even any chairs. Off to one side was a Borg alcove, in which Seven now stood, regenerating. “Computer, end regeneration cycle,” she said.
“Unable to comply. Disrupting regeneration cycle not permitted.”
She sighed. “Override. Borui Three One Epsilon Six.”
She hadn’t been aware of the sound until it stopped, like the disengaging of an engine followed by a kind of popping sound. Seven opened her eyes and stepped out of the slot. “Commander,” she said evenly. “State your business.”
“You,” she replied, “You are my business, or have you forgotten?”
Seven walked over to one of the computer terminals and began working as she spoke. “I have an eidetic memory, I do not forget.”
“Then why is it you’re here and not in my quarters for your appointment, the one we had assigned for a half-hour ago?”
“I am afraid I have other duties to perform,” Seven said, not looking over at her.
“You can’t perform those duties unless you’re considered emotionally and mentally capable of the tasks,” Borui replied with all the bluntness she could muster. “And that is a decision left up to me.”
Seven turned to face her, no emotion on her face. “I’m afraid that your decision is no longer relevant. I’m leaving the Enterprise.”
Borui was surprised to say the least. “What, you’re being reassigned?”
“I cannot divulge the nature of my assignment,” Seven replied, returning to work.
“Seven!”
“I have my orders,” the former Borg replied. “Take them up with Captain Riker if you wish.”
She stormed through the ship, seething at the situation. What was Riker doing, reassigning Seven without consulting her when he knew she was having difficulties. Self-centered ass, she thought as the doors opened on the bridge and she marched towards the Ready Room door. “The Captain is busy,” Laforge said as he saw where she was heading.
“You bet he is,” she grumbled as she stepped through the doors without even bothering with the door chime. Riker was seated behind his desk talking to Skywalker. “...you can make contact with-“ he was saying, and stopped as she stormed into his office. “Is something wrong, commander?” he asked with a look of uncertainty.
“What are you doing with Seven?” she demanded.
Riker shifted uneasily in his chair. “I have a mission for her. That’s all you need to know.”
“Your mission is interfering with her treatment,” Borui shot back. “I’m not even sure she’s fit to go into the field.”
Riker looked annoyed but did his best to try and seem diplomatic. “I’m afraid that’s not an issue here. We need her on this mission, and that’s the end of it.”
What’s his problem? she thought to herself, uncaring that Skywalker probably knew she was thinking it. He’s endangering an officer with complete recklessness by doing this. “Then you leave me no choice but to declare her unfit for duty.”
“You can’t do that-“
“Look, I’m not your ‘there-there tell me about your feelings’ councilor I’m a trained psychiatrist and therefore as Seven’s physician and in accordance with Starfleet regulation-“
“Commander!” Riker shouted, grinding her to a halt, “Enough!” He pointed her to a chair and after a brief pause she sat down. Now that she’d calmed down a little she could feel he was a bit conflicted about this. He seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going to let you in on the situation,” Riker said with a little weariness in his voice. “We have a very small number of people involved in a secret plan to destroy the Borg using a computer program and an interlink we’ve set up with the Collective. But in order to upload the program we need someone to enter the Collective through the interlink.”
“And you planned to use Seven of Nine to do this?”
“We planned to use Amb. Picard,” Riker said with frustration, “Except he disappeared two days ago, and we’ve no idea what happened.”
“What?” Luke said with surprise.
“He was supposed to arrive at Starbase 1192, but he never did. The area has been searched thoroughly; we did find remains of the shuttle, but what became of him and the pilot are unknown. Which leaves us with no choice but to move forward with our alternate.”
“Wait,” Borui said, holding up her hand, “You want to send Seven back into the mind of the Collective?”
“There’s really no one else to do it,” Riker replied. “She has had experience with the Borg and using the interlinks, she’s our best hope.”
“Except that she’s demonstrated a definite instability on the subject of assimilation since this war began,” Borui said. “You send her in and we may never get her back out again.”
Riker sighed as he leaned back in his chair, his exhaustion now readily apparent. “I know,” he said finally. “But there are more lives at stake here than can be counted.”
“I’m concerned with the one that we’re sending into obvious danger,” Borui said.
“She is a Starfleet officer. We put our lives on the line every day.”
“But not like this!”
Riker held up his hand to stop the discussion for a moment. “I’m aware of all this, and I didn’t reach this decision lightly. But we’re not only talking about an invasion of the Federation, we’re also talking about our allies, and the New Republic which is trapped between the Borg and some alien race that is threatening to destroy them.”
“So your mind is made up.”
“Yes.”
“Then at least let me go with her,” Borui insisted. “Maybe I can help during the trip or even during the procedure itself.”
Riker considered it. “Agreed, on the condition that you do not interfere and waive any privilege in declaring her unfit for duty. I want this damn thing over with.”
