Evolutions ST/BG crossover (Old School)

[Albert Green]

EPILOGUE:

THE KATASI NEBULA:

Storms were raging inside the bed of protostars, continuous, seemingly eternal radiation-energy storms that would last for the next million years. The protostars, actually immature stars, would then be flung out into the dark void to meet their own fates. Some would develop planets that they would claim as their own. Some of the more massive ones would simply blow up and their remains would feed new, hungry newborns. And some would simply die before they developed their full potentials.

One of the best things- or worse depending on what side you were on at any given moment- was that detection by the enemy, both visual and with sensor enhanced equipment, was limited. Because of the variable gravities, a result of hundreds of proto and newborn stars, the solar winds, dust from a million sources, heat and radiation storms; the game of cat-and-mouse took on a very dangerous tone. In such conditions, shields both navigational and defensives were useless. Cylon sensor buoys had an operations rating of less than a two hundred kilometers and many times the false positives far exceeded the detection of actual targets. To compensate for this hundreds of thousands of buoys had been sequestered in the Katasi nebula, because here was the weakest defensive point of entry to the Katasi star system.

And the Katasi nebula was home for the time being to two starships, one Federation and one Colonial stealth vessel, preparing the way.

The first was the Federation Starship Khe Sahn, a modified Excelsior-class vessel, mother ship and companion to a smaller accompanying craft. The smaller vessel was the Colonial Adder Taura named for one of the twelve colonies. It was a destroyer, designed for speed, stealth and surveillance. Together they had been observing the Cylon Star Command for the last month, playing hide and seek with the ever-increasing numbers of Cylon warships patrolling inside the nebula. This was something that Captain Pat Duvalier excelled at. She had been in special Ops for years before she became a starship Captain although her first command had almost wound up a being her last. During the Dominion war, she had been infected with a Ciona parasite, much like the ones that infiltrated Starfleet Command so long ago. Fortunately it was extracted in time to save the ship and her crew, but the price had been high. She never remembered what had happened, but dreams haunted her sometimes, and it took years to relieve herself of the guilt. But that was over now and she was here on her ship avoiding Cylon Hunter-killers and the new larger Cylon destroyers, gathering information on the weapons system that had subspace-microwave the Imperial world of Romulus into an un-recognized mass.

The Cylons, who knew that the Khe Sahn was inside the nebula, actively hunted her with a flotilla of warships. Twice they had caught her and twice the Khe Sahn had escaped, licking her wounds and coming back to torment the robots. The overall size of the nebula itself helped protect the ship from its attackers and the intense radiation and energy storm helped also, reducing sensor images to a mere two hundred kilometers distance on a good day.

Staying inside the nebula made the ship a perfect target. That was its purpose, allowing the second ship to travel within the nebula relatively unmolested.

The Taura was a heavily armored observatory, gathering information on the strengths and movements of the Cylon Imperium centered around what was left of Katasi four. The aliens had strip-mined the entire planet now, leaving a reduced hulk in their wake. The information they had was funneled to the Khe Sahn who in turn passed the info to a needful Starfleet. So far the Cylons in their obsession to find and destroy the Federation ship, were unaware of the smaller stealth ship of their traditional enemies. However that hadn't kept the vessel from almost being obliterated a short time earlier when the Cylon super-weapon had been fired.

The Taura was fifteen kilometers from direct contact and still her outer armor had been almost completely stripped. Captain Greenbean still shuddered at the thought of being any closer to that death ray. Of course with all the interference that the beam had generated they were able to observe on the actual weapons platform with a high degree of stealth. After that they had been spotted and almost destroyed during the chase that followed. The sight of the entire complex shocked his entire crew into silence. After that they had been spotted and almost destroyed during the chase that followed.

The weapons platform itself, orbiting a dead world, was a twisted wreck. It had been constructed with the hardest materials known to both Colonial and Federation sciences but still the tremendous energies that had spewed from it had half destroyed it. Subspace and normal radiations levels were so high after the blast that Captain Greenbean was glad that they couldn't get any closer. The planet itself had suffered earthquakes large enough so that the tears could be clearly seen from space. The once viable, life sustaining planet was now a stripped, barren wasteland. The Cylons didn't really need the planet as an anchoring device but it had been an effective terrorist ploy-that was the point of the exercise. With the things happening here, the destruction of the Romulan home worlds and the overt threat of the Borg and their apparent alliance with the Cylons, civilizations anywhere near this area were panicking. The Cardassians had made it clear that they would soon get involved as Cylon raids had occurred on their shipping lanes as well. Even the Alpha quadrant representatives of the Dominion had sent diplomatic tendrils with intentions of improving relations to include increased security. And from everything he'd heard about them, that was a bad sign.
***

Captain's log: Greenbean reporting:

The war has taken on even an uglier turn that I believed possible. We have had reports that the Romulan Empire has fallen to the Cylons. The reports have been few and far between as the interference of the nebula limits the efficiency of our communications. But what we have heard is enough to make us re-double our efforts. Still, I am glad we are not alone out here.
The Khe Sahn is still functioning and we make contact with her as we can. Neither of us have shields as the energies surrounding us makes them effectively useless. But the good thing is that the Cylons have no shielding either, just layer upon layer of armor. So far with the excellent help of my scanner's mate Hazin and his assistant, we have avoided direct contact with Cylon patrols and the multiple sensor units they have placed within the nebula. But it is getting harder now. They must know that a response by our people is imminent and they are preparing accordingly. Scans indicate that they are preparing their super weapon again, recharging for a second firing. The planet that they are using as a gravity anchor will break apart on the second firing of that we are sure. They are shunting incredible amounts of energy into the battery units still functional on the planet. But we estimate that the accelerator will be ready for firing within a sectar.

The Khe Sahn has been our shield and an excellent decoy but they have been attacked and hurt once by some new type of Cylon warship. They managed to destroy it but at the cost of nearly thirty of their crew. I feel for the Captain and her crew. The life of one living being is worth more than the entire Cylon population and when the time comes I will personally be there to see them all burn. I only hope that the forces gathering will be enough end this useless war forever.
The political complexities swirling around this part of the galaxy were enough to drive anyone crazy. Greenbean had simply been a Viper pilot, one among many, looking for Earth.
Well, he got his wish he mused solemnly. Now he was Captain of a Destroyer surrounded by a bunch of kids, at least from his perspective, all looking at him to pull miracles out of his pocket in case they got caught. The fifty officers and crew were a mixture of Colonial, Mariposian, and Ligon Two men and women who volunteered for this unbelievably dangerous mission. He was proud of them all and his laid-back style of command seemed to work well for this particular mission. The only thing he didn't like was that his son was with him.

This was Hundroi's, or little Greenbean as his father liked to call him, first tour of duty.
Greenbean could have simply rejected him in favor of someone else, but his mind overcame his heart and he relented without Hundroi ever knowing about it. This way he could keep an eye on his oldest child. After all Joliet and so many others were in the service and it was just as dangerous to be on the sidelines as it was to be at the front.

"Captain," Ensign Shanell announced quietly. She was a former inhabitant of Ligon II whose family had migrated to Mariposa just before the Colonials had arrived. She was a dark-skinned, braided hair beauty with the ability to observe and analyze what she saw like nobody's business. No one played pyramids or poker with her-ever-unless they had a desire to lose. "We are within range. Shall I begin?"

"Yes," he responded. "Implement full stealth mode. Maintain communications silence and passive sensors only."

As he listened to her melodic voice he understood why his son had a crush on her.

Unfortunately for him, she was involved with someone else. But Hundroi kept trying and he had to give his son credit for having the ability to be shot down on a constant basis and getting back up again no matter what the odds were.

The lights dimmed and all nonessential power systems were turned off. The spot picked for the observational run was particularly hazardous. It was right next to a 'smart' mine field. If the Taura were detected, the mines would alert one another and together chase the offender down at warp speed if necessary. They were very complex and hard to manufacture so there were not that many, to which both crews were forever thankful.

"Lieutenant Hazin, status."

"Passives are on and reflex scanners are functioning within established parameters," the scan officer answered. Like almost half the crew he was of Mariposian extraction, the first of a new generation children whose mother was a clone of the original settlers of Mariposa and whose father was grown the old fashion way as they loved to say. In any case, although young he also excelled at his job as the sensors and countermeasures specialist. Greenbean had come to depend on him as the young man have gotten them out of several situations when Cylon H-K's had tried to run them down. Also his expertise save them from running into hidden mines and sensor traps. "We're showing blue light across the board. Activating-now."

