Unity II: Shadows of the Night, Redux (Complete)

Arrow · Post by **Arrow** » 2006-04-20 06:03pm

You killed Seven! You bastard!

Also, I really apperciate the regular schedule you've kept with the updates. Unlike everyone else... What?

consequences · Post by **consequences** » 2006-04-20 06:07pm

Even knowing how things have to turn out in the end, this is still a Hurricane Kick to the g'nads. Well done sir.

1-14-4 11-9-12-12 10-1-14-5-23-1-25 1-12-18-5-1-4-25

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-20 06:17pm

Arrow wrote:You killed Seven! You bastard!

Also, I really apperciate the regular schedule you've kept with the updates. Unlike everyone else... What?

Thank you. It's been a consuming -but personally rewarding- project.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-20 06:19pm

consequences wrote:Even knowing how things have to turn out in the end, this is still a Hurricane Kick to the g'nads. Well done sir.

1-14-4 11-9-12-12 10-1-14-5-23-1-25 1-12-18-5-1-4-25

Thank you. And I wonder what that code translates as...

Crazedwraith · Post by **Crazedwraith** » 2006-04-20 06:46pm

You killed Seven!

And she sang The Puff song again. Why deos she always do that when she dies?

Oh and I just read "Nobody gets out Alive" and I have to say you're evil.

consequences · Post by **consequences** » 2006-04-20 06:50pm

Sonnenburg wrote:
consequences wrote:Even knowing how things have to turn out in the end, this is still a Hurricane Kick to the g'nads. Well done sir.

1-14-4 11-9-12-12 10-1-14-5-23-1-25 1-12-18-5-1-4-25
Thank you. And I wonder what that code translates as...

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep coming up with means of perpetrating that meme without hideously overusing any one method?

Et mise à mort Janeway déjà

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-20 07:43pm

Crazedwraith wrote:You killed Seven! And she sang The Puff song again. Why deos she always do that when she dies?

Oh and I just read "Nobody gets out Alive" and I have to say you're evil.

Be fair now, I truly love Seven! I've only killed her three times and only mutilated the corpse once.

I miss NGOA sometimes. I think my favorite part was when Chakotay finally asked Tuvok for something optimistic and was told "They have at least stopped the torture and the rape for the moment."

Just rambling now, but I've been thinking lately about how much I really hate Unimatrix Zero. So much suck in that one they had to make it a two-parter to fit all the suck in. God, I don't even know where to start with that! How about that great "psychological torture" of the Queen blowing up Borg ships to get Janeway to give in. Janeway loves killing Borg! This is like trying to torture me by showing me live video feed of a guy in a Barney costume being beaten by children armed with wiffle bats. You wanna mess with Janeway's head? You have a line of drones form, and the first one steps forward and is immediately cut off from the Collective, reduced to individuality. Suddenly alone and frightened, the Queen informs the restrained ex-drone that unless Janeway helps her that he/she will be killed. After a minute of pleading with Janeway to save him/her the drone is murdered right in front of her, the body thrown on a pile as a reminder, and the next steps forward, to repeat the process. I guarantee you it won't take 64,000 dead drones to make her talk.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-20 07:45pm

consequences wrote:Do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep coming up with means of perpetrating that meme without hideously overusing any one method?

Et mise à mort Janeway déjà

Scare' bleu!

Post by **Ghost Rider** » 2006-04-20 08:12pm

Ah, death of Seven....again

Still love the re-reading and I just love how Thrawn oozes in his talk with Picard.

Star Empire · Post by **Star Empire** » 2006-04-20 09:50pm

Be fair now, I truly love Seven! I've only killed her three times and only mutilated the corpse once.

My Dad says that he only teases the ones he loves. My sister often jokely replies that he must love her a lot. I guess you have a similar view. The more you kill and hurt the characters, the more you're really showing your love.

I love the scence with Picard and Thrawn. I think Thrawn is still slightly off though on what Picard values most. Picard puts the Federation above his crew and himself, but what I see him putting highest is what he sees the principles of the Federation.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-21 05:22pm

Part XXI

“Oh my God,” Barclay said with subdued panic, “Oh my God I’ve killed her.”

“She’s not dead,” Dr. Bashir said. “Pulse and respiration are weak, but she’s alive.”

“She might as well be dead,” Borui said, disgusted with herself for not stopping this madness while there was still a chance. “There’s no brain activity, and I’m not feeling anything from her.”

“Let’s not go jumping to conclusions,” Bashir said quietly.

“Conclusions! She’s brain-dead Bashir! We’ve turned her into a vegetable!”

Bashir came around the table, his anger visibly restrained. “I don’t know where you got your training, but you are a very poor excuse for a doctor.”

“Perhaps,” Borui shot back, “But I don’t perform bizarre medical experiments on my patients.”

Borui could feel his anger grow at the remark, but he still refused to release it. “Get out,” was his quiet reply. She looked over at Seven, lying there on that table. Her only movement was the small rise and fall of her chest from her breathing, but other than that, nothing. So much potential, squandered on this crazed gamble. The thought made her ill, and she found no difficulty in following Dr. Bashir’s order.

“I should have known,” she said as she played with the glass, watching the green liquid swirl a little at her touches. “It’s my job to know.”

“Look, you can’t beat yourself up over this,” Lando said from behind the bar. “She’s a grown woman, and she makes her own decisions.”

“But was she qualified to make those decisions? Was she competent?” She let out a heavy sigh and swallowed the contents of her glass, feeling the warmth expand from her chest through her body slowly. She smiled, but it was the smile of exhaustion, when the brain decides that reality is too much to take and it’s time to just leave things be. “Puff the magic dragon lived by the sea...” she sang quietly.

Lando leaned forward and plucked the glass out of her hands. “I haven’t heard that one in here before,” he remarked as he started to refill the glass.

“It was her favorite song when she was a little girl,” Borui commented. “Her mother sang it too her all the time.” She took the glass back and watched the swirling contents again for a while. “I wonder what happened in those last few seconds.”

“Look,” Lando said, “I’m not a councilor, I’m not even a bartender really, but if I were you, I’d go back to my quarters, take a sed, and get some sleep; approach the problem with a fresh perspective in the morning.”

“Might not be a bad idea,” she remarked. She finished her drink and returned it to the bar. A fresh outlook, that’s exactly what she needed. “Thank you,” she said, and Lando gave her a friendly nod as she turned and left.

A nondescript figure stood in the corridor, gave her a glance as if in passing, then continued up the corridor to a communication terminal. A bit of simple slicing secured the channel. "Inform the Blessed One," he said. "The Borg woman has been neutralized by the Collective, exactly as the Emperor predicted." His breathing showed his contained excitement. "Everything is going as planned."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Corran jumped to his feet when he saw Wedge enter the hangar. "Commander!" he said, figuring that after what happened using Wedge's first name would be pushing his luck. He'd expected a thorough chewing out when they rendezvoused with the Republic fleet at Romulus, but instead Wedge just gave him the cold shoulder and hadn't spoken to him since.