She agreed and left. Luke turned his attention back to Riker. “You didn’t tell me about this.”
“I didn’t think it was important,” he replied.
“But, if Seven’s going why are we going forward with this?” Luke asked. “If Seven finishes it the point is moot.”
“Yes, it would be,” Riker replied. “But I like to hedge my bets. I want this war over, once and for all.”
Chuck
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Crazedwraith
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 11937
- Joined: 2003-04-10 03:45pm
- Location: Cheshire, England
Poor Paris. You wrote him very well in his only scene though.
You know I can;t actually remmebr what Thrawn does with Picard after this... Or how Picard bites it.
oh and Laforge is an idiot:
You know I can;t actually remmebr what Thrawn does with Picard after this... Or how Picard bites it.
oh and Laforge is an idiot:
That's just tempting fate really...“We’ve completed the invasive program,” Laforge remarked. “We’ve run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don’t see how it could fail.”
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Thanks. Part XX is tomorrow, of course, and the big moment.Crazedwraith wrote:Poor Paris. You wrote him very well in his only scene though.
You know I can;t actually remmebr what Thrawn does with Picard after this... Or how Picard bites it.
Crazedwraith wrote: oh and Laforge is an idiot:That's just tempting fate really...“We’ve completed the invasive program,” Laforge remarked. “We’ve run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don’t see how it could fail.”
What was that 8-bit theater thing? Something like "We'll call it Operation Certain Victory!"
Chuck
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Chris OFarrell
- Durandal's Bitch
- Posts: 5724
- Joined: 2002-08-02 07:57pm
- Contact:
The sad thing is that it IS operation certian victory...but THIS universe doesn't let people win THAT easily.Sonnenburg wrote:Thanks. Part XX is tomorrow, of course, and the big moment.Crazedwraith wrote:Poor Paris. You wrote him very well in his only scene though.
You know I can;t actually remmebr what Thrawn does with Picard after this... Or how Picard bites it.
Crazedwraith wrote: oh and Laforge is an idiot:That's just tempting fate really...“We’ve completed the invasive program,” Laforge remarked. “We’ve run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don’t see how it could fail.”
What was that 8-bit theater thing? Something like "We'll call it Operation Certain Victory!"
I still thing this saga needs to be renamed from "Unity" to "No-One gets out alive"
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ElPintoGrande
- Youngling
- Posts: 65
- Joined: 2006-02-21 08:57pm
- Location: Gods Oily Rectum
you know I had forgotten how much borui annoyed the hell out of me.... at this juncture almost as bad as the much reviled janeway......(who needs to hurry up and die in the other chapter)
CERC
CERC
Sum Senatus
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
And thus, the Padawan and the Master are dispatched, and it falls to the champion of the Force, Yoda to save them; whom in his near infinate power, displays little intelligence, by stopping the piller with the force instead of jerking his underlings out of the way so that his fight with Dooku can continue.....
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Star Empire
- Padawan Learner
- Posts: 242
- Joined: 2004-11-30 10:48pm
- Location: Columbus, Ohio
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Part XX
Lt. Barclay was waiting for them when they appeared on the transport pads on Deep Space 13. "Commanders," he said shaking Seven and Borui's hands with a nervous smile. "I'm glad you arrived safely."
"Has there been any word on Ambassador Picard?" Seven asked, stepping past him towards the doors. He scratched the back of his head self-consciously.
"Well - no."
Seven turned back towards him and Borui. "Then we have no choice but to proceed."
"Seven," Borui said, her voice betraying a hint of concern, "are you sure you're up to this?"
She turned back to the door. "My feelings are irrelevant. Proceed."
Barclay moved awkwardly to the door. "Um, Doctor Bashir is waiting for us in Sickbay." And with that he began to lead them through the Federation station.
"I've modified the neurolinks to fit your brainwaves," Dr. Bashir announced after their arrival in Sickbay. "This should allow you to integrate with the relay without problems. We'll be monitoring your condition throughout the entire procedure, so don't worry." He did a full medical scan to make sure there was nothing dangerous with her go ahead with the procedure.
"Seven," Borui said putting her hand on her shoulder, "It's not too late to change your mind."
Seven glared at her over her shoulder. "I am Borg."
"Hopefully the last," Bashir remarked as he began fitting the neurolinks to various places on her skull. "Mr. Barclay will use the relay to make contact with the Borg signals. When we have a clear connection I'll be introducing a multiphasic resonance pulse throughout your cerebrum which should allow you to use the signals to access the Borg Collective consciousness."
"Should?" Seven said as he finished putting the last neurolink in place.
Bashir smiled. "I'll admit, I've never done this before."
"Everything should work just fine," Barclay remarked from the display across the room, but there was no hiding his anxiousness.
"How reassuring," Seven remarked, wetting her lips.