With everything shut down, the Colonial ship was just one more piece of debris, another unimportant artifact in a space surrounded by artifacts that had a tendency to blow up, burn up, melt or try to vaporize something. Passive scans or not, the Taura had no intention of scanning the structures directly. The technique that had been used was called reflective observation. The scanners were aimed at a specific point and the surrounding energies reflected the scans to their intended points of interests. The scan's resolution wasn't as perfect as direct examination but it kept the Taura from being easily tracked and destroyed by Cylon countermeasures.
"We're receiving imaging now," whispered Shanell. There was no need to whisper but it was a habit that was now hard to break. "We're getting non-specific radiation spikes, but I should be able to filter the interference out momentarily."

Greenbean responded with a quick nod. While the Ensign engaged her work, he was depending on Hazin to keep them from being caught. The Cylons were getting smarter all the time and not for the first time did he wonder how this all happened.

"They really work fast don't they?" It was Shanell who made the grim comment.

As for himself, he looked at the complex in awe. It was clear they were preparing for a counter attack everybody knew would come. There were normal and subspace minefields surrounding the factory and the military complex. Twenty-five Basestars of various classes patrolled the area along with over a thousand smaller craft of various configurations moving around the big ships like nervous gnats.

At this point, they were not his problem. He and his people were simply there to obtain as much data as possible and live to tell about it. The Romulans had finally shared the information they had-far too late, of course. They knew about the structure, being re-built, that had killed so many of their people but their natural paranoia had won out.

And look at their prize. Annihilation. Just like his twelve worlds. At night he dreamed about those planets, a million fires burning. He dreamt of plagues, fire, storm and death. Then in his dreams the twelve worlds turned in the visages of Mariposa, of Vulcan, of Earth. He would awaken, sweating and crying, finding his wife cradling him in their bed comforting him as if he were a child. For those few moments, he was and he hated it. The years between fact and past meant little for him and thousands of other Colonials because they were not yet safe. The terrornauts were still there trying to beat down the door, waiting to get in.

"How do Starbuck and Apollo do it?" he murmured oblivious to his crew watching him.
"Captain, I believe that is our objective," Shanell whispered.

"Actually, one of several," The Captain replied squinting to see better even though the clarity was perfect. "They'll be ready to fire in less than a secton."

The subspace gateway cannon, as it was now being called, was surrounded by hundreds of smaller repair modules and worker-class Cylons working ceaselessly in open vacuum replacing melted components and generally repairing the damage resulting from the first firing. To Greenbean they looked like so many insectons scurrying about. But these things looked frightening in their efficiency. A voice on the comms pulled him out of his musings.
"Engineering here."

It was his son. "Yes?"

"We've been doing calculations down here," he began. "The good news is that the cannon can only be positioned in a limited arc for effective firing. The nebula and individual stars block most of the targets of interest. The bad news is that Vulcan lies right at the edge of the effective range and so does Mars in the Earth system. Neither planet would be destroyed like Romulus may have been, but they would definitely be cooked. We're talking an eighty-five percent kill rate."
Lords of Kobol! There will three billion people on Mars and about the same number on Vulcan.
"Recheck your calculations."

"Yes, sir. We will."

He did not mention that they had calculated this four times. Hundroi knew his father knew that he had confirmed the data several ties before calling.

"Less than a secton." He hoped the allies would be ready. "We've done our bit. We leave now," the Captain said. "But we'll be back. I promise."

It was time to leave.
***



To the Cylon Empire, the Katasi system under the control of possessed precisely four things of value. The first was the subspace canon. The second was a staging point for the main attack and conquest of the Alpha quadrant. The third was the massive space docks and factory complex now completed and working at sixty-three point five percent capacity. And the fourth was the Katasi nebula itself, which acted as a protective wall shielding their front. Of course, the wall worked both ways, but for now it served it's purpose.

The factory complex was now completed and the energy fields protecting the moon-sized structures would make sure that nothing interfered with its operations and output. Raw material was plentiful and now the twelve million worker drones were completing the transported transit ways that now ensured ease of movement between the four artificial constructs. Already, the fleet that ravaged the Romulans was put on reserve, screening the Cylon star station from possible attack from the direction of the Neutral zone. Not that they had to worry about the Romulans; their secondary fleet huddled in the far corners of what remained of their Empire. Both home worlds were shattered. The main fleet consisting of seven Basestars and accompanying support craft would be sufficient for a flanking force as needed. And they would be needed.

Reports from everywhere all pointed to one fact. The Humans and their allies were pl
anning a counter attack. Where and when it would occur was disputable but all of the data suggested that it would be very soon. Already there had been several skirmishes between Klingon and Cylon Hunter Killers and the newly designed heavy fighters called Obliterators. Although designed like their Raider counterparts, these were five times larger than the H-K's and maintained a crew of fifty-two officers and crew. Each had enough firepower to take on and destroy a New Orleans-class Federation ship. There were only a few of them in production so far, not more than a hundred. But eventually, they would be the backbone of the Cylon military as more and more worlds fell to their might.

If the Imperium Supreme had any doubts whatsoever that there would be even more wars in this section of the galaxy, it was dissipated by this last meeting. The Dominion representatives had made it perfectly clear that if their territory in the Alpha quadrant were violated once more there would be war-no more talks no more negotiations. The Supreme leader of the Cylon people was not impressed with mere threats. The Dominion's presence in the Alpha quadrant was not nearly as strong as it had been five yahrens past. The Vorta spokesperson had spoken very eloquently about the repercussions of invading Dominion territory. It explained as patiently as it could that there would be no invasion as long as all of their humanoid population was properly disposed of within a specified period of time. That proposition was firmly rejected by the Vorta creature who stated that the humanoids were under the protection of their government. Idly, it wondered if they knew that they were next on the long list of conquests.

For the first time to its processed memory, Lord Lucifer regretted killing Baltar. It would have been most interesting to observe how he would have reacted to this latest victory. He was always assuming that the latest victory was the final one and Lucifer took careful note of that attitude because it had no intentions of repeating it. That was one of his greatest failings and had put the Cylon Empire in jeopardy more than a few times. The Imperious Leader also missed the illogical, but fascinating conversations and the paranoia associated with it. In the back of its processors, it felt that this entire approach was wrong. Making enemies with everyone at one time usually served to make all those enemies forget their differences, and form temporary alliances to eliminate their common foe. Together the Federation, Colonials and Klingon confederation could be overcome. But what about the Dominion and the Gorn and the pitiful, but persistent Cardassians together would they not make a credible threat?

The short answer was yes. But the long-term goal of total domination would be pushed back yahrens if not ten's of yahrens. On the other side of the processor, the destruction of Romulus and Remis had the desired effect. Almost twenty worlds were in mass panic. Three had broken away from the Federation, making separate deals with the Cylons. Four worlds were undergoing mindless mass evacuations, but most have simply went neutral in order to avoid the coming conflagration. Those worlds it heaped scorn upon.

There was only one or zero.

There was nothing in-between. Refugees were fleeing everywhere, further confusing the carefully prepared plans of the enemy. That was for the best. There were plans within plans unfolding.
It faced the ten-story window composed of re-enforced transparent aluminum, its optical visors locked onto the gleaming black Basestar being fitted with the quantum slipstream propulsion engines. The project had taken a little while to construct, especially considering the source of the drive unit itself. The Imperium took some time analyzing and reconfiguring the device before committing it to their own usage. The Borg were not to be trusted and everything had been inspected carefully.

"How long?"

The golden hued IL series subordinate answered the question with the machine efficiency.
"Six weeks, Imperious Leader."

Six weeks it thought. Six weeks before the great journey begins. Once started, then it would not matter whether the fleets won or lost in the long run. The Children would be in their grasps and with them would come contact with the Machine Consignment Intelligum. What would be next?
God-hood.

The Imperious Leader, followed by its entourage moved and bowed deeply to its leader.
"By the command," it greeted.

"Greetings Imperious Leader. I am pleased to confirm that the beings of the Sheliak Corporate are indeed an offshoot of the Cylon race. Much of their culture still corresponds to our own history reports before the organics on our world ceased to function. They have no objections to our presence here and we will not violate their territories as a sign of respect to our ancestral brethren."

The Sheliak Corporate were a remnant of the original Cylons race that had fled the wars on their planet hundreds of yahrens before the cybernetic beings rebelled and slaughtered their masters. How they wound up in the Alpha quadrant, no one was sure since the records were incomplete, lost in the passage of time. But one common trait had remained between both species and that was their shared hatred of humanity. The Cylons of the Sheliak order considered humanity a threat and advocated war, however, the main body objected. In the following civil war they escaped extermination by the Cylon warriors, immediate predecessors to the robots now trying to conquer the Alpha quadrant. Now hundreds of yahrens later, the Sheliak hatred of humanity had faded into simple contempt. Now their attitude could be summed up as- 'don't bother me and we won't bother you-but stay out of our way'. The humans of the alpha quadrant never had a clue why the Sheliak held them with such disdain, other than that they considered humanity inferior.