"Captain," Wedge said icily.

"About what happened-"

"Spare me," Wedge said continuing his walk.

"I'm sorry!" Corran said.

Wedge drew to a halt, then turned back to face Corran. "Let me tell you what's going to happen." He leaned against the wall. "You are going to resign your commission, personal reasons. This whole thing goes away."

Corran gaped at him. "What?"

"If you refuse, the matter goes up the chain of command. There will be a formal inquiry at which I will testify under oath that you deliberately and willfully disregarded my direct orders, resulting in the deaths of your squadron mates. For that you will almost certainly receive a dishonorable discharge and possibly prison time."

"I was just-"

"I know what you were just doing, captain," Wedge said sharply. "I wanted to go back as much as you did, but we do not have the luxury of indulging our personal feelings when we have a mission to accomplish, especially one of this scope."

Corran looked about in frustration. "Look, I know I screwed up-"

"Screwed up?! Those people are dead, Corran! Have you gotten your head around that?! They're dead!"

"I realize that," Corran said. "And I'm sorry. But you need every pilot you can get, Wedge, now more than ever."

"Exactly," Wedge said. "I need pilots. What I don't need are arrogant, hot-dogging glory hounds who will follow their guts instead of my orders. If you do that, you're a liability to my squadron, and I won't tolerate it."

"Wedge, please," Corran pleaded.

"You don't get it, do you?" Wedge said. "You wanted to be Luke Skywalker, you wanted to be right up there with him. And you know what's sad is that maybe you could have been, but you missed out on the big difference. You want to be a hero, you take the responsibility that comes with it, and that means knowing that people admire you, trust you. You become someone that people look up to, and you have to remember that it gives you power. At the wormhole, you abused that power, and two pilots are dead because of it." He shook his head with contempt. "And that's why you will never, ever, be Luke Skywalker." Corran just stared, because no words would come to mind. "I can't keep you, can't let the rest of my squadron think that we can have pilots like this. We may be Rogue Squadron, but it doesn't make us undisciplined." He straightened up. "Fill out the paperwork, then get your crap out of my X-Wing," he said, walking away.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Two stormtroopers grabbed Picard and pulled him into the hall, past a curious Imperial Officer. A quick glance, and Picard recognized him as the one who’d been instrumental in his capture. If only he knew what Picard had just learned, he thought as they dragged him through the corridors of the Vendetta back towards his cell. He knew what awaited him there, Thrawn had been very specific about it, and Picard found it hard to resist. He deserved to die after what he’d just done, giving away the Federation’s only weapon against the Borg to the man who now controlled them. What had he been thinking?!

He had been thinking about that same Federation, he realized. Thrawn’s threat was the greater danger of the two, it had to be or they would have been assimilated already, and while he’d made them lose their weapon he’d bought them time, and maybe that would be enough. Of course, he realized as he was pushed into his cell, he would never know would he. Well Seven, he thought, it's in your hands now.

“On your knees,” the stormtrooper said, hitting him in the back of the legs and causing Picard to fall down. The trooper grabbed his neck and pulled him back up so that he was in a kneeling position on the floor. He felt the tip of the blaster rifle on the back of his head, and he closed his eyes. He heard the familiar discharge and flinched, but a few seconds revealed that he was not dead. The blaster rifle pulled away and he heard the sound of a body slump to the floor. Very slowly he turned his head and saw the other trooper. “Sit down,” came the electronic voice as the other stormtrooper took a seat on one of the benches. Slowly Picard moved on to the opposite bench, uncertain of what was going on. “I take it you’re not here to kill me,” he replied.

“You have a firm grasp of the obvious,” the trooper replied. It was clear the voice was being scrambled somehow, but whether it was to shake the suspicion of Picard or the other Imperials was unclear.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“That’s not important,” the trooper said. “But what is is what I have to tell you. Thrawn’s ordered your execution, which makes me think you know his little secret.”

“You mean about him and the Borg.”

“Good, so we’re all on the same page. Listen Picard, I’ve got no love for the Federation, the Romulans, or any of you other Milky Wayers, but I love the Empire and I hate the Borg, so I’m going to tell you what’s going on provided you try and do something about it.”

“Believe me,” Picard replied, “I will do everything in my power to stop Thrawn and the Borg.”

“Good,” the trooper said. “Thrawn’s split his allegiances between the Empire and the Borg, so this might confuse you a little bit. He started helping the Borg out some time ago, when I can’t be certain. He convinced them to follow his tactics, and since he had succeeded in causing such crippling damage to them over the years they allowed him to prove he could provide them with the same. That was when they attacked Species 8472; it was a test, see, on Thrawn passed. It proved that he could give the Borg everything he promised, and now he’s using both the Borg and the Empire to further his own ends.”

“Which are?” Picard asked.

“Total control of both galaxies. Don’t you see what he’s doing? Think back Picard, think what he’s been doing.”

Picard thought about it. What was Thrawn getting out of this? Suddenly there was a revelation. “Of course!” he said, surprised he hadn’t seen it before. “It’s so obvious. Thrawn’s playing both sides against the middle! The Borg expand their territory, and other systems join the Empire out of fear of the Borg. Anyone who doesn’t join is assimilated, so still more join his side.”

“Exactly. Thrawn’s territory was reduced to a very small area after all the fighting had stopped, so he needed to expand his control to build up the size of his fleet; after all, what good’s an admiral without ships and people to fly them? At the rate he’s now expanding, I predict that in less than a year there will be no one left in your galaxy who isn’t either part of the Empire or assimilated.” The trooper leaned forward. “And do you think your Federation is going to join the Empire a second time?”

“No,” Picard said quietly. “Why are telling me this?”

“Because Thrawn’s unpredictable. He is, after all, an alien, so he doesn’t think like you and me. But aside of that, I don’t know what he’s got planned once the war is over. He might take apart the Empire’s military and send in the Borg to assimilate everything, and that’s a chance I’m not willing to take.” The trooper stood up. “I’ll let you go Picard, but you’ve got to do what I say, understand. If you don’t it could be the end of what we both love.”

Picard got up. It seemed he had no choice but to do what this stranger said; the alternative was the end of the Federation. “What do you want me to do?”

“First, give me your word that you’ll not attack the Empire. The Borg is your enemy, not us, so focus on that problem.”

He has a point, Picard thought. “All right.”

“Next, you’re going to have to keep some of this under wraps for now, or Starfleet might decide to start fighting us. You’re going to need to get the support of some of your most trusted friends in Starfleet first, so that they can help you organize against the Borg. But last, and most importantly, you must tell everything I told you to Luke Skywalker.”

“Skywalker?” Picard said with surprise. “What does he have to do with this?”

“Everything,” the trooper replied. “Tell him about Thrawn, the plans, and especially tell him about Seven of Nine.”

“Wait a moment,” Picard said, “what about her?”

“Didn’t you realize?” the trooper said. “No, I suppose you didn’t. If you’re gone...”