"Now," Bashir continued as she hopped onto the medical bed, "the pulse will cut you off temporarily from your sensory input. You'll be totally focused on your activity within the Borg Collective consciousness. When you're there don't waste time, get in, leave the program, and get out; no sightseeing on this trip."
"Understood," Seven remarked as she settled uncomfortably on the bed, listening to the discussions taking place as she waited.
"Activating the array," Barclay said.
Nearly a lightyear away, a satellite opened up, its panels expanding like a flower opening in the morning sun. When they reached their full extension a power surge began, continuing to grow in the center until it burst off the panels and deep into space towards a pulsar.
"We're on-line," Barclay remarked, looking over the data. "Adjust the frequency by twelve megahertz." He ran his fingers over the console, keeping his eyes glued on the screen. "Increase power output by three hundred megawatts."
Seven squirmed a little in nervous anticipation, although she felt a little embarrassed by it. Dr. Bashir was nearby, checking her vital signs, but still took a moment to stop and smile at her. "Everything will be fine," he promised.
"Change the amplitude by two microns," Barclay muttered. The graphic representation on the screen suddenly shifted from yellow to red to green. "Yes," he whispered, "we've made contact."
Dr. Bashir reached out and touched the panel. "Safe journey," he said quietly, and all went dark.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Picard was forced into the chair, his hands still held by the binders. The two stormtroopers stood nearby, ready should he try anything in the presence of the admiral. Apparently even bound they considered him a potential threat, a curious thing if he weren't preoccupied with the situation he now found himself in. Thrawn turned around and walked slowly over, smiling all the while. "Ah, welcome ambassador. I hope your voyage here was as pleasant as could be expected."
"I have nothing to say to you," Picard replied, not even looking at Thrawn.
"Oh come now," Thrawn replied, sitting down across from him in another chair. "You are a civilized man. I am a civilized man. We should be able to discuss this situation in a civil manner."
Picard held up hands to show the binders. "Few civil discussions can be held in chains," he replied.
Thrawn thought for a moment and then nodded. "Point taken." He gestured to one of the troopers, who unquestioningly stepped forward and removed the binders. Picard rubbed his wrists slightly as the stormtrooper stepped back. "Don't expect me to say thank you," he said.
"I imagine not," Thrawn replied, and his smile was gone. "Leave us." The stormtroopers filed out as Thrawn stood up and walked near the door. When it closed he tapped some controls to seal it. He turned back to Picard and the smile returned. "Let us discuss your culture ambassador," he remarked as he walked back towards the chair. "I do find Earth to be a most fascinating place. Your art, your history, your literature are among the best I've ever encountered." He circled behind his chair and put his hands on the back, leaning slightly. "So many stories. Did you know you even have a story about stories?"
"Admiral," Picard replied, "I'm not interested in-"
"It's quite a fascinating tale actually," Thrawn continued, ignoring Picard's remark. "All stories you see originally belonged to the Sky god, but one of the creatures wished to possess them all." He continued talking as he slowly came around the chair. "The Sky god thought it quite humorous, and he told the creature: 'Bring me the wasp, the snake, and the leopard, and you shall have the stories.' The Sky god thought it impossible, but the creature continued anyway, and believe it or not Picard he succeeded in defeating these three through his own cleverness, making up for his lack of strength with his mind."
"How wonderful," Picard replied dryly.
"I'm not finished," Thrawn said. "You see the Sky god was most impressed with the creature, finding it quite hard to believe that it had overcome such obstacles, but the Sky god was true to his word." Thrawn sat back down in the chair. "He said, 'You have proven yourself worthy, and so I give to you your prize. All stories are now yours. And from this day onward if anyone tells a tale they must first give credit," and Thrawn smiled, "to Anansi."
Picard, who'd not really been listening, perked up at the word. "What did you say?"
"I think you understood just fine," Thrawn said, his voice taking on an oily quality.
"Anansi," Picard whispered.
"Yes," Thrawn said, continuing to speak. "I want you to understand this situation Picard. I know that in the past the Empire tried to break you and failed, and I do not believe in repeating one's mistakes, so I want you to understand exactly the position you are in."
Picard looked up at him, uncertain of what was going on. "How do you know about Anansi?"
"Oh, I know you know of it Picard," Thrawn replied in an off-the-cuff voice. "You've known for some time now, but failed to understand, so let me point it out for you," and he leaned forward. "I am Anansi."
"What are you talking about?" Picard replied. "You've nothing to do with the Borg."