"There are reports that the Khe Sahn is in the nebula. Why has it not been destroyed?"

"The nebula presents difficulties," Imperious Leader intoned. "However, I have personally sent a Basestar to hunt them down. It is only a matter of time."

"That may be of the essence. Scans detected an anomaly at the edge of the nebula. It was very likely a small ship gathering data. The Khe Sahn may be simply a ruse to lure us away from the true threat. The border patrol has been made aware of the incursion and are taking the appropriate actions. Were you not aware of this?"

High Lord Lucifer's data processors faltered for a moment.

"I was aware my Lord," he lied. "But I have been pre-occupied with the great journey and did not give due consideration to the reports."

In truth, it had not had its internal comm net opened. Keeping its processes to itself was becoming more and more common as it went over the details of this most audacious of plans.
Furthermore, it did not trust the false IL called Iblis. The creature's motivation was suspect to say the least.

"I acknowledge your failings in this matter," the Imperium Supreme responded offering the mild reproof. Captain Patricia Duvalier of the Federation starship Khe Sahn now deserves our attention."

There were only six weeks left before the beginning of evolution. Baltar was correct: patience was not necessarily a virtue.
***



USS ENTERPRISE-E:
Captain Janeway watched with intense interest when she saw Commander Cain sniffed the air cautiously. She was about to ask the man what was wrong when Captain Kagth entered the conference room decked out in full regalia and the new Wildfire insignia plastered on the left side of his vest.

"Captain Kagth, it's you," Cain laughed. "I thought I smelled you coming down the hall."

"Cain, it is good you're an old man," Kagth retorted. "Otherwise I would be compelled to kill you."
The Klingon smiled. Cain was older than he was but due to the transporter accident he looked like he was in his late thirties, early forties-the perfect image of a true command warrior. The perfect human Kagth thought. It was good that he was Colonial and not Federation otherwise he would be ruined by now.

Janeway simply rolled her eyes. Those two were becoming the best of friends. What that meant for the universe only God knew.

Both men slapped each one on the other's shoulder and sat down.

Picard waited patiently for everyone to be seated before he began. The doors close and were then sealed. Two guards stationed themselves in front of the doors to make sure they were not disturbed.

"Captains," Picard started. "Starfleet Command and the Klingon Empire Joint Operations have designated the people in this room to be the spearhead of a first strike against the heart of the Cylon base located in the Katasi star system. We have waited because we needed time to organize the ships and materials to be an effective force against the sheer power the Cylons will throw into this fight. Our objective is to destroy the subspace weapon at any and all costs. We cannot allow them to repeat the brutal assault that was done against the planet Romulus. The Romulan Empire has been effectively neutralized and it is clear we are next on their list. The Enterprise-E and my battle group, along with the Fifth Klingon Attack fleet will wedge an opening allowing the Wildfire group to attack and destroy the weapon. Then elements of both governments will eliminate all opposition. Our second objective is to damage or destroy the factory complex rendering it inoperative."

There was absolute silence in the room. The possibility for success was remote. The Cylon warships were gathered and they knew that an attack was imminent. They would be prepared and thousands of lives would be lost.

Janeway stood up. "It's not as bad as the picture we've just painted, everyone. We understand our weaknesses. Yes, many of our Captains and command staff have graduated directly from the Dominion wars and are, shall we say a touch rash in their actions. The same thing goes for the Klingons. They're not fully seasoned but they are aggressive that's exactly what we need in this coming war. This isn't a fight for conquest but for our very survival. There can be no negotiations with these robots and they have made their mandate quite clear. We must be as resolved in our hearts as they are in their programming. Plus, we will have a little surprise in store for them. Also you know that extermination is not their end goal. They want to capture and control the children of V'Ger and we cannot allow that to happen. If they achieve that goal, everything that we've worked and died for will be tossed away. They can't get those kids, which is why the Battlestar Galactica will not be in this conflict. Neither will Voyager or the Klingon vessel Swift Hunter. Their mission will be to find the children before the Cylons do. The working quantum slipstream drives will be installed on all three ships in about five weeks and together they will find the children. We have the general directions provided by Q and will find them. But to do that, we will have to go through the territory of the Yongi-Sinhindrea. By the way they were described by Q, he's not happy that we're going there. Evidently the make our encounters with the Borg seem like a warm-up exercise."
She shivered as she recalled the things Q had told her concerning these creatures.
"Commander Sheba will be in charge of the Battlestar Pegasus which will also serve as the command center for the Wildfire strike," said Captain Picard. "Commander Cain will penetrate the Cylon command center and attempt to do as much damage as possible while we engage the enemy ships and the factory complex.

"Excuse me, Captain Picard," Cain said. "I don't attempt things, I will do it."

The man was smarting from the un-intentioned insult.

"I apologize, Commander," Picard responded rather coldly.

There was only one way to deal with someone like Cain. Direct with no holds barred. His personality was too willful. He was like a young Kirk without the restraint. He touched a padd and the information appeared on the front screen.

"These are the details..."
***


President Adama sat heavily in his chair onboard the Galactica while his wife rubbed his temples gently. Again he thanked his God that he was wise enough to marry this woman. She was his comfort in his old age and when the time finally came to rest, she would be there sharing everything with her. Despite whatever came, he had her, and the knowledge that they would not go down without a fight. When it came down to it, it was not much, but it gave him faith.
President's log yahren twenty-three, day seventeen, Adama reporting: I am frightened. I fear for my people. I fear for my brethren who have given so much to help us. The stakes are so much higher now. Never did I imagine that a war, a brutal one but a simple war nevertheless would come to this. But now there's a possibility that these Cylons might ascend to godhood. What will we do then? I have no idea in what shape we will be, but I cannot believe that this is the end. There is more in this universe that we can imagine. Not the Q, not the ships of lights, not Count Iblis, can shake my faith in this. For all those others who have died in this foolish, foolish war, I can only say that we will strive to make sure that you have not died in vain.

So to my children, to my posterity I can say that freedom is precious and is not to be taken lightly. It is a horrible fact, but a true one nevertheless. The blood of heroes keeps us free. And the blood of heroes keeps us in bondage. Until we can lay down our arms in peace we will remain in bondage. Until that time comes we will fight, not because we want to but because we have too. It is a horrible solution to a horrible problem but it's the best solution we have for now.

These memories are for the future to contemplate and argue over. Whether we were right or wrong in our endeavor will be discussed in the future generations-if any. For me, it will not matter what conclusions are derived from this but I pray my people will have the opportunity to argue over the semantics. We have united to destroy the Cylon menace before it destroys us and I pray with every bit of power that I possess that we will succeed.

"President Adama," the intercom blared breaking him out of his contemplations. "Your presence is requested on the bridge."

It never ended.

He slowly got up, embraced his wife and moved towards the lift.

Next: The katasi conflict and the Search for V’ger

[Albert Green]

The Katasi war/ Search for V’ger

Prelude



USS ENTERPRISE-E:
Time: 2 months Earlier

Captain Janeway watched with intense interest the moment she saw Commander Cain sniff the air ever so cautiously. She was about to ask the man what was wrong, when Captain Kagth entered the conference room decked out in full regalia and the new Wildfire insignia plastered on the left side of his vest.

“Captain Kagth, it’s you,” Cain laughed. “I thought I smelled you coming down the hall.”

“Cain, it is good you’re an old man,” Kagth retorted. “Otherwise I would be compelled to kill you.” The Klingon smiled. Cain was older than he was, but due to the transporter accident he looked like he was in his late thirties, early forties-the perfect image of a true command warrior. The perfect Human Kagth thought. It is good that he is Colonial and not Federation otherwise he would be ruined by now.

Both men slapped each one on the other’s shoulder and sat down. Janeway simply rolled her eyes. Those two were becoming the best of friends. What that meant for the universe only God knew.



Picard waited patiently for everyone to be seated before he began. The doors close and were then sealed. Two guards stationed themselves in front of the doors to make sure they were not disturbed.

“Captains,” Picard started. “Starfleet Command and the Klingon Empire Joint Operations have designated the people in this room to be the spearhead of a first strike against the heart of the Cylon base located in the Katasi star system. We have waited because we needed time to organize the ships and materials to be an effective force against the sheer power the Cylons will throw into this fight. Our objective is to destroy the subspace weapon at any and all costs. We cannot allow them to repeat the brutal assault that was done against the planet Romulus. The Romulan Empire has been effectively neutralized and it is clear we are next on their list. The Enterprise-E and my battle group, along with the Fifth Klingon Attack fleet will wedge an opening allowing the Wildfire group to attack and destroy the weapon. Then elements of both governments will eliminate all opposition. Our second objective is to damage or destroy the factory complex rendering it inoperative.”