Picard realized. “Riker would send Seven to do it.”

“And thanks to you, Thrawn knew what she was trying to do. Right now she’s comatose in DS13’s Sickbay thanks to all this.” He leaned forward and poked Picard in the chest with his index finger. “You be sure to tell Skywalker that.”

Picard looked down and covered his face. Oh Seven, he thought. And here I thought I was actually protecting you from the Borg. Once again the Empire had forced him into the position of hurting her to protect the Federation. He finally looked up at the trooper. "Why should Skywalker need to know about that?"

"Just tell him," the trooper said. "He'll be glad you did."

Picard wondered what that could have to do with anything. He knew how Seven felt about Luke, of course; did he have similar feelings for her? And if so, what did any of this matter to the Empire? He asked as much.

"There's no time," the trooper said, then kicked the corpse of the other trooper. “Put this on.” Picard gradually got all the armor off and managed to fit into it remarkably well. The trooper kicked the body back over and shot him in the face, causing it turn black and deformed. “Say hello to Jean-luc Picard,” he said as he reached down and started pulling up the body, Picard grabbing the other arm. They opened the door and dragged the body down the hall.

“What took so long?” lieutenant demanded as they came up.

“He tried to resist, sir,” the trooper replied.

The lieutenant nodded. “I take it you taught him a bit of a lesson on that regard.”

“Yes sir,” the trooper said with a satisfied sound to his voice.

“Dispose of the body,” came the reply, and Picard and the trooper hauled the body over to the chute and dropped it in, then together they walked out. Picard kept a close eye on him, trying to anticipate his movements so that they would be moving together in the uniform pattern of stormtroopers. Finally they came to a room and pushed the release, stepping inside to find it empty.

“What now?" Picard asked?

“Now,” he replied, “We get you changed.” He pointed to a flight suit. “Put that on.”

Picard had a bit of difficulty stripping off the armor only to pull on the full body flightsuit. He put the helmet into place and there was a pop and a hiss; apparently the suit was completely self-sustaining, and surprisingly comfortably. “I’ve arranged for a TIE Defender to launch soon. It has a hyperdrive so you’ll be able to fly it back to Federation space. Remember, find Skywalker first, tell him exactly what’s going on. And be careful; I don’t want to have gone to this much trouble to have your own people shoot you down.”

“I don’t have any experience with TIEs,” Picard said. “A shuttle would be better.”

“Yes, but you’d look pretty stupid going on to a shuttle in a flight suit,” he replied. “And somebody’s going to recognize you if you walk around without something covering your face, so you’ll just have to deal with it.”

Picard followed him out of the doors and through the corridors of the star destroyer until they finally reached the launch bay. As planned, a TIE Defender stood ready for launch and no one questioned Picard as he walked over to the ship and slid inside. After a short examination he managed to figure out how to get the ship started.

“Onyx 4 you are clear for launch,” came the voice over the radio.

“Onyx 4, copy,” Picard replied, and eased the ship through the hangar and into space. After a while he found the hyperdrive control, and the starlines appeared. He had done it; he’d escaped from an Executor-class star destroyer. But was this Thrawn’s idea? Did he want Picard to think he’d escaped? It was infuriating dealing with the man, but he had to go with his instincts, and his instincts said to do what the trooper had said: find Skywalker, and then organize the fleet against the Borg.
--------------------------------------------------------------

The Blessed One removed the stormtrooper helmet. Good, she thought, Picard would be the best element to provoke Thrawn when the time arrived. She had to be careful, because Thrawn was far too smart to be easily manipulated. He was the most unstable element in all of this, even moreso than Skywalker and the Borg girl, but he was just as necessary. If she was to rebuild the Empire, she'd need him to continue his plan.

By now the Borg and the Ssi-ruuk were no doubt spreading fear and chaos across the galaxy, and her people were there to take advantage of it. They'd swell the ground support for Thrawn's arrival, taking advantage of the many ISB connections she'd pried from Isard. You'll be surprised, admiral, she thought, how much I'm helping you.

Of course, it was only temporary. There was no way she could let an alien sit on the throne of the Emperor.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Pyramid 01 exited hyperspace and returned to reality, gliding through space with quiet patience. Several cubes were in the area, and on its arrival most began to move off to various points in the galaxy. The next stage of the plan was in place, and soon all would be complete. The tetrahedron vanished into the wormhole to reappear on the other side of the universe in a different time.

It felt the mind of Anansi join them again. Quickly information was exchanged. Anansi was pleased with their progress, and the Borg were satisfied with his intervention. He had indeed proven himself a perfect ally for the Borg. Together, what could possibly stand against them?

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-21 05:31pm

Star Empire wrote:My Dad says that he only teases the ones he loves. My sister often jokely replies that he must love her a lot. I guess you have a similar view. The more you kill and hurt the characters, the more you're really showing your love.

That's probably pretty accurate. I adhere to something David Gerrold said (I'm pretty sure I quoted it at one point here) to the effect that it's the author's job to make the character miserable, because if they're not hurting, then why should we care? Hurting Seven and Luke and the others is a very messed up way of trying to get people to care for them as much as I do.

Star Empire wrote:I love the scence with Picard and Thrawn. I think Thrawn is still slightly off though on what Picard values most. Picard puts the Federation above his crew and himself, but what I see him putting highest is what he sees the principles of the Federation.

Ghost Rider wrote:Still love the re-reading and I just love how Thrawn oozes in his talk with Picard.

Thanks guys, it remains one of my favorite scenes from SOTN.

Crazedwraith · Post by **Crazedwraith** » 2006-04-21 06:07pm

Poor Corran. I take it you didn't like the X-Wing Books? Still to be properly nitpicky: I have to point out Corran flies his own personal (stolen from CorSec) X-Wing. So Antilles' last line Makes little sense. Then again its quite possible Corran got that X-Wing to peices in the war and got a NR replacment.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-21 06:25pm

Crazedwraith wrote: Poor Corran. I take it you didn't like the X-Wig Books? Still to be properly nitpicky: I have to point out Corran flies his own personal (stolen from CorSec) X-Wing. So Antilles' last line Makes little sense. Then again its quite possible Corran got that X-Wing to peices in the war and got a NR replacment.

I figured I'd split the difference on Corran. I needed the character to live, but there seemed a genuine movement to give him the smackdown he so richly deserves. I hope"Beat it, ya Luke wannabe" will prove satisfactory.

As for Wedge's remark... yeah, they must have had to replace it.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-22 10:14am

Part XXII

Luke found himself on the bridge of a Federation ship, but it was empty. "Hello?" he said.

"Hello," came a voice.

"Seven?" he called. "Where are you?"

"Here," she said. "This place. The place where all of me has been, the place of birth and re-birth."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"It happened here," Seven said quietly. "This is where it began. This is where I was assimilated." Luke looked about the bridge. "This was our ship. We lived here." There was the distant sound of a little girl, laughing. "We lived here for a long time. My father did experiments. They were very important, and we had to travel a long way." The girl appeared a moment, froze, and disappeared in a blur. "I had my birthday here. My cake had six candles on it," she said. "And one more to grow on." The room shook, then vanished into darkness.