"Really?" Thrawn said. "Look around you Picard, the evidence is plain to see, if only you'd allow yourself to look." He leaned back in his chair again. "The attack on Yarval happened because I knew of your research base. The overwhelming of Wormhole Base? Impossible, except I know Rebel tactics better than the Rebels do. I've split your forces Picard, divided you into two sides that cannot organize your attacks, a rather unusual move for the Borg, who do not think like a military organization. Did you not consider it when I gave them the nanoprobe technology to assimilate Species 8472? The fact the Borg know of the Ssi-ruuk homeworld, a planet known only to the Emperor and his grand admirals? The unbelievable coincidence of your being in this galaxy during the attack on Wormhole base?"
Picard wasn't sure what to believe. "You're telling me that was deliberate."
Thrawn nodded. "I've left the Rebels trapped with an enemy they don't understand. They're uncertain, unprepared. If you'd been there you could have advised them, but I've made certain that won't be the case."
"How?" Picard asked in disbelief. "How are you doing this?"
Thrawn tapped the side of his head. "I am connected to the Collective," he said. "They allow me free will, I ensure their success. Time and time again we've earned victory, and they have come to accept my authority."
"So you're controlling them?" Picard still couldn't accept this, no matter how much evidence Thrawn presented. But he knew deep down that he didn't want to believe it, to think that the tactical genius of Thrawn was now in the hands of the Federation's worst enemy was, well, unthinkable!
"Control isn't quite the word I'd use," Thrawn replied. "More like a symbiosis."
Picard thought about this for a moment. "Even if I were to believe this, why would you tell me? You don't exactly strike me as the type of person who ties up his enemy and tells him his plans."
"Quite astute," Thrawn replied. "And don't misunderstand, I do fully intend to kill you. What I want you to be aware of is the situation you are in. I, for all intents and purposes, command the Borg, and to incur my wrath is to incur theirs."
"Not very efficient," Picard replied.
"No," Thrawn admitted, "But if the Borg have learned nothing from me, it's that 'inefficiency' can often get results." He tapped on a datapad. "I'm monitoring your bodily systems, Picard," he said evenly, "If you lie I'll know about it."
"Lie about what?"
"About this question," Thrawn replied. "Only one question so it won't be hard to answer. It has come to my attention that the Federation, and you in particular, are working on some large-scale anti-Borg weapon. What exactly is it?"
Picard laughed. "Don't be absurd! If there even was such a project, do you honestly think I'd tell you about it?"
"Oh there is such a project," Thrawn replied. "Your biorhythms show you're lying."
"I will say nothing more."
"Fine," Thrawn replied. "But their fate will be in your hands."
Picard looked warily at Thrawn. "Whose fate?"
"The Federation's of course." Thrawn stood up and began walking about his office. "You see ambassador, I've studied you for some time now. The Cardassians, the Empire, they all thought they could break your will, but they were mistaken. The Cardassians thought your first devotion was to yourself, but they were wrong. Colonel Jarls thought your first duty was to your crew; he too was wrong. But I know your first duty is to the Federation, ambassador. And so I'll make this very clear for you." He turned and faced Picard, his face deathly serious. "You will answer the question or your Federation will be assimilated." He stepped forward and leaned down to Picard, his alien face only inches from his own. "If I send ten thousand Cubes," he said in a quiet voice, "do you think they'd have even a chance of resisting? Your precious Earth will be just one more Borg-filled world, ten thousand years of culture wiped out, your people nothing more than mindless drones in the Collective. You know that that's a fate worse than death. However, if you answer my question, I give you my word that Earth will be spared."
Picard was scared, he had to admit, but he couldn't let Thrawn know it. "Why should I believe you?"
"Oh you have no reason to, Picard," Thrawn replied. "Except for the fact that you know I never bluff."
"If we really do have this anti-Borg weapon, maybe I should just rely on it."
"That's a possibility," Thrawn admitted. "Do you feel like taking that chance? One weapon against the entire Collective? Would you stop us in time? Decide Picard, but do it quickly." He paused. "I want to know about the weapon," he stated, without a sign of compassion. And Picard looked into his eyes, and he knew, he knew Thrawn was telling the truth. He would assimilate Earth and the entire Federation just to prove a point, just to make Picard pay for his decision. Damn him, he thought, and damn me. And to his shame, he gave Thrawn what he wanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven felt the familiar sensation of being part of the mind of the Collective, and it was hard not to panic. Still, she was here to liberate, to save countless trillions of lives from their danger forever, so she focused and pushed onward. She searched through the Borg subcommands, looking for the place to upload the file that would be the beginning of the end of the Collective. It seemed slow but she knew that mere seconds were ticking by. Finally she saw the subcommand heading, and moved to enter the file-
It was as if her mind was gripped in a tight fist and she couldn't get away. She tried to withdraw from the link but it was no good, she was trapped here, uncertain, unprepared for this eventuality. She started to panic, flailing about in the grip of the Borg as it tried to absorb her into the group mind, to drown her individuality into the minds of so many others, to make her feel insignificant, to make her give in and die.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Neurocortacol!" Dr. Bashir demanded as alarms started sounding and Seven began convulsing on the bed. He placed the hypo to the base of her skull with a familiar discharge, but there was little change.