There was absolute silence in the room. The possibility for success was remote. The Cylon warships were gathered and they knew that an attack was imminent. They would be prepared and thousands of lives would be lost.

Captain Janeway stood up. “It’s not as bad as the picture we’ve just painted, everyone. We understand our weaknesses. Many of our Captains and command staff have graduated directly from the Dominion wars and are, shall we say, a touch rash in their actions. The same thing goes for the Klingons. They’re not fully seasoned, but they are aggressive that’s exactly what we need in this coming war. This isn’t a fight for conquest but for our very survival. There can be no negotiations with these robots and they have made their mandate quite clear. We must be as resolved in our hearts as they are in their programming. Plus, we will have a little surprise in store for them. Also, know that extermination is not their end goal. They want to capture and control the children of V’ger and we cannot allow that to happen. If they achieve that goal, everything that we’ve worked and died for will be tossed away. They can't get those kids, which is why the Battlestar Galactica will not be in this conflict. Neither will Voyager or the Klingon vessel Swift Hunter. Their mission will be to find the children before the Cylons do. The working first quantum slipstream drives will be installed on all three ships in about five weeks and together they will find the children. We have the general directions provided by Q and will find them. But to do that, we will have to go through the territory of the Yongi-Sinhidrea. By the way they were described by Q, he’s not happy that we’re going there. Evidently they make our encounters with the Borg seem like a warm-up exercise.”

She shivered as she recalled the things Q had told her concerning these creatures.

“Commander Sheba will be in charge of the Battlestar Pegasus which will also serve as the command center for the Wildfire strike,” said Captain Picard. “Commander Cain will penetrate the Cylon command center and attempt to do as much damage as possible while we engage the enemy ships and the factory complex.

“Excuse me, Captain Picard,” Cain said. “I don’t attempt things, I will do it.” The man was smarting from the un-intentioned insult.

“I apologize, Commander,” Picard responded rather coldly.

There was only one way to deal with someone like Cain. Direct with no holds barred. His personality was too willful. He was like a young Kirk without the restraint.

The Head of Starfleet Command, flanked by two Admirals and a small army of attachés, entered the room. "Sorry for being late," she said without preamble. “These are the details…”




The Katasi Conflict-The Ruinations war



Chapter I



Time: The present

President Adama sat heavily in his chair onboard the Galactica while his wife rubbed his temples gently. Again he thanked his God that he was wise enough to marry this woman. She was his comfort in his old age and when the time finally came to rest, she would be there, sharing everything with him. Despite whatever came, he had her, and the knowledge that they would not go down without a fight. When it came down to it, it wasn’t much, but just enough to give him faith.

President’s log yahren twenty-three, day seventeen, Adama reporting: I am frightened. I fear for my people. I fear for my brethren who have given so much to help us. The stakes are so much higher now. Never did I imagine that a war, a brutal but simple war nevertheless would come to this. Now there’s a possibility that these Cylons might ascend to godhood. And what will we do then? I have no idea in what shape we will be, but I cannot believe that this is the end. There is more in this universe that we can imagine. Not the Q, not the ships of lights, not Count Iblis, can shake my faith in this. For all those others who have died in this foolish, foolish war, I can only say that we will strive to make sure that you have not died in vain.

So to my children, to my posterity I can say that freedom is precious and is not to be taken lightly. It is a horrible fact, but a true one nevertheless. The hot blood of heroes keeps us free. And that same blood keeps us in bondage. Until we can lay down our arms in peace we will remain in bondage. Until that time comes we will fight, not because we want to but because we have too. It is a horrible answer to a horrible problem but it’s the best solution we have for now.

These memories are for the future to contemplate and argue over. Whether we were right or wrong in our endeavor will be discussed in the future generations-if any. For me, it will not matter what conclusions are derived from this but I pray my people will have the opportunity to argue over the semantics. We have united to destroy the Cylon menace before it destroys us and I pray with every bit of power that I possess that we will succeed.
***

“President Adama,” the intercom blared breaking him out of his contemplations. “Your presence is requested on the bridge.”

It never ended.

He slowly got up, embraced his wife and moved towards the lift.

As soon-to-be-retired President Adama moved towards the lift, every crewmember that looked at him stood more erect, somehow appearing taller as though he had somehow imparted a bit of his own strength to them. He felt humbled by it. After all these yahrens, they still expected him to pull out a miracle in order to somehow save them all.

He wasn’t a miracle worker, merely a man carrying the most heavy of burdens. Adama was afraid. He was afraid to give them hope during a time when they needed it the most. How he had gotten to this point was something that plagued him more and more recently. He was old now. The wisdom was there as was the knowledge, still intact, but the body was wearing down. He was past retirement age, but he couldn’t yet because of the people. To the people he was a pillar, a rock that could survive the ages. But he didn’t feel like it. The Cylon Empire was more powerful than ever and he feared that one mistake, one miscalculation and Mankind would become extinct. There had been times when those fears had nearly consumed him.

There was no time for this introspection, this doubt that ate at him. Victory is lost first in the mind he repeated to himself. Apollo and the others are more than capable of defending our people no matter what happens to me. I’m not foolish enough to believe that I alone can make the difference.

“Is that truly what you believe, Adama, old friend?”

Adama whirled around, finding himself suddenly in a place completely unfamiliar to him. Where was he? Nothing was the same. This was no ship; it was a planet. One moment he was in the lift with his ever-present security guards and the next…

He was alone on a distant unknown world. There were three moons overhead of this desolate place. There was almost no light filtering thru the menacing clouds; a kind of twilight covered the entire planet. There was no apparent plant or animal life around and the wind blew furiously enough to make him squint against the grit battering his tired eyes. And it was cold, cold enough to make him shiver. He blew into his hands to keep warm, then remembered that hated voice.

“Iblis,” he yelled. “Show yourself!” Temporarily his hatred replaced the cold battering him.

A dark shape slowly formed in front of him, slowly taking on the appearance of a winged hunter, which finally took Humanoid form. It was a creature of the pit, covering itself in the innocence of light.

“I am glad that you remember me, old friend,” the creature said trying to imply true concern. “The years have not been kind to you. I can feel it. Death has placed his hands upon you Adama, but it has not yet snatched you away. But you can feel its claws encircling you, can't you?” he asked smiling.

“Iblis, what do you want?” the Colonial asked tiredly. “Why have you persisted in hounding a people that you consider lower than insects?”

Because you are here,” Iblis whispered shaking the planet with his fury. “You should have been mine, but you even took her away from me and that is something that I cannot permit to go unpunished.”

Adama’s fear was broken by that revelation. This super-powered being was still smarting because Sheba was taken from his dark embrace? Was he truly that petty? “We rejected you and we still reject you.”

“And look at where it’s gotten you, President Adama.” Iblis moved away slowly and with a grand gesture, pointed towards the sky. “You’re old when you didn’t have to be. Your people are about to be destroyed and Humanity will cease to exist because you persisted in coming to find the lost thirteenth colony. The Federation, the Klingons, none of the others will prevail against my children. Blood will flow throughout the quadrant and it will be your fault. And I will watch as my children take the heads of your children, your Federation friends and your wife before they collect yours. There is no hope for peace unless you decide what you want right now.”

Adama was afraid now for an entirely different reason. It seemed as though Iblis was offering him a deal and with that revelation, his fear doubled.

“I will give you life and youth Adama, just like Cain,” he said, smiling evilly. “Your children will live and your wife will be beautiful and young forever, if you want. Your people will live in peace and the Cylons will trouble you no more.”

“At what price?”

“At what price?” The not-man’s smile was typically grandiose. “There’s always a price, Adama. Does it matter what it is?”

“There are things that come at too high a price, even in order to save the galaxy.”

“The Alpha quadrant will burn, Adama. There’s nothing that will change that, but your people can live, because I choose to let them live-if you agree with my price.”

“And that is?”

Iblis moved closer, almost touching nose to nose with the President, which made the man back away in revulsion. “Your absolute allegiance and the life of Sheba and your son, Commander Apollo of the Battlestar Galactica,” Iblis told him without cracking a smile.

Adama’s heart nearly stopped beating. “Never.”

“Then you will all die horribly. I promise this, old man.”

“We will not submit to you, ever,” answered Adama, surprised that his voice had gained some of its strength. “You’re not worthy of worship.”

“I am God,” the creature hissed at the defiant Human standing in front of him. Around them both, the sky had darkened and there was the sound of thunder in the distance. His facial features never changed, but Adama could detect the shadows beginning to engulf Iblis as his anger grew.