"And then the men came." There was a discharge, and a red Borg laser pierced the dark. "Papa tried to fight them but they were too strong." There was the sound of a man and a woman, screaming. "I tried to hide; maybe they wouldn't find me because I was little." They screamed Annika's name. "But they did." The drone began walking towards Luke. "Then Papa said we were going to crash and the big man picked me up." The drone emerged from the shadows. "And then suddenly we weren't on the ship anymore. We were somewhere else." It was Seven. "And then I became Borg," she said.

Luke looked into her gray face. "Oh Seven," he said pitiably.

"Would you save me from this?" she asked.

"Yes," Luke said softly.

"What would you do?"

Luke touched her face. "Anything," he whispered.

She shattered like glass, revealing the Seven that he knew underneath. She was the one from his vision years ago, on the escape pod, complete with the revealing dress and visible lightsaber wound through her heart. She looked so grief-stricken. "Don't do this," she said, face lined with sorrow. "You know it's wrong."

"What?"

Tears ran down Seven's cheeks. "One of us must be reborn, Luke."

"I'll protect you," he promised.

Seven shook her head. "If not me, then you, Luke." She looked over his shoulder. "No!" Luke whirled around and saw the flash of a Borg hand coming at his face-

Luke's eyes opened, and he laid back with exhaustion in the pillow. If these were Force visions, he wished they'd stay out of his dreams. If they were just regular dreams, well... well, he certainly didn't mind dreaming about Seven, but he'd prefer if Borg not be involved.

Then he felt the presence again, and all other thought was cast aside. He tossed his clothes on and headed for the bridge.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Captain Riker shook his head. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Dr. Bashir said over the holonet. "Apparently the Borg employed some kind of telepathic weapon against the commander. There's no sign of any higher brain activity."

Riker hung his head. "I don't suppose there's any indication she successfully uploaded the program."

"If the Borg were able to launch this attack, I find it doubtful they were unprepared for what she had planned."

Riker nodded. He'd just hoped that maybe she'd gone down swinging, that his decision would have meant something. All he'd done is destroyed one of his senior officers, and removed a critical asset in their war against the Borg. "What's the prognosis on her?"

"I'm not sure where to even begin," Bashir admitted. "But I'll do all I can. Your councilor has requested to remain, given her familiarity with the commander."

"Fine," Riker said with a nod. "Let me know if there's any change in her condition." He cut the transmission and leaned wearily over his desk. He'd lost some of his people at the wormhole... and now he'd lost another. Jean-luc was right, he thought, it never gets easier.

Riker walked out onto the bridge to inform the crew; the turbolift door opened. Luke came onto the bridge with a quick gait. “He’s back,” he said before Riker could say anything.

“How long?” he asked, taking his seat.

“I’m not sure,” Luke said sitting down at Borui’s chair; she certainly didn’t need it at the moment.

“Yellow alert,” Riker said, and looked at Luke more closely. “No offense, but you look awful.”

“I haven't been sleeping well,” Luke replied.

“Understood,” Riker said. “Anything?”

“No, he doesn’t seem to be responding,” Luke said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Finally he opened them. “Nothing,” he said with fatigue.

“All right,” Riker said, “Let’s go with the alternative. Helm, course Zero Six Three Mark Two, ahead Warp One.” The ship slipped into hyperspace and moved at lightspeed away from the remains of the fleet. After a few minutes they stopped and returned to what the natives call “real space.”

“He’s here,” Luke said after a short while.

Riker stood up. “Open a channel,” he ordered.

“Channel opened,” reported Lt. Lightner.
--------------------------------------------------------------

He listened with surprise as the message came over on subspace.

“Greetings on behalf of the United Federation of Planets,” the creature said. “We understand you’ve been taking an interest in us. We’d like to meet with you face-to-face. As you can see, we have no hostile intent, we only wish to talk.”

His crosshairs lined up with the ship and his finger sat poised over the firing button as the creature prattled on. One torpedo should take care of them, he thought. Pity, they seemed the best chance that Federation has against the Borg, slim though it is.

Still, maybe he was being hasty. With his cloak they shouldn’t have been able to find him, and yet they had succeeded twice. There must be some reason, and it would be in his best interest in the long run to figure out why. He flipped the toggle and the crosshairs vanished. All right, I’ll give them a chance, he thought. And he proceeded at sublight towards a nearby planet. If they can detect me, they’ll follow me, and if not, then I’ve got nothing to worry about. His ship accellerated towards the green world.

Like I have anything to worry about from them, he thought with a smirk.
--------------------------------------------------------------

"He's moving again," Luke said. "But slow... I think he wants us to follow him."

"Why doesn't he just answer?" Riker asked.

Luke shrugged. "Maybe that's not his way."

"Well, if this is our friend from Yarval, then it's our best interest to meet him," Riker said. "Lead the way, Mr. Skywalker." He sat back and considered his announcement. Right now they were going into a potential ambush, or a very important first contact situation. They needed to be thinking about that, not about how their hopes to stop the Borg had failed and their fellow officer was lost in the process. He decided to keep it to himself for now... and maybe Dr. Bashir could give him some good news by the time he was ready to tell them.
--------------------------------------------------------------

Admiral Ackbar looked over the strategic situation with General Madine in the converted war room of Home One. With the destruction of Coruscant the Republic was in a shambles and coordinating between the planets was proving difficult. Their situation hadn’t looked this grim since they’d faced off against the Empire, in fact things looked to be even worse. The spiral of the galaxy grew until several green dots appeared.

“These systems have been assimilated by the Borg in the past two days,” Madine said.

“There must be at least a dozen,” Ackbar commented.

“Sixteen,” Madine said. “This is the total view over the area as it stands now.” The number of green dots multiplied. Ackbar was at a lost for words.

“The Ssi-Ruuk,” Madine continued as the galaxy shrunk down temporarily, then returning to the expanded appearance in another area. “Have launched attacks all along here. Now, the good news is that they’re not terribly well organized; it seems to be just a basic push into Republic territory. They’re fighting sloppy and with no clear objective.”

“I’m afraid to hear the bad news,” Ackbar replied.

“They’re fighting like madmen, and they don’t seem intent on stopping,” Madine said. “Now, we’ve succeeding in winning every engagement, but we’re starting to take some damage. They’ve resorted to suicide runs on our ships several times. And,” he said with a grim tone, “we haven’t always been there to stop their attacks. We’re losing people, whole planets to them.”

Ackbar sighed. Despite all they were doing, the situation was unchanged. They sat trapped between two enemies, both of whom were intent on other consuming or destroying them. Against either foe they could succeed easily, but this... now...