Seven's heart rate, her breathing, her brain activity had all gone mad, and Borui could sense her despair. "Shut it down!" she shouted.
"I can't!" Barclay replied. "It's too dangerous. The shock could kill her. We've got to let her come out of it herself."
"Stand by with cortical stimulators," Dr. Bashir ordered his nurse. He ran his medical tricorder over her to double-check the readings, his face a mask of concern. "I've not lost a patient to the Borg yet and I don't intend to start now."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven battled on, refusing to give up her hard-fought individuality to the ones who'd snatched it from her so many years earlier. She struggled furiously, not giving up, refusing to surrender. I am unique, she insisted. I am one.
And suddenly there were no others, and she was immersed in darkness. She stopped her struggles, wondering what had happened. You are one, the voice whispered. One. Alone.
Then the darkness was pierced by red beams from countless Borg drones on every side. And in the center stood a seven-year old girl, face to face with the entire Borg Collective. She looked around, terror saturating her body. “Annika, run!” came the cry. “Run! Hide!!!” They closed in, and she screamed.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Doctor Bashir tried to perform another injection, but her flailing about was proving difficult. "I told you to sedate her!" he shouted at his nurse.
"I did," she insisted.
"She must have found a way to resist it," Bashir remarked, pressing hard on her shoulder to try and hold her steady to give another injection.
"Barclay!" Borui shouted. "Shut that damn probe off now!" She could feel Seven screaming inside and outside her body, and she didn't like it.
"I already told you-"
"Do it!"
Barclay looked over to Dr. Bashir. "Doctor?"
Bashir sniffed heavily as he looked at her vitals and thought quickly. "Turn it off," he said with a low voice as he continued.
"GO AWAY!" Seven screamed like a person tortured beyond all limits. Her mind started to feel more distant.
"Brain waves are deteriorating doctor," the nurse remarked.
"Ready cortical stimulators," Bashir ordered. Two small devices were placed on her twisting head.
"Stay away from me," Seven said just above a whisper, crying all the while.
"You're losing her," Borui insisted. "Use the stimulators."
"Her heart rate is diminishing too rapidly," he said, "We can't chance it, we could kill her."
"She's approaching brain death!" Borui insisted. "You've got little to lose!!!" The sensations were unbelievable, like Seven’s mind was collapsing. She fought to keep her own emotions under control but found it impossible.
"Control yourself or get the hell out," Bashir replied, fighting desperately to stabilize her.
"Papa," Seven whispered, "will it hurt to be a drone?"
"Brain waves continuing to deteriorate," the nurse replied. They watched Seven's shivers finally stop, the room suddenly very quiet, save for the sound of the instruments, signaling the collapsing brainpaths in her skull.
"Doctor," Borui insisted.
"It's not your decision to make," Bashir replied.
And there was suddenly a very soft sound. It was quite sweet, as if there were a tiny fairy hiding in the room. Seven sang softly.
"His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So, Puff that mighty dragon sad-ly slipped ... in....to ..... his ............... cave........."
And all was quiet, save for the small buzz from the instruments announcing that all neural activity was gone.
Lt. Barclay was waiting for them when they appeared on the transport pads on Deep Space 13. "Commanders," he said shaking Seven and Borui's hands with a nervous smile. "I'm glad you arrived safely."
"Has there been any word on Ambassador Picard?" Seven asked, stepping past him towards the doors. He scratched the back of his head self-consciously.
"Well - no."
Seven turned back towards him and Borui. "Then we have no choice but to proceed."
"Seven," Borui said, her voice betraying a hint of concern, "are you sure you're up to this?"
She turned back to the door. "My feelings are irrelevant. Proceed."
Barclay moved awkwardly to the door. "Um, Doctor Bashir is waiting for us in Sickbay." And with that he began to lead them through the Federation station.
"I've modified the neurolinks to fit your brainwaves," Dr. Bashir announced after their arrival in Sickbay. "This should allow you to integrate with the relay without problems. We'll be monitoring your condition throughout the entire procedure, so don't worry." He did a full medical scan to make sure there was nothing dangerous with her go ahead with the procedure.
"Seven," Borui said putting her hand on her shoulder, "It's not too late to change your mind."
Seven glared at her over her shoulder. "I am Borg."
"Hopefully the last," Bashir remarked as he began fitting the neurolinks to various places on her skull. "Mr. Barclay will use the relay to make contact with the Borg signals. When we have a clear connection I'll be introducing a multiphasic resonance pulse throughout your cerebrum which should allow you to use the signals to access the Borg Collective consciousness."
"Should?" Seven said as he finished putting the last neurolink in place.