“You are not God, not even a pale imitation. You have power but even you are limited. If you were God we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. Remember so many years ago, when you ask me what did I know of God? I know that God is not paralyzed with pettiness as you are. It has been said that absolute power corrupts absolutely, but that is simply Human understanding. But you fall within that definition; therefore you’re nowhere near what God should be. We cannot, will not ever submit to one such as you.”

“That’s telling him,” came a soft voice off to the side. Both Adama and his captor turned towards the new voice.

“Q,” Iblis smirked, after he recovered from his own surprise. “Or should I say Amanda?” For a second it seemed as if he wanted to embrace her, but stopped short as he looked deeply into her hooded eyes. “What’s the matter with Q? Is he too afraid to come? And where is my young friend Trelane. I so hoped he would be trailing you. Tell me, have you seduced him yet?”

Despite his taunting, Adama realized that the creature was surprised to see this young girl instead of the arrogant male who also called himself Q.

“If you’re worried about him, then maybe you should go look for him. He’s been quite busy,” she answered. Adama felt the power in her voice.

Completely unfazed, Iblis responded to her taunt. “He can't do anything to me.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she responded. Ignoring, him she turned to Adama. “You’re correct. He isn’t God, not even close. He wouldn’t know That –Which-Is-God, if that Entity walked up and bit him on the butt. He’s a trickster and a fraud. His own pettiness and fears blind him to the truth.”

Enraged, Iblis began to draw the gathering storm into himself. “You know nothing of God! If it were permitted, I would destroy you now.” His image began to waver as he lost partial control of his physical manifestation.

“You are wrong,” she countered. “ Besides God doesn’t need permission. I am Q and I am the first of my kind to glimpse the truth. And understand this, coward. The Humans were closer to the truth than we are.”

“I am Q,” he mocked as he looked at Adama. “She says that as though it means something.” He began laughing, a truly hideous sound. “They’re nothing but pitiful, castrated beings with delusions of grandeur. Don’t depend on them to save you Adama, because they won't. Only I can do that.”

The Colonial President watched the exchange with passionate interest. This seemingly young girl stood her ground against one of the galaxy’s most vile creatures and that somehow gave him strength. “I will not accept your ‘deal’, Iblis. It comes at too high a price. If we lose then so be it, but we will never lick the boots of the Destroyer. We will do everything in own power to stop you.”

Adama expected Iblis to become enraged and kill him where he stood. Instead the alien creature merely smiled hideously and folded his white cape around him. His eyes turned absolutely black.

“I hoped you would say something like that,” he whispered in a voice that could be heard across the galaxy. “I would have hated keeping my promise to you. Life is very short, old friend,” he said as he slowly faded away. Live what short time you have left wisely.”

Adama was so concerned about Iblis that he, for a second, had forgotten about Amanda who now touched him on the shoulder. Startled, he turned to face the young blond, female Q.

“I admire your bravery,” she said to him. “It would have been nothing for him to kill you, yet you stood up to him and interfered with his plans. Now, because of your defiance, he hates you and all of your people that much more.”

“I believe that you misunderstand him, Amanda. It’s not just me. He hates all life, everything. There’s nothing for him in this existence and he will destroy all that he touches because there is nothing that can touch his heart. Look around you, young woman. His heart is as empty as this planet we’re on. How can we fight against something like that?”

“Merely by trying with all your might,” came the answer. “You choose what you are. Don’t stand back and simply watch like the Q have done for so long. Act, search and grow. Fight the emptiness with the passion in your soul. Strive to become everything that the Q and the others have forgotten.”

“She is right, you know,” said a voice from behind, surprising both of them. It originated from a tall man with regal manner that permeated his entire being.

“Who are you?” Adama asked. Suddenly, this isolated, lonely sphere seemed to have people popping up from everywhere.

“You can call me John.”

The name struck Adama immediately. “You’re the one my son spoke of.”

“And Starbuck,” he confirmed. “Yes, Amanda is correct. So are you. And that knowledge gives you strength. Terrible times are coming and you and your companions are the only ones who can stop it.”

“But, I don’t understand,” Adama said. “Why can't you stop this? You have enough power to stop Iblis where he stands. This entire war and the countless millions that will be killed can be stopped now by reining Iblis in.”

“There are complications,” John explained. “We cannot interfere directly with lesser cultures for the same reasons why the Federation created the Prime Directive and you, your Principles of First Contact with Alien Cultures Edict.”

“But Iblis is one of you,” Adama protested. “You claim to have him under a leash, under control, but he continues to destroy countless millions with his manipulations and lies. And you do nothing, but restrict his movements, slap him on his wrists and let him go his way.”

“And what would you have us do, kill him?”

“No, not necessarily. But I have to wonder exactly what type of life is of value to you? Ours? Simple mortals whose time in this universe can be measured in nano-microns as compared to your almost infinite life spans? You could have stopped him long before this, yet you didn’t. And the result has been untold misery for beings you consider at the least dust motes, and at most some type of pet.”

“Life is sacred to us. You wouldn’t understand.”

“There is a price for every choice we make,” Adama said. “When he is free, there is suffering. Iblis should have been put away like the madden animal he is, but you let him loose in the universe. That makes you responsible. You have said that ‘I didn’t understand’. What I have come to understand is that although you do care for us, the life of one of yours is worth more than the billions that have died as a result of this evil running free. I suspect that you, like so many of us are afraid of what lies beyond and you can't accept that even if a cancer like Iblis must be cut out.”

“My parents became Human and were killed by the Q because they were afraid of what they represented,” Amanda said. “Then they went out of their way to keep Quinn alive when he wanted to die. The members of the Continuum were terrified of what might happen. I believe that is a fault of existing such a long time. We’ve become afraid of the inevitability of death. It would be something new different.”

“Death comes to us all. After all, we are not God, only His creations.”

“It’s a discussion for another time, Mr. President. John looked at Adama as if peering into his very soul. “Young you may be, but you do have a touch of insight.”

“It’s called the Human equation, John,” Amanda answered. “They’re learning what we have so long ago forgotten.”

“We will deal with Iblis,” John answered with conviction. “At the correct time. I promise.”

“But there is another difficulty.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask.”

“As well you should,” Amanda whispered.

John gave a sympathetic nod. “There’s a problem with time.”

“Time? I don’t understand.”

“There is something called a temporal cold war being fought by beings like yourself.”

“Beings like me,” repeated Adama, tasting the words in his mouth. Nodding, he understood. “You mean us lesser beings,” he said somewhat sarcastically.

“Yes, although I wouldn’t put it quite like that. Things have been changing quite rapidly since the treaty of Organia a hundred yahrens ago. Temporal waves have changed this universe in ways that are even taxing our considerable skills to keep up with. The Klingons are just one example of the radical changes occurring.”

“Captain Archer’s Enterprise is another,” Amanda added.

The Colonial didn’t know about this Captain Archer or the details of the other references, but he remained silent as the young woman continued.

“The Cylon Empire is another example of numerous changes we’ve detected. Originally there were cyborgs and when a wave front hit, they became the robotic entities that you know now.”

“But that means that things are changing around us constantly and we know nothing about it.”

“True. But we are aware of it and can do very little because we are ourselves affected by those changes. And we can’t stop those who are fighting this war without causing incredible damage ourselves. But we are ourselves being changed each time an alteration occurs. The Organians could not enforce the treaty because conditions in the universe continued-continues to change and those alterations are extending to other realities as well.”

The implications of what was being said to him were truly horrible. “But how did this begin?”

“Like most things, it began with the paved road of good intentions. In the twenty-seventh century, Earth chronology, the war that began in the twentieth was coming to a bloody end. An unstoppable enemy had ruthlessly dominated this galaxy and two others. Earth was finally overrun and destroyed, as was Vulcan and a hundred other worlds. In this galaxy there were only a few free, widely scattered planets left and they were being slowly battered into submission. A desperate plan was conceived, something that itself was so vile that the resistance leaders had refused to even contemplate its use until then.”

“They saved themselves by using a temporal displacement device that allowed them to travel seventeen thousand years into the past. There they traced the enemy’s planet of origin and detonated a bio-transgenetic weapon coded specifically for the enemy DNA, effectively committing genocide. Then using a cascading subspace resonator, the wormhole technology used by the enemy to travel throughout this galaxy and the others were activated at once. In the resultant feedback, all of the devices but one were destroyed.”

“All but one,” Adama repeated. “All but the point of origin?”

“Very good. This device was the only one left in the universe, which remains on Kobol until this day. That stargate is the only one in existence.”

“The star circle!”

“Yes,” John confirmed. “Time and the events had been changed. Those who created the temporal device planned, of course, to use the technology for good but the temptation was too alluring. A war broke out and the winners began to use the devices to shape this galaxy in their image. However there are others have fought against these changes and this is the main thrust of the temporal cold war. And there have been major causalities.”