And that was what had been driving him mad. The Borg had seemed to have orchestrated everything perfectly. They knew exactly how to get the Ssi-Ruuk to face off against them, to distract and divide their forces, and then they had succeeded in spearing the heart of the galaxy, Coruscant. Now the Republic was divided and disorganized and easy pickings for the Borg. Fey’lya had called them tactical idiots; it’s a shame he wasn’t alive to see how wrong he’d been.

“We’ll concentrate on taking the war to the Ssi-Ruuk,” Ackbar decided. “We have no choice but to try and destroy them; we can’t win a war on two fronts.”

“Are you sure that’s wise Admiral?” Madine said. “The Borg are probably the greater threat.”

“Which is why I want to be able to devote my full attention to them when the time comes,” Ackbar replied.

“I’m not sure how the systems will take it,” Madine said. “They may withdraw their support.”

“That’s not my concern.”

“Begging your pardon, but I’m afraid it is your concern.”

Yes, Ackbar slowly realized. There was no one else to take care of that any more was there. Mon Mothma, the organizer, the politican, the negotiator, was gone. All the great leaders of the galaxy, either lost or stranded on the other side of the wormhole. It came down to him, and Ackbar suddenly felt the weight growing even heavier on his shoulders. "Of course, you're right. However, I have to act with the soundest military judgment, otherwise the political question will be moot in the face of our enemies."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Delric Taar stood looking over the latest results of his simulated invasion of a Klingon colony. He had to admit, he was doing it quite well, but since his recent engagement with the Federation shuttle he’d failed to find much joy in the tactics. It was a job that he performed to the best of his abilities to be sure, but his heart wasn’t in it the way the recent battle had been. Head-to-head, two men locked in combat with only their wits and their skill facing off; it was so much simpler than all this, but that wasn’t why he enjoyed it. There was a freedom to it that he loved, the power of being one with the craft and to have all that power as an extension of yourself.

Taar hadn’t felt that way for years, and he knew why. The Borg. They were an affront to all he had stood for, annihilating his men and destroying the fleets he cared deeply for. But the fact was they had taken something far greater away from him: they’d destroyed his love of flying. The terrified times he’d spent in space running and hiding from them, wondering if they were coming after him, it had taken that beautiful thing and turned it into something else, something ugly. And that, he thought, was the greatest crime of all. And while he may have recovered some of that joy once again, he was just as committed as ever to wiping out every last Borg.

He was rather surprised that Grand Admiral Thrawn had entered, and he drew himself up to attention. “Colonel,” the Admiral said as he stepped up.

“Yes sir,” Taar replied crisply.

Thrawn pulled out a patch from a small silk bag. “For exemplary performance,” he said as he handed it over. It was the rank insignia of a general.

“Thank you, admiral,” Taar said, taking them with surprise. “But, if I may speak freely...” Thrawn nodded, “I haven’t performed the complete field testing.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t have time for that,” Thrawn said, taking a seat and indicating that Taar do the same. “You’re probably wondering why you’ve been shifted about in your duties of late, and the reason, general,” he said with a slight emphasis to the word, “is that to be in a command position requires versatility, and an understanding of all the capabilities of men and machines.” He paused briefly. “You may not be aware, but disturbing news has come from the spy network. Apparently the Republic is not only under siege from the Borg, but a new enemy as well.”

“Another invader?” Taar said with surprise.

“Yes, and the timing couldn’t be worse. Apparently the Republic’s fleet is stretched to the limits fighting both sides, and I can’t see how it can improve, so I’ve no choice but to accelerate my plan.”

“Which is what?”

“Breaking the Borg blockade,” Thrawn replied. “I have a fleet of two hundred Star Destroyers ready to face off against the Borg, and believe that with our experience we can lend a critical hand in the expulsion of these vermin from our galaxy.”

“But, the Republic controls most of that galaxy; all our territories are here.”

“True, but we mustn’t forget who and what we are, general. We may live here, but this is not our home. We must drive out the Borg and stop these invaders. But unfortunately that means that I won’t be here.” He leaned forward. “That’s why I need you.”

“Me?” Taar said, not understanding where this was going.

“I need someone, someone I can rely on, to command the Imperial forces in my absence.”

“Sir,” Taar said, unable to find the words to express what he was feeling, “I’m not an admiral...”

“I have admirals,” Thrawn replied. “They are squabblers, they’re power hungry, they would try to take control of the fleet during my absence, and some are incompetent. You, however, have never allowed your personal goals to stand in the way of your duty. I’ve watched you these past years, general, I know that you’ll do what’s best for the Empire, not your career. Also, there’s a distinct possibility the Borg may retaliate against our blockade run with an assault on our territory, and we’ll need to be ready; I know that you can handle that as well.”

Taar rose to his feet. “I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations, sir.”

“Good,” Thrawn said as he too stood up. “I’ll inform the fleet of the situation; we’ll be moving out tomorrow. Be on guard, general, the Federation, the Romulans, or the Klingons may also try something in my absence.”

“We’ll remind them of their place,” Taar said with confidence. Thrawn began to step towards the door. “I look forward to your victorious return sir,” he said.

Thrawn stopped, and smiled slightly. “I’m quite confident we’ll have no problems facing the Borg.”
--------------------------------------------------------------

It hadn’t been too difficult for Picard once he’d entered hyperspace. Unless the Empire or the Borg had done some surprise expanding during his brief period of Imperial incarceration he could take the TIE Defender to Deep Space 19, and then proceed to the Enterprise’s position. And fortunately, things actually worked out well for a change, in that he wasn’t shot down immediately, but he did run into a bit of a snag.

“What exactly is the problem?” Commander Goulis asked as he came into the security area where Picard sat.

“He refuses to identify himself sir,” the chief of security replied. “And he also refuses to take off that uniform for identification.”

Goulis looked impatiently at him. “Look, I’ve got better things to do with my time than guess who you are. Now you’ve flown an Imperial ship into Federation territory during a cease fire which means that you can and will be seized and imprisoned if you fail to cooperate.

“Commander,” Picard said before things could move any further in the direction of “bad”, “I’m willing to divulge my identity, but only to you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the chief of security said.

“Just a moment,” Goulis interrupted. He stared hard at Picard. “I don’t know what you’re up to,” he said with a bit of anger in his voice, “But just to move things along I’m going to agree to this.” He pulled a phaser off the rack. “But don’t think for a second that I trust you.”

Picard tried to remain as still as possible as the other security members stepped out of the room and sealed the door. Slowly, so as not to appear threatening, Picard removed the helmet of his flight suit. The commander was surprised to say the least.

“Ambassador!” he exclaimed, not sure what was going on now. “We’d heard you disappeared.”

“Yes,” Picard said, standing up. “Disappeared right into Imperial hands. Fortunately I managed to escape.” He put his hand on the commander’s shoulder. “Listen to me very carefully: the Imperials think I’m dead, and it is absolutely essential that they continue to believe that.”

“Why?” Goulis asked curiously.

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Picard replied. “But believe me when I say that the security, the very existence, of the Federation depends upon it.”