Bashir smiled. "I'll admit, I've never done this before."
"Everything should work just fine," Barclay remarked from the display across the room, but there was no hiding his anxiousness.
"How reassuring," Seven remarked, wetting her lips.
"Now," Bashir continued as she hopped onto the medical bed, "the pulse will cut you off temporarily from your sensory input. You'll be totally focused on your activity within the Borg Collective consciousness. When you're there don't waste time, get in, leave the program, and get out; no sightseeing on this trip."
"Understood," Seven remarked as she settled uncomfortably on the bed, listening to the discussions taking place as she waited.
"Activating the array," Barclay said.
Nearly a lightyear away, a satellite opened up, its panels expanding like a flower opening in the morning sun. When they reached their full extension a power surge began, continuing to grow in the center until it burst off the panels and deep into space towards a pulsar.
"We're on-line," Barclay remarked, looking over the data. "Adjust the frequency by twelve megahertz." He ran his fingers over the console, keeping his eyes glued on the screen. "Increase power output by three hundred megawatts."
Seven squirmed a little in nervous anticipation, although she felt a little embarrassed by it. Dr. Bashir was nearby, checking her vital signs, but still took a moment to stop and smile at her. "Everything will be fine," he promised.
"Change the amplitude by two microns," Barclay muttered. The graphic representation on the screen suddenly shifted from yellow to red to green. "Yes," he whispered, "we've made contact."
Dr. Bashir reached out and touched the panel. "Safe journey," he said quietly, and all went dark.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Picard was forced into the chair, his hands still held by the binders. The two stormtroopers stood nearby, ready should he try anything in the presence of the admiral. Apparently even bound they considered him a potential threat, a curious thing if he weren't preoccupied with the situation he now found himself in. Thrawn turned around and walked slowly over, smiling all the while. "Ah, welcome ambassador. I hope your voyage here was as pleasant as could be expected."
"I have nothing to say to you," Picard replied, not even looking at Thrawn.
"Oh come now," Thrawn replied, sitting down across from him in another chair. "You are a civilized man. I am a civilized man. We should be able to discuss this situation in a civil manner."
Picard held up hands to show the binders. "Few civil discussions can be held in chains," he replied.
Thrawn thought for a moment and then nodded. "Point taken." He gestured to one of the troopers, who unquestioningly stepped forward and removed the binders. Picard rubbed his wrists slightly as the stormtrooper stepped back. "Don't expect me to say thank you," he said.
"I imagine not," Thrawn replied, and his smile was gone. "Leave us." The stormtroopers filed out as Thrawn stood up and walked near the door. When it closed he tapped some controls to seal it. He turned back to Picard and the smile returned. "Let us discuss your culture ambassador," he remarked as he walked back towards the chair. "I do find Earth to be a most fascinating place. Your art, your history, your literature are among the best I've ever encountered." He circled behind his chair and put his hands on the back, leaning slightly. "So many stories. Did you know you even have a story about stories?"
"Admiral," Picard replied, "I'm not interested in-"
"It's quite a fascinating tale actually," Thrawn continued, ignoring Picard's remark. "All stories you see originally belonged to the Sky god, but one of the creatures wished to possess them all." He continued talking as he slowly came around the chair. "The Sky god thought it quite humorous, and he told the creature: 'Bring me the wasp, the snake, and the leopard, and you shall have the stories.' The Sky god thought it impossible, but the creature continued anyway, and believe it or not Picard he succeeded in defeating these three through his own cleverness, making up for his lack of strength with his mind."
"How wonderful," Picard replied dryly.
"I'm not finished," Thrawn said. "You see the Sky god was most impressed with the creature, finding it quite hard to believe that it had overcome such obstacles, but the Sky god was true to his word." Thrawn sat back down in the chair. "He said, 'You have proven yourself worthy, and so I give to you your prize. All stories are now yours. And from this day onward if anyone tells a tale they must first give credit," and Thrawn smiled, "to Anansi."
Picard, who'd not really been listening, perked up at the word. "What did you say?"
"I think you understood just fine," Thrawn said, his voice taking on an oily quality.
"Anansi," Picard whispered.
"Yes," Thrawn said, continuing to speak. "I want you to understand this situation Picard. I know that in the past the Empire tried to break you and failed, and I do not believe in repeating one's mistakes, so I want you to understand exactly the position you are in."
Picard looked up at him, uncertain of what was going on. "How do you know about Anansi?"
"Oh, I know you know of it Picard," Thrawn replied in an off-the-cuff voice. "You've known for some time now, but failed to understand, so let me point it out for you," and he leaned forward. "I am Anansi."
"What are you talking about?" Picard replied. "You've nothing to do with the Borg."