“But without the threat from the enemy, the Humans, Vulcans and countless others social development developed completely differently. Wormhole and hyperspace travel was never developed but warp and other FTL technologies excelled. However, the universe hates a vacuum and with the Goa’uld no longer present, another took its place; the Ciona Imperixe.

“The Federation and Klingons have become a major threat to the future plans of the temporal guild. So they attempted to repeat their previous success by destroying the effectiveness of the two empires, having them go to war against one another. The most effective ploy was to send the Enterprise-C back into time, creating an incident in which the Federation would be at war with the Klingons, effectively breaking both organizations and blunting the future successes of both. But the others fought back, re-directing it towards the Enterprise-D and together the timeline was corrected, more or less. There were unforeseen difficulties, however.”

"The instant the Enterprise-C once more entered the temporal opening, fractures in the time-line occurred as a nexus formed at this critical point. Q and Quinn were able to mend most of the fractures before they became un-repairable, but two were lost and ripped their way into other universes completely unrelated to this one. There was also another ship lost. In an infinity of corrections, three were lost.”

“If the Q couldn’t completely repair these rips in the neo-quantum strata without permanently damaging the timelines, no one else would even attempt it," John added. "Even we have limits.”

Adama looked dejected. “Then we are on our own.”

“No. You are not alone. Within our restrictions we will guide you. A suggestion,” he added. “Beware the Imperixe and the Borg.”

“And I will give you a parting gift,” Amanda added before he could ask anything more. Tigh is alive and safe with Captain Amelia Earhart. Ask Captain Janeway about him.”

Both Amanda and John smiled and in a flash of light, Adama was gone.

“We should have told him about the Yongi-Sinhindrea.”

“We will,” John said. “When the time comes to close that particular universal rift forever." He sighed as he remembered the quantum fracture Enterprise-Galaxy class, the Enterprise-Ambassador class and the Klingons chasing them, entered the temporal-spatial rift, these copies reversed polarity with their universe of origin. "If those crews and those ships were to come back our home universe it would negate them in a very spectacular manner in favor for the original templates already present here. Their ancestors could return but not them or the ships that originally went with them. The Enterprises-C and D must not be allowed to return to this reality. It’s a true shame, really.”

Sadly, Amanda shook her head in complete agreement. “Yes, it is.”
***

[Albert Green]

Chapter II



President Adama found himself once more inside the lift surrounded by his three security guards. They had no clue that anything had been amiss he noticed. But it was obvious that they had noticed that he looked pale.

“Mr. President, are you okay?” The primary guard asked.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he said absently as he exited the lift. Now inside the Command Bridge, he looked at it as though seeing it for the first time. The combination of old and new surprised him. Gone were the oversized support struts and the deep red lights. The whole room had been streamlined, re-organized. Now the command chairs were centered with a three hundred sixty degree viewing area and a much larger viewing window made of reinforced transparent aluminum. There was an enlarged screen directly in front of the command chair.

Seeing him, Captain Apollo and Sire Forsen immediately moved towards him

“It almost looks like an entirely different ship,” said the excited Captain. “Father. I…” he stopped, seeing his father’s distressed look. “Is there something wrong?”

“Yes. I had a talk with Count Iblis.”

An immediate look of alarm started over Apollo’s face. “Here? Where is he?”

“Don’t be concerned,” his father admonished. “He wasn’t actually here, but I was moved to another reality, another world.”

“Why?” His father’s answer didn’t even astonish him, not after hearing of Q. Iblis had the same power.

“Because he had a desire to inflict more pain. However, he revealed more of himself than he intended to.”

“In what way?” Forsen asked. “Why would he contact you, now?”

I believe he wants revenge on me personally, by punishing those that I love. He want me to sacrifice you and Sheba in order to overt this war. He wanted me to become a willing follower of his. I said no.”

“And what did he do?”

“Nothing,” his father answered. “I gave him the answer that he wanted to hear. He’s consumed by anger and hatred of all things not under his control and what he can't control he need to destroy. He’s a lost soul.”

Adama saw the hostile look that the future President bestowed upon him. “You sound as though you feel sorry for that monster,” Forsen alleged.

“No, I don’t feel sorry for him,” Adama countered. “He’s chosen to be this way and the consequences of his own destruction will be upon his own head. But he attempted to fill me with despair and he failed. Instead, I’m filled with hope. John and Amanda have given me hope.”

The name Amanda meant nothing to either man, the name John struck Apollo like lightning. “You saw John?”

“Yes. They told me that Tigh is alive and well." The glow on his face was unmistakable. "When I needed it, I now have been reminded once more that no matter how bad the situation appears, there’s always hope.”

“Good because we need some,” Forsen announced matter-of-factly.

The President caught the hint. “Is that why you called me to the bridge?”

“Yes. Were having difficulties with Commander Cain. He’s insisting that the Wildfire squadron attack the central plexus directly.”

“He will stick to the plan.” Adama was angry, as angry as has he had been frightened confronting Iblis a short time earlier. “Or, I will relieve him of duty. Where is he?”

That was exactly what I told him, but I’m sure he dismissed it. And that’s another problem. He’s too arrogant and that going to get us all killed. He doesn’t listen.”

“That always been his problem. He’s a military genius but when he will not follow orders, I will draw the line. Where is he?” Adama repeated.

“He’s on his way right now.”

Four Federation starships continued their patrols along the Cardassian-Federation border, newly established in the wake of the Dominion war. These days it was quiet. Cardassia was no longer an Empire as such. The war had taken an ugly twist as their Dominion associates had turned on them, killing tens of millions of citizens in retaliation for a relatively small number of the military who changed sides once certain truths had surfaced. The Cardies had come to the brutal realization that they hadn’t been allies, but simply considered as minor subjects to the Founders of the Dominion. The planet survived but the government was still recovering and the Imperial fleet was a shell of its former self. There were still pockets of starvation in certain areas of the planet but the much-coveted Federation replication technology was correcting that problem. Then there was the re-establishment of ties-much friendlier ties- with their neighbor Bajor. That was a challenge in itself, as the Cardassians had subjugated them for decades, under the worst of conditions. There was still intense hatred on both sides but Cardassia had sent envoys and with open minds on both sides, anything was possible.

Now there were border incursions happening on both sides more and more often by the Orion Cartels and small time smugglers. Several deaths had occurred and the Cardassian defense force was hard-pressed to stop the infiltrations. Still, it was their territory and they would protect it with everything they possessed. And they had little to fear from the Federation, Klingons or the Romulans-what was left of them. In fact, the Cardi government quietly welcomed these little border patrols.



Captain Ludmia Putnam, commanding the Nova-class USS Peking, raised one eyebrow when the large Cardassian Galor shadowing them, moved into an intercept course. Its shields were down and weapons systems were non-active, therefore it represented a low threat. Besides, she knew the Gul of this vessel fairly well.

"Hail them," she ordered.

"Hailing frequencies open," came the swift response from the Comms Officer.

"Greetings Gul Dachat," the Captain said. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm just here to offer friendly conversation," the tall bone-faced Humanoid answered pleasantly. Then he laughed. "And to make sure that the Federation doesn’t violate our space." He seemed to eye the dark-haired, green-eyed Captain with more than just casual interest.

Putnam nodded; respectful ignoring the almost-leers, then began smirking. "And here I thought that you were after some more of this Rigellian wine. My mistake."

The Gul responded quickly since this was the reason why he was here in the first place. He and his officers had developed a taste for the beverage. "No, no," he answered. "You're here and in the name of mutual cooperation between our two sovereign governments, I will accept your generous gift."

"I'll send it right over." The Captains mood turned sober. "I've heard rumors that the Cylons have requested that you sign a non-aggression pact with them. Is there any truth to this?"

"None whatsoever," Dachat stated. "Those robots have invaded our territories and destroyed several of our transports and freighters deep inside our domain. Our government is in an uproar. Of course, the Cylons insisted that those were mistakes that will never happen again. Their rumored association with the Borg is something that has disturbed our Government also. So our Leadership has decided to remain neutral. This is not our fight."

Putnam could tell that the Gul didn’t believe what he had just said for a second. But the Cardassians were scared that the weapon used against the Romulans would be used against them. That itself was a strong deterrent. But equally important was their hatred of Humanity and it had been shown that the Cardassians, Romulans, Humans and the Klingons had at least some common genetic history and that meant that the Cylons would eventually turn their electronic eyes towards them also. There was no such thing as neutrality-they knew it and so did the Cylons. And with the Borg as allies then the entire Alpha and Beta quadrants were in danger of slaughter or assimilation. Neutrality was not a long-term option. But it would give them time to strengthen their defenses.