Goulis thought briefly. “I’ll accept that, for now. You are Jean-luc Picard after all. But if we’re going to maintain this deception we’ll need to get you into something besides that flight suit.” He went over to the storage panel and pulled out a case. “I thought we might still have this.” The lid came off with a hiss, and he handed over the large helmet. “We had a Breen trying to break into one of our security areas last year,” he said. “Killed himself while awaiting transfer.”

Picard pulled out more of the Breen uniform. “This will help me blend in?”

“Better than an Imperial uniform,” Goulis said with a shrug. And he was right; and later that day Picard was on a transport ship for the Thirteenth Fleet. Yes, it seemed that things were definitely improving, which was a nice change from the way things had been.

“That’s not the Enterprise,” Picard said through the garbled helmet as he saw them approaching an Intrepid-class ship. It was imperative that he speak with Skywalker and Riker as quickly as possible to work out the next step for dealing with Thrawn and the Borg.”

“No it’s not,” the pilot replied. “I’m going to have to drop you off here. It looks like the Enterprise is gone.”

Perfect, Picard thought. Just what the devil are you up to, Will, that's more important than waiting for the Borg?

Post by **Ghost Rider** » 2006-04-22 10:36am

Still love the re-reading and I have to say for the Thrawn centered one, you do make him out as he should. Perceptive, and everyone thinks of him as larger then he is.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-22 10:42am

Ghost Rider wrote:Still love the re-reading and I have to say for the Thrawn centered one, you do make him out as he should. Perceptive, and everyone thinks of him as larger then he is.

Thank you. He's a very hard character to wrap my head around, so I'm glad he's coming across right.

Post by **Ghost Rider** » 2006-04-22 10:51am

Sonnenburg wrote:
Ghost Rider wrote:Still love the re-reading and I have to say for the Thrawn centered one, you do make him out as he should. Perceptive, and everyone thinks of him as larger then he is.
Thank you. He's a very hard character to wrap my head around, so I'm glad he's coming across right.

He is, but what I like and noticed of how you write him versus most is he is competent and good, he is not all knowing, and best of all even with the bit of Janeway and other parts he still retains his charm.

What little fanfic I've read and far too much EU, this is a failing most authors make and they forget his charm. Thrawn is cunning, manipulative, and very charming but not in any overt sexual manner. He appears above all else as your friend as he's planning to space you.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-23 08:10am

That's pretty accurate, I think. It's somewhat reminiscent of Goodfellas, I suppose; your friends come with smiles when they plan to kill you.

I think that might be why it's difficult to get into his head, because even as the reader in Zahn's books, you never really know what's going on behind those eyes, when he's being genuine and when he's setting you up for a fall. He's enigmatic.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-23 08:10am

Part XXIII

The entire crew of Voyager stood in the shuttlebay, row after row of the crew standing at attention. Captain Janeway stood at the center of the two columns, Ens. Kim just behind and to her left. In fact, the only person on the ship who wasn’t in this room was Amb. Picard, who was unfortunately forced to remain in his quarters to help protect his anonymity. Everyone had to believe he was dead unfortunately. The only thing even more unfortunate was the news of genuine death.

“Friends,” Janeway said with a somber tone, “We stand here today to mark the passing of one of our own. Thomas Eugene Paris has been with this ship since her first mission, when we were forced against our will into this very area of space. During the time since he proved himself to be an outstanding officer and an exceptional pilot. I think it’s fair to say that if it were not for the piloting skills of Tom Paris, we never would have made it home again. And I know this ship will not be the same without his nostalgic outlook and his irreverent attitude.” She tried to hold her voice steady. “We wish you well on your new voyager Mr. Paris.”

With that Harry stepped forward to the torpedo shaped coffin. Since Tom had in fact been disintegrated during the attack Harry had selected his best friend’s toolbox, an odd choice to anyone who didn’t know Tom Paris. He placed it inside and closed it up, stepping back with crisp military steps, his grief evident to the captain as he resumed his position. The torpedo was beamed to the bay and fired remotely. Janeway noticed B'Elanna jump a little at the sound of the firing; she was probably taking this pretty hard, she thought. They watched the coffin streak away into the blackness.

After it was over Janeway returned to her ready room, hoping to bury herself in work. With the Enterprise gone Riker had asked Voyager to take command of the fleet should the Borg make an unexpected advance during their absence. It had taken her as a bit of a surprise, seeing as how the Sovereigns in the fleet were better equipped than their older Intrepid-class ship, but Riker had felt that their experience with the Borg was more important.

She sighed as she heard the door chime. “Enter,” she said wearily. Please don’t let it be B'Elanna crying, she thought, I just might start myself. She was surprised to see it was the Doctor, looking a little the worse for wear. “Am I intruding?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Janeway said, relaxing into her chair. “What can I do for you?”

The Doctor sat down, a little ill-at-ease. “I’d like to make a request captain. I realize that the timing isn’t very good for it, what with the recent news of Mr. Paris-”

“Doctor,” Janeway interrupted, “What is it you’re asking?”

“It’s about Seven of Nine, captain,” the Doctor said.

Of course, she thought. With their grief over Tom they’d completely forgotten about the news from Deep Space 13: that their former shipmate was, in fact, comatose. It seemed that this was the day for tragedy. “What about her?” she asked.

“With your permission, I’d like to go to the station where she is. I think I can be of some assistance.”

“Dr. Bashir is very capable,” Janeway replied. “He’s one of the best in Starfleet.”

“Absolutely,” the Doctor replied, “I don’t wish to impugn his medical expertise. But the fact is he hasn’t had any experience dealing with Borg drones, I have. There may be something he’s missed because of this, something which I could provide.”

“Doctor,” Janeway said with weariness, “I understand your concern for her; we all feel that way. But the chances of you providing anything to solve the problem that Dr. Bashir hasn’t already thought of is very low.”

“Captain-“

“While the real chance exists that the Borg may attack us while you’re gone, leaving us without a doctor.”

“The nurses are quite capable,” the Doctor said.

“Yes they are, but they’re not physicians.”

The Doctor appeared flustered. “Captain, please.”

“I’m sorry, but you have a duty to perform.”

Finally, resigned to her decision, he stood up and left. Janeway pulled out a PADD to get started but her mind wasn’t on it. Poor Seven, she thought, we saved you from being a drone only to turn you into this. After a while she tossed the PADD down on the desk and leaned back, rubbing her eyes. The Empire... somehow it always came back to them, didn't it. Even when the Borg were involved. She ground her teeth in quiet rage. Thrawn had seemed practically charming, and now Tom Paris was dead, and Seven was in a coma, and it was a direct result of her decision to work with the Empire. She'd destroyed two members of her crew, dear friends, all because she was so blinded by the prospect of bringing them home.