"Really?" Thrawn said. "Look around you Picard, the evidence is plain to see, if only you'd allow yourself to look." He leaned back in his chair again. "The attack on Yarval happened because I knew of your research base. The overwhelming of Wormhole Base? Impossible, except I know Rebel tactics better than the Rebels do. I've split your forces Picard, divided you into two sides that cannot organize your attacks, a rather unusual move for the Borg, who do not think like a military organization. Did you not consider it when I gave them the nanoprobe technology to assimilate Species 8472? The fact the Borg know of the Ssi-ruuk homeworld, a planet known only to the Emperor and his grand admirals? The unbelievable coincidence of your being in this galaxy during the attack on Wormhole base?"
Picard wasn't sure what to believe. "You're telling me that was deliberate."
Thrawn nodded. "I've left the Rebels trapped with an enemy they don't understand. They're uncertain, unprepared. If you'd been there you could have advised them, but I've made certain that won't be the case."
"How?" Picard asked in disbelief. "How are you doing this?"
Thrawn tapped the side of his head. "I am connected to the Collective," he said. "They allow me free will, I ensure their success. Time and time again we've earned victory, and they have come to accept my authority."
"So you're controlling them?" Picard still couldn't accept this, no matter how much evidence Thrawn presented. But he knew deep down that he didn't want to believe it, to think that the tactical genius of Thrawn was now in the hands of the Federation's worst enemy was, well, unthinkable!
"Control isn't quite the word I'd use," Thrawn replied. "More like a symbiosis."
Picard thought about this for a moment. "Even if I were to believe this, why would you tell me? You don't exactly strike me as the type of person who ties up his enemy and tells him his plans."
"Quite astute," Thrawn replied. "And don't misunderstand, I do fully intend to kill you. What I want you to be aware of is the situation you are in. I, for all intents and purposes, command the Borg, and to incur my wrath is to incur theirs."
"Not very efficient," Picard replied.
"No," Thrawn admitted, "But if the Borg have learned nothing from me, it's that 'inefficiency' can often get results." He tapped on a datapad. "I'm monitoring your bodily systems, Picard," he said evenly, "If you lie I'll know about it."
"Lie about what?"
"About this question," Thrawn replied. "Only one question so it won't be hard to answer. It has come to my attention that the Federation, and you in particular, are working on some large-scale anti-Borg weapon. What exactly is it?"
Picard laughed. "Don't be absurd! If there even was such a project, do you honestly think I'd tell you about it?"
"Oh there is such a project," Thrawn replied. "Your biorhythms show you're lying."
"I will say nothing more."
"Fine," Thrawn replied. "But their fate will be in your hands."
Picard looked warily at Thrawn. "Whose fate?"
"The Federation's of course." Thrawn stood up and began walking about his office. "You see ambassador, I've studied you for some time now. The Cardassians, the Empire, they all thought they could break your will, but they were mistaken. The Cardassians thought your first devotion was to yourself, but they were wrong. Colonel Jarls thought your first duty was to your crew; he too was wrong. But I know your first duty is to the Federation, ambassador. And so I'll make this very clear for you." He turned and faced Picard, his face deathly serious. "You will answer the question or your Federation will be assimilated." He stepped forward and leaned down to Picard, his alien face only inches from his own. "If I send ten thousand Cubes," he said in a quiet voice, "do you think they'd have even a chance of resisting? Your precious Earth will be just one more Borg-filled world, ten thousand years of culture wiped out, your people nothing more than mindless drones in the Collective. You know that that's a fate worse than death. However, if you answer my question, I give you my word that Earth will be spared."
Picard was scared, he had to admit, but he couldn't let Thrawn know it. "Why should I believe you?"
"Oh you have no reason to, Picard," Thrawn replied. "Except for the fact that you know I never bluff."
"If we really do have this anti-Borg weapon, maybe I should just rely on it."
"That's a possibility," Thrawn admitted. "Do you feel like taking that chance? One weapon against the entire Collective? Would you stop us in time? Decide Picard, but do it quickly." He paused. "I want to know about the weapon," he stated, without a sign of compassion. And Picard looked into his eyes, and he knew, he knew Thrawn was telling the truth. He would assimilate Earth and the entire Federation just to prove a point, just to make Picard pay for his decision. Damn him, he thought, and damn me. And to his shame, he gave Thrawn what he wanted.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven felt the familiar sensation of being part of the mind of the Collective, and it was hard not to panic. Still, she was here to liberate, to save countless trillions of lives from their danger forever, so she focused and pushed onward. She searched through the Borg subcommands, looking for the place to upload the file that would be the beginning of the end of the Collective. It seemed slow but she knew that mere seconds were ticking by. Finally she saw the subcommand heading, and moved to enter the file-
It was as if her mind was gripped in a tight fist and she couldn't get away. She tried to withdraw from the link but it was no good, she was trapped here, uncertain, unprepared for this eventuality. She started to panic, flailing about in the grip of the Borg as it tried to absorb her into the group mind, to drown her individuality into the minds of so many others, to make her feel insignificant, to make her give in and die.