"It is my hope that they decide not to use that weapon against us."

"But they might."

"There is that possibility," he admitted. The he stared hard into her eyes trying to convey the hidden message within. "Things change, Captain. And so do opinions."

"Captain, long range sensors have picked up three ships," her first officer interrupted. "Triangular formation, three hundred million kilometers, closing fast."

"Can we get a positive ID this time?" This was the fourth instance of unknown targets closing on their position.

"We're attempting to burn thru the scattering field. Got 'em. They're Cylon, two Hunter-Killers and a larger one. The configuration's on the larger is roughly the same but four times larger…it's a Destroyer."

The Captain stood up to get a better view of the screen. They were definitely Cylon, but why were they so far from their usual patrols? Usually their raids were much closer to their territories, not out here in the middle of nowhere. Which meant here, along the border.

"Captain Putnam?"

"Yes, Gul Dachat."

“We have them on sensors. Be advised that we will do nothing unless they violate our space. Good luck."

"Thank you," she answered. "Open a channel to our support. Let them know what's happening."

"Yes, Ma’am.” A few seconds later: “They're vectoring in on our position now."

Engagements against the Cylon enemy had become more and more frequent in the last few weeks as Alpha quadrant ships defended and attacked large numbers of Raiders that had harassed shipping and refugees struggling to get out of the line of fire. Cardassian and Bajoran ships had been attacked several times but those had been sporadic strikes at best.

H-Ks accompanied by a Destroyer they may be, but that was not enough to confront three Defiants and their larger, more powerful Nova sister. The Nova-class starship patterned after the popular Defiants, were the long-distance, more comfortable, quantum-torpedo carrier gunships. They contained a third more firepower and were closer in appearance to the so-called typical designed starship. As with all Federation starships there was a fight whether to build it not considering, that the Nova-B was strictly a warship like the Defiant models. More and more the Federation was straddling that fine division between their true charter-and warmongering. At least that was the opinion by people who weren’t out here fighting for their lives in the first place.

Personally, the Captain thought the whole thing was foolish. They had enemies out here, very dangerous ones. Why shouldn’t they have dedicated warships to handle the conflicts that appear to be becoming more and more frequent with each passing stardate? The purity and innocence of exploration was stupid when the Borg were prowling the space lanes looking for fresh meat. They were moving into new areas of space where circumstances demanded that colonies be protected and the starships as well. No one intended to start a fight with the Borg or the Dominion-even though in that case we did very arrogantly violate their territory, she had to admit. But with things like the one-eyed, robot heads, roaming space attacking anything that even resembled Humanity at any given opportunity, she was glad to have a Nova-B and the Defiants in the field.

Like right now.

Three ships in the open-it’s not right. The targets are too tempting Putnam thought. “Tactical. Perform a tachyon pulse and lets see what happens.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tactical answered. Coordinating with the other Fed ships, they quickly blanketed the area with tachyon particles. The first of three-cloaked Hellions Basestar appeared on the scanners. It was almost on top of them.

With the discovery by the Federation ships, the advantage of surprise was lost and the rearmost, massive Cylon carrier de-cloaked, spewing large numbers of Raiders, Hunter-Killers and several Destroyers.

My God.

Putnam never heard her voice saying ‘fire’ even though she remembered giving the command to use everything they had at the closest Basestar. Three-dozen high yield quantum torpedoes impacted on the still partially cloaked Cylon vessel since there was a lag time of four seconds for a Basestar to de-cloak and its shields were not yet active. The antimatter projectiles slammed into re-enforced armor, tearing large holes in the surface of the upper portion of the ship. Entire sections of the superstructure glowed, and then vaporized as the combine firepower of three mini-warships pounded the oversized carrier. The ship lost lateral control and began an uncontrolled tumble.

“They’ve never sent a carrier force this far out,” her First Officer yelled over the increasing din. “We have to run!”

She was in complete agreement. They were totally outmatched and outgunned. The smaller Cylon fighters hadn’t even gotten into range yet. If she could help it they wouldn’t. “Prepare for emergency warp!”

Already the Defiants were moving out and away. The Peking rocked violently as anti-proton beams from the other two Basestars raked the shields, which promptly winked out. She let loose another savage volley of photon torpedoes at a rate of four per second at the next closest Basestar bearing down on her. The incredible explosions totally enveloped the attacking baseship.

It didn’t even slow it down.

Some type of missile, as big as the USS Yorkshire itself, over-ran it in warp and had exploded with the power of a directed eight hundred megaton antimatter strike. The ship disappeared in fire just as it reached warp two. The fourth Defiant had been engaged by three Cylon Destroyers and was being chopped to pieces by the large ships. However it was giving as well as it got even as its warp core breeched. It took the nearest Cylon warship with it in death.

The fight had lasted less than a minute. Only the Peking and the Quatran had survived the encounter so far, but the enemy hadn’t given up yet. There were three missiles tracking them, the same type that had killed the Yorkshire. When they had gone to warp, so had those missiles.

“Our shields lasted two seconds, two seconds!” Putnam’s Tactical officer was still stunned by the ruthlessness of the attack. “The fighters are vectoring in on the Galor which was in a brutal fight of its own-so much for borders. “They’ve called for help.”

“Who’s responding?”

“Every Cardassian in the area, all of them. The Cylons are taking up station keeping at the border and releasing more ships. Look’s like they’re there to stay, Ma’am.”

“How long before we have our shields back,” she yelled. It was getting hard to breathe. The air filters were having a hard time clearing out the smoke from the bridge.”

“The shield generators burned out completely. They’ll have to be replaced.”

“What about the missiles? Time to impact?”

“Thirty seconds. These are the same type that tried to take out Voyager in the Mariposa system.”

That was not what the crew wanted to hear.

“Lock on a full spread of quantums and photon torpedoes on those missiles,” she quickly ordered. “Get me the Quatran.”

The Navigational officer, looking haggard appeared on screen. There was an ugly gash on his forehead. Behind him, she could see that the bridge was a mess with the dead spewed everywhere. “Here, sir.”

It was clear that most of the bridge officers were dead. “Do you have weapons?”

“Yes, but only one quantum launcher. But we can't keep maximum warp for long. Maybe another three minutes, no more.”

A quick look her tactical officer who scanned the ship confirmed what he had said. “Lock onto the missile tracking you.”

“Locking…locked.”

“Use a full spread…and fire.”

“Firing,” he said as twelve quantum torpedoes streaked from the rear of the fleeing ships. A second later the Peking did the same thing. A dozen torpedoes peppered the first missile, overwhelmed its shields and detonating it. However, the second volley wasn’t as successful.

Peking’s Captain jumped from her seat staring in disbelief. “It dodged!”

“Fifteen seconds.”

“Ready a second volley, direct and proximity configuration. Fire when ready.”

“Ready and firing.”

Again the missile dodged the incoming projectiles, but in the process it ran into one of the torpedoes. There was no apparent effect as the missile’s shielding resisted the impact. However it was knocked off trajectory.

“It’s re-acquiring us.”

“Revise estimate. How long?”

“Eighty seconds.”

“How many more torpedoes do we have”?

“Six left.”

Enough of this! This is why we need warships. “Abandon ship,” she ordered. “Have the Quatran match speed with us for high warp transport. Pick up as many of us and the pod as they can when it’s safe.” At maximum warp, half the crew’s life pods would not survive the transition and many of the crew wouldn’t make it to the pods, but there was no choice. The transporters would help. She wanted to live, desperately so, but she wouldn’t abandon her ship while her crewmembers were still onboard. The Quatran matched speed and course and both ships began to transport the crew from the Peking. Others had ejected in pods. Then the Quatran’s warp engine failed and she dropped out of warp a few seconds later.

Twenty-one members including, Captain Putman didn’t make it as the missile detonated in the center of the Peking six seconds later. There was just enough time to scream-

Two hours later, the Quatran began picking up survivors and the warp engines finally returned to life.

The First officer of the Peking was now in charge of the crowded little ship. From the scattered reports, the Cardassians were putting up fierce resistance against the Cylon warships, two more which just entered the sector. The strategic importance was clear. They wanted the area secured to mount a rear guard offensive should it be needed. With the Cardassian border secured they would threaten a large portion of the Federation and Klingon territories by their mere presence. The Federation could never ignore such an overt threat to its back door.

Time had run out he realized. It’s beginning now. Quickly, he briefed the crew and ordered a tight-beamed transmission into the heart of the Federation and Deep Space Nine, which by this action, had just now directly pulled into the war. The Bajorans and the Cardies had better clear up their differences fast, he thought darkly.