Janeway's eyes flicked up, and she happened to see the monitor on her computer terminal. It was off, so all she saw on the black screen was the reflection of herself. You're being punished, Kathryn. You screwed up, and Species 8472 was wiped out because of it. Now you're going to watch it happen to those around you. Everyone close to you is going to die... and it will be all your fault. The Federation will be conquered or assimilated, and that too will be your fault. You unleashed this nightmare on an unsuspecting galaxy with no thought of the consequences, and this is your punishment. You have to watch... 'til the horrible end, 'til there's nothing left in you but the rage and the hate that have already become your constant companions. A bitter old woman standing in the eye of a hurricane as death whirls about her. And you deserve every minute of it. You took the hyperdrive from the Empire, and in so doing you stole fire from the gods, and now you pay Prometheus' price. And never forget, Kathryn, that those whom the gods will destroy, they first drive mad.

Chakotay jumped to his feet as the crash came from the captain's ready room. He raced inside and found Janeway standing over her desk, her monitor shattered, her right hand still in a fist, covered in blood and black fragments. "Captain?" he said, and she looked up at him, with the expression of a woman who had just peered through a window into hell itself. He hit his commbadge. "Doctor, report to the Ready Room on the double."
--------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor finished applying the dermal regenerator to Janeway's hand. "You were very fortunate," he remarked. "The hand is a very complex thing; one bad cut and you can suffer all kinds of serious, possibly even permanent, damage." She didn't seem to be listening. "Captain," he said, "this obviously wasn't an accident. I'm going to have to report this in my medical log-"

"Go ahead," Janeway rumbled. She flexed the hand a couple of times. “Brief the medical staff on any experiments you might be running,” Janeway said. “I’ll have a shuttle take you to Deep Space 13.”

"Captain, no matter what you offer, I can't falsify records-"

"I'm not asking you to," she said. "I'm asking you to save her." She took a deep emotional breath and covered her face. "I've got to save one of them, at least. I've got-" She just sat there, never finishing the remark.

"Tom, Seven," the Doctor said, "they were hurt by the Empire, not you. If you're not careful, captain, you'll destroy yourself."

"Then save her, Doctor," she said. "Because God help me, I'm afraid of what losing any more of them will do to me."
--------------------------------------------------------------

Luke, Riker, and two security personnel from the Enterprise beamed down to this rocky outcropping on the forested planet. The alien’s ship was finally visible to them, much larger than a runabout, but far smaller than they had imagined. There hadn’t been a word so far, but he had flown slow enough for Luke to guide them to this planet, so he, whoever he was, clearly was interested in some kind of a dialogue.

Riker’s attention focused on the here and now as the door to the craft appeared. It seemed to have been part of the ship’s hull a moment ago, no seam visible to their eyes or the tricorder. Then a man stepped out. A big man. Riker, who had gotten used to being one of the tallest men on his ship, found it strange to be looking upwards at this... mountain. No, mountains tend to be pointed, he had more of a, rectangular appearance. Security was ready, holding their weapons so they could be fired quickly without actually pointing them at the alien. Well, he thought to himself. This is the moment. He stepped forward very carefully, his hands in plain view. “Greetings on behalf of the Federation,” he said in a clear voice.

Riker had witnessed and participated in dozens of first contact situations. He knew what could happen next: friendship, hostility, distrust, song, screaming, dance, a myriad of possibilities. He thought he was prepared for everything this alien might say or do, he was wrong.

“Uh huh,” he replied.

Riker floundered a little at this point. The one thing he hadn’t expected in a first contact situation was indifference. “We mean you know harm,” Riker began.

“That’s a relief,” the alien muttered.

“Er, we want to talk to you,” Riker finished.

“So talk already,” the alien said. “You’re not christening a ship, so get on with it.”

“Um, yes,” Riker said, looking back at Luke with uncertainty. They had discussed some ideas on what might happen and what they’d do, but this wasn’t one of them. Luke shrugged at him. “Well, we’d like to say-”

“Look, skip to the end,” the alien said with barely restrained frustration. Unfortunately, Riker didn’t know what to say, he was too surprised to remember all the things they’d wanted to discuss. “Listen,” the alien said with a sigh, “Why don’t you think it over while I go get some grub, okay?” He started lumbering back to the ship.

“Why don’t you allow us to prepare you dinner,” Riker blurted out. The alien stopped and turned around. “We’ll make whatever you like to celebrate our meeting.”

The alien stared at him. “Uh huh.” He sighed. “Yeah, alright, why don’t we go to your ship.”

“Excellent,” Riker said as he tapped his communicator. “Enterprise, five to beam up.”

“Sir,” came the reply, “I’m only able to get a lock on four of you, the other’s scrambling the sensors.”

“I’m not turning this off,” the alien said, although what exactly he was referring to was unclear.

“Belay that order,” Riker said. “Send down a shuttle.” He eyed the alien as he cracked some bones in his shoulders and upper back. Who was he? he wondered. And what were they getting into?
--------------------------------------------------------------

Borui stepped into the sickbay as Dr. Bashir went about his daily business. Fortunately for all concerned they’d learned to stop bickering and do what they could to help Seven, but unfortunately nothing seemed to be working. Dr. Bashir had been trying some synaptic stimulants that would hopefully get something going in her cerebrum, while Borui had been using audio-visual stimulations in the hopes of creating some kind of response. But all was for naught; Borui didn’t detect the faintest glimmer from the young woman, and she wondered if she ever would. It was then that Col. Kira arrived.

“Dr. Bashir, counselor,” she said, “This gentleman is the Doctor.” A smiling man with a receding hairline nodded towards them. “Captain Janeway, her former commanding officer,” Kira said, indicating Seven, “thinks that he can help.”

“Does she really?” Bashir remarked, returning to his work. “Personally I don’t find it very funny.”

“It’s not meant to be,” the Doctor said coming forward. “I’m here to help.”

“Oh thank God, we’re saved,” Bashir said without enthusiasm.

“Julian,” Kira said with surprise. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I just find this entire thing in poor taste,” he replied.

“I’ll bet your barber says the same thing,” the Doctor replied.

“Wait. Someone tell me what’s going on,” Kira demanded.

“Easy,” Borui said. “He’s a hologram,” she pointed at the Doctor. “He’s not real.”

“Real is in the eye of the beholder,” the Doctor replied.

“A hologram?”

“An EMH Mark I from the looks,” Borui said.

“And the most primitive of all,” Bashir added.

“I resent your implication,” the Doctor said. “While the Mark I line was deficient in certain areas, over my eight years of experience I’ve more than learned to compensate for them. I am up-to-date on all medical practices and bring in a host of unique techniques I learned in the Delta Quadrant. I’ve been published three times,” he said with satisfaction.

“Look, this is all very fascinating, but I have a station to run,” Kira said as she left. “Work this out.”

“Well,” Bashir said, “Since you did come fifty-thousand light-years, have a look.”

“You’re too kind,” the Doctor said, coming around the bed. Borui couldn’t help but smile at his behavior, and the way he made Bashir uncomfortable. He picked up the medical tricorder and ran it over Seven, watching the results closely. “I see her neural activity has ceased. Did you use a cortical stimulator?”

“No,” Borui said smugly, “He most certainly did not.”