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Neurocortacol!" Dr. Bashir demanded as alarms started sounding and Seven began convulsing on the bed. He placed the hypo to the base of her skull with a familiar discharge, but there was little change.
Seven's heart rate, her breathing, her brain activity had all gone mad, and Borui could sense her despair. "Shut it down!" she shouted.
"I can't!" Barclay replied. "It's too dangerous. The shock could kill her. We've got to let her come out of it herself."
"Stand by with cortical stimulators," Dr. Bashir ordered his nurse. He ran his medical tricorder over her to double-check the readings, his face a mask of concern. "I've not lost a patient to the Borg yet and I don't intend to start now."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Seven battled on, refusing to give up her hard-fought individuality to the ones who'd snatched it from her so many years earlier. She struggled furiously, not giving up, refusing to surrender. I am unique, she insisted. I am one.
And suddenly there were no others, and she was immersed in darkness. She stopped her struggles, wondering what had happened. You are one, the voice whispered. One. Alone.
Then the darkness was pierced by red beams from countless Borg drones on every side. And in the center stood a seven-year old girl, face to face with the entire Borg Collective. She looked around, terror saturating her body. “Annika, run!” came the cry. “Run! Hide!!!” They closed in, and she screamed.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Doctor Bashir tried to perform another injection, but her flailing about was proving difficult. "I told you to sedate her!" he shouted at his nurse.
"I did," she insisted.
"She must have found a way to resist it," Bashir remarked, pressing hard on her shoulder to try and hold her steady to give another injection.
"Barclay!" Borui shouted. "Shut that damn probe off now!" She could feel Seven screaming inside and outside her body, and she didn't like it.
"I already told you-"
"Do it!"
Barclay looked over to Dr. Bashir. "Doctor?"
Bashir sniffed heavily as he looked at her vitals and thought quickly. "Turn it off," he said with a low voice as he continued.
"GO AWAY!" Seven screamed like a person tortured beyond all limits. Her mind started to feel more distant.
"Brain waves are deteriorating doctor," the nurse remarked.
"Ready cortical stimulators," Bashir ordered. Two small devices were placed on her twisting head.
"Stay away from me," Seven said just above a whisper, crying all the while.
"You're losing her," Borui insisted. "Use the stimulators."
"Her heart rate is diminishing too rapidly," he said, "We can't chance it, we could kill her."
"She's approaching brain death!" Borui insisted. "You've got little to lose!!!" The sensations were unbelievable, like Seven’s mind was collapsing. She fought to keep her own emotions under control but found it impossible.
"Control yourself or get the hell out," Bashir replied, fighting desperately to stabilize her.
"Papa," Seven whispered, "will it hurt to be a drone?"
"Brain waves continuing to deteriorate," the nurse replied. They watched Seven's shivers finally stop, the room suddenly very quiet, save for the sound of the instruments, signaling the collapsing brainpaths in her skull.
"Doctor," Borui insisted.
"It's not your decision to make," Bashir replied.
And there was suddenly a very soft sound. It was quite sweet, as if there were a tiny fairy hiding in the room. Seven sang softly.
"His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So, Puff that mighty dragon sad-ly slipped ... in....to ..... his ............... cave........."
And all was quiet, save for the small buzz from the instruments announcing that all neural activity was gone.
Chuck
-
Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Chris OFarrell wrote:The sad thing is that it IS operation certian victory...but THIS universe doesn't let people win THAT easily.
I still thing this saga needs to be renamed from "Unity" to "No-One gets out alive"
Thank you, I really appreciate that.ElPintoGrande wrote:Oh my God! You killed Tom Paris! You Bastard! He was one of the few I could stand from Voyager. As always however, a damned fine chapter in a damned fine story. You sir are a master of your craft, I can't say it enough.
CERC wrote:you know I had forgotten how much borui annoyed the hell out of me.... at this juncture almost as bad as the much reviled janeway......(who needs to hurry up and die in the other chapter)
Overhauling Borui had been a consideration, but in the end I figured she'd be too much like Deanna, and why kill Deanna and replace her with a carbon copy? Even if she's insufferable, she is a deviation from seven years of "there there". Hopefully it wasn't a mistake.Dalton wrote:God I FUCKING HATE BORUI
Thank you. One thing I've found that's different compared to doing WWEr is that with that there was a lot of "this is bad, how can I make it good?", whereas here it's "this is good, how can I make it better?" These were two bits that I think carried over rather well from the first, so there wasn't much to redo.Star Empire wrote:The Paris and Coruscant scenes were just as good as I remember (although not quite as suprising). Thanks.
Chuck