“Good,” the Doctor said, “That would overload several of her implants and cause a complete synaptic collapse, which would have killed her.”

“Are you sure?” Bashir asked.

“I maintained her implants for years,” the Doctor replied. “I also removed several that were dormant. I’ve had extensive experience with Borg bio-technology and I can tell you that that would have been lethal.”

Borui felt her face flush a little as Dr. Bashir grinned at her across the table and slapped the Doctor on the shoulder. “You know,” Bashir said happily, “I think the three of us are going to get along just fine.”

“Peachy,” Borui replied, trying to ignore Bashir’s smug attitude. Being telepathic didn’t make it easy.
--------------------------------------------------------------

The senior officers -at least the ones who were still on the ship- sat around the table with their new guest. The alien’s cuisine had been rather straightforward: big lumps of various meats. The chair squeaked under his weight when they had sat down, but it was plain to see that it was mostly muscle that was weighing him down. Luke sat immediately to Riker’s left, Geordi to his right, the alien a few seats down on his left.

“Do you give any speeches before you eat?” the alien asked. “If so I hope it’s not so long that the food gets cold.”

“I... think it’s safe to begin,” Riker said. He half-expected him to grab a whole hunk of meat and tear it off with his mouth like a Klingon. Instead he carefully cut off selections of various samples and piled them on his plate, also taking some of the side dishes. Riker took a small bite of his food as he thought. What kind of a creature is this? He goes just up to the point of being rude without actually crossing that line. He seems uncouth but not uncivil.

“So,” Geordi said after about a minute, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“No,” the alien said, “we haven’t,” and kept on eating.

Ever the optimist, his first officer pushed on. “I’m Geordi Laforge.”

The alien took another bite. “Your mother must be proud,” he replied.

Even Geordi hesitated at that. “And you are?”

“Hungry.”

“I see,” he said, looking over at Riker who was doing his best to keep a straight face. So far the alien seemed intent on keeping his identity to himself. Even Luke couldn’t learn anything from him.

“All right,” the alien said as the meal began nearing its end. “Now is the time to exchange information.” He cracked his knuckles; it sounded like the Enterprise popping rivets under decompression. “To start things off, I’ll tell you who I am, you tell me how you were able to spot me through my cloak.”

Riker looked over at Luke, who nodded slightly. “Agreed,” he said.

The alien took a long gulp of wine. “You can call me Kalib. My real name is based on a collection of subsonic noises, so you wouldn’t be able to hear it if I said it. I deal in information.” He set down the cup and began refilling it from the large pitcher that was now nearly empty thanks to him. “So?”

Riker turned to Luke. “I found you,” Luke said. “I felt your presence near our ship.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Kalib said. “Telepaths can’t penetrate my cloak.”

“No they can’t,” Luke said. “I’m not a telepath. And I can say that I can’t sense your thoughts right now or tell your emotions.”

Kalib stopped and put down his utensil, then walked over to Luke. You could probably fit two of the Jedi into this guys armor, Riker thought as he towered over him. He stared at him, hard. “Alright, you’re not breaking through my cloak,” Kalib said as he returned to his seat.

“You can read minds,” Geordi asked.

“Naw, but if he could he wouldn’t have like what he’d just seen,” Kalib said with a small grin, shoveling some more pork into his mouth. “Okay, you’re not a telepath. What do you mean that you sense my presence?”

“Let’s just say I’m in tune with the forces of life,” Luke said.

Kalib sprayed wine all over Lt. Lightner as he coughed out the mouthful he had. If he noticed the victim he didn’t show it. “No,” he said quietly. He stared hard at Luke. “No...”

“What is it?” Riker asked as Lt. Lightner got up and headed for the replicator to get a towel.

Kalib grabbed Lt. Commander Sullice and flipped her out of her chair. Before anyone could even think he pulled out a throwing knife and tossed it at Luke, who slipped out of the way, rolling backwards off the chair. Riker had his phaser out and fired at him, but the beam stopped harmlessly against his armor. He quickly switched the setting to lethal as Kalib threw a second and third knife with unbelievable speed, Luke slipping out of their way as he pulled out and ignited his lightsaber. Riker aimed and fired at Kalib’s head, and the alien fell over. Riker and Luke carefully came around as Geordi pulled out his phaser. What now?

“Ouch!” the deep voice rumbled from somewhere under the table. “You shot me in the face you Hfellian!!!!” He stood up and knocked over the table, a surprising feat considering it was bolted to the floor. “I oughta play show and tell with your organs!” Half his blue beard had been burned off and his face was slightly blistered, but other than that, it seemed Riker had only succeeded in getting Kalib angry. Quickly he set the phaser to sixteen and hoped that if he fired he didn’t miss and blow out the bulkhead.

“What’s going on?” Luke demanded, surprising calm considering he’d just been the target of an assassination attempt.

“You anticipated the blades,” Kalib said, his voice assuming a more normal tone. “I thought you might just be lying, but it’s true isn’t it. You can move things with your mind?”

Luke shut down his lightsaber. “Yes.”

“You can have an influence over half-wits,” Kalib continued. “And you can ignore pain if necessary.”

“Yes,” Luke replied.

Kalib smiled just a little, but Riker and Geordi kept their phasers trained on him. “You are touched.”

“What?”

“You are one of the touched. I should have known. The timing, of course, the timing is perfect.”

“What timing?” Riker demanded.

Kalib beamed at Luke. “He’s going to destroy the Borg.”

Post by **Ghost Rider** » 2006-04-23 08:17am

The further descent of Janeway, the prodding of Borui, and the introduction of Kalib...ornery bastard.

All in all good stuff

Crazedwraith · Post by **Crazedwraith** » 2006-04-23 08:34am

Very nice. Your Doctor is very good. Still shouldn't a ship the Size of Voyager have more than one Doctor in their med departments?

Oh and Kalib's invincibility and manners are always fun.

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-23 08:35am

Ghost Rider wrote:The further descent of Janeway, the prodding of Borui, and the introduction of Kalib...ornery bastard.

All in all good stuff

Thanks!

Sonnenburg · Post by **Sonnenburg** » 2006-04-23 08:38am

Crazedwraith wrote:Very nice. You're Doctor is very good. Still shouldn't a ship the Size of Voyager have more than one Doctor in their med departments?

When Voyager set out in Caretaker there was only one doctor on board, so I assumed that was the standard procedure.

Crazedwraith wrote: Oh and Kalib's invincibility and manners are always fun.

Thanks.

Post by **Ghost Rider** » 2006-04-23 08:40am

Sonnenburg wrote:
Crazedwraith wrote:Very nice. You're Doctor is very good. Still shouldn't a ship the Size of Voyager have more than one Doctor in their med departments?
When Voyager set out in Caretaker there was only one doctor on board, so I assumed that was the standard procedure.

I will say this is furthered by what we see of Trek in all eras. I mean TNG had to be practically the worst given the size of that ship and yet it always looked as if Crusher/Pulaski was the only real doctor with a bunch of nurses.