[Albert Green]

Chapter III


The Federation Starship Voyager eased out of warp with a grace that belied its substantial power, moving in between the Galactica and the Enterprise to take up station-keeping. It had been delayed but that was understandable considering the circumstances. Captain Picard waited patiently as the re-integration sequence completed itself inside the transporter room.

One of the Ensigns activated the artificial music, signaling the presence of a Command officer arriving.

“Admiral onboard!”

Admiral Kathryn Janeway stepped smartly off the pads followed by five of her staff, and stood in front of the Captain of the Enterprise-E. "Permission to come aboard."

"Permission granted," Picard responded gladly. He was smile intensely and she could tell that he was genuinely glad to see her. "Congratulations, Admiral."

"Thank you." There was a slight smirk in her answer. She had turned it down once when she returned from the Delta quadrant. She had to wind down first and take in everything that had happened in her seven years of exile. She had a family now-the crew of the Voyager-and she wanted time to adjust being home. But the war had put those plans on hold for now. Now she was in charge of the entire Mariposian frontier and one of the key planners in this upcoming conflict.

"We have about twenty minutes before the meeting will began. May we talk in your Ready room?"

"Of course, Admiral."

In silence, they both walked thru the bridge to Picard's private office. Once inside, Picard gave her a warm hug and she responded in kind. “It’s about time, Admiral Janeway.”

“I didn’t expect to have to help orchestrate a war,” she answered as she sat in the chair he offered her. “And I expected to be calling you Admiral first. Why haven’t you taken the promotion?” she asked. “Are you afraid of giving up all this?”

Picard smiled at her sarcastically spoken question. “Someone,” he said, “once told me-and I am paraphrasing this- that as long as I was in this chair, I could make a difference. Do not let them promote you, do not do anything that can change this. And right now I believe I can make that difference.”

“I understand Jean-Luc, but there comes a time when the greater good is to move to something higher. The Command staff needs you. There have been so many good people that have been lost, lost to the Borg, the Dominion, and even those who where taken over by those parasites almost twelve years ago.”

“The Imperixe.” That name haunted him.

That incident had plagued his dreams for years. Years after the incident in which he and Riker personally killed several high-ranking officers infected by alien creatures intent on conquering the Federation literally from the inside. He tried to imagine what it was like to have something inside you controlling one’s every move. Then years later, he encountered the Borg and to his horror, he finally understood all too well. “It’s a case of having too many Chiefs and not enough Braves, Kathryn,” he explained. “Our younger Captains are veterans of the Borg and Dominion conflicts. They’ve been seasoned in battle, but Starfleet is so much more. And we are at a very delicate point in our history. Right now, we need guidance from the upper echelons and in the trenches or we might tip into the abyss. His thoughts fleetingly returned to another time and place. “He understood this.”

“Who?”

“James T. Kirk,” he said to a shocked Janeway. “You had just been lost when I personally met him.”

Kathryn had no idea that he knew Kirk. We’ve been so busy since we’ve come back that I didn’t realize that it was you who found him,” she said in wonder. “What was he like?”

Picard blew a long breath. How best to describe him? “He was a complex man. He was confident, in some ways a little arrogant, and very self-assured. But, I could feel his stability and the depth of his convictions. He represented the pinnacle of the Starfleet of his time. At the same time, the very thing that defined him was the very thing that he blamed his sorrow on in later life.”

Picard sighed once more. “We, as members of Starfleet, have that same chronic problem. One of the rewards of this position that defines us is loneliness. His dream-a simple one really, family, a place to call home and someone to love and grow old with, was denied him. And I must confess that I have had those same feelings. My family-the Picards-I am the last,” he whispered. Even after all these years, the lost of his brother and nephew burned like a white-hot knife stabbed into his gut. “We have saved the Federation, but when night comes, I enter an empty room and wonder ‘is this all there is?’

The Admiral said nothing, apparently lost in thought. Patiently he waited until she was ready to speak once more. Evidently, the conversation had struck home with her as well.

“We all have those feelings, Jean-Luc,” she finally murmured. “Missed opportunities are par for the course. But that is part of the price we pay for being in the front line in Starfleet. I’ve lost someone close to me because of Voyager’s entrapment in the Delta quadrant. Like everyone else, he believed I was dead and moved on with his life. You have no idea how hard it was to maintain my stoic Captain’s face with that revelation. I felt as though I have lost everything. And then there was Chakotay…”

Picard stiffened slightly, enough for Janeway to notice. The last thing he had expected was her opening up like this.

“There was potential there, Captain. And just like you and Beverly, it didn’t work out. I needed to be the Captain of Voyager and command structure had to be in place. He married Anika and honestly I couldn’t be happier for the both of them because it turned out to be the best thing for all of us. We were close, but the timing, or our procrastination, or fate, or whatever, conspired against us.”

“Maybe it was simply fear,” Picard suggested. “That may be the answer for the both of us.”

“Possibly,” she admitted. “Are we that much of control addicts that we subconsciously destroyed our relationships out of fear?”

“I believe that the subconscious ignorance of that fear has directed our relations,” and even as he said the words, he realized that they tasted right. “The same traits that gives us our strengths fuel our weaknesses but we need not to be controlled by them once they are uncovered. However, we have to constantly remind ourselves of those facts.”

“Then where do those facts leave us, Captain Picard?”

“That remains to be seen, Admiral Janeway,” he responded. “You are a remarkable woman and it is my intention to get to know you better. It is something that I wish to explore in the days to come, after we deal with this threat.” Especially he thought, I want to know why she allowed herself to willingly become Borg. What strength did she possess to even attempt such madness? “But the Cylon threat is paramount right now and we must put aside our personal pursuits now. Captain Kirk rejected the promotion and he understood a basic truth that I am just beginning to realize.”

“And that is?”

“We need more stable Braves, even older ones, Admiral. My Riker and bridge crew, and your Chakotay and yours and a few others must form a stable core for the others to remember and follow. We need to be examples. When this is over then hopefully I will be able to re-evaluate my priorities. But right now we need a counterweight against Commander Cain.”

“He is aggressive isn’t he?” She half-grimaced at her own comment. “The Klingons love him and frankly some of the younger Starfleet officers have been drawn to him as well. His flamboyance is like a magnet. We need that type of self-confidence in the coming fight, but this plan of his is suicidal. I have talked to Adama and together we will explain this to him,” she said with absolute conviction.

And the way she said it left no doubt in Picard’s mind that that was exactly what was going to happen. The both got up and headed towards Conference Room one.



Entering the large Conference room, Picard quickly observed President Adama and Colonial President-Elect Forsen, engage in quiet, but heated conversation with a clearly defiant Commander Cain off to one side. There were several Klingon and Federation Officers present also, trying their best to conveniently ignore the arguing trio. The Admiral hadn’t missed it either.

As soon as Picard and Janeway entered conversation quickly died away and everyone took his or her seats.

Picard nodded to everyone. “First, let me began by introducing you to the new Commander of this Sector, Admiral Kathryn Janeway. She and Admirals Avonne and HurShru will be in charge of the Katasi assault.

“Congratulations on your promotion,” Cain said regally bowing slightly. “Perhaps with you in overall command we can finally stop playing defense and finally get this war started. I know the Cylons. Defensive measures are not going to work. We need to attack their central core, destroy their replication factories and most of all, that subspace pulsar before they hit Mariposa, or Vulcan, or Qo’noS, or Earth or any of a dozen other worlds. We need to wipe them out now. Decisive action is what is needed.”

“Everyone here is aware of the threat, Commander,” Jane said, sensing the war-lust permeating the man’s soul. The way he was dressed reminded her of the photos she had seen of the World War two generals fighting in the 1940’s. Cain had an impressive array of Colonial medals and an added feature of a Klingon medallion placed conspicuously on his left side of his chest. Despite his apparent love for himself, she could see how the others could be drawn to him. However she also saw his obvious distain for her authority and this was something she would not tolerate.

“There will be a decisive response, Commander. However, we will follow the plan as designed and if you have any objections concerning it, please let me know so that I can replace you at my earliest opportunity. I will not tolerate any of our Command staff deviating without a very good reason. I’ve went over your request with Wildfire and I believe it’s completely reckless-“

“The plan was carefully-“

“Commander,” Janeway responded viciously. “Don’t presume to interrupt me again!” She glared at him, as he turned beet-red. However, just as quickly he composed himself and she continued. “As I was saying the plan is reckless in its present form. It does have some merit, however Wildfire will not implement it. I have another job for you,” she said. “Unless you chose to remove yourself from this meeting. Is that your wish?”

“No, Ma’am,” he responded strongly, much to Janeway’s and Adama’s relief. “I simply want to maximize our chances to wipe the Cylon scum from the face of this universe.”

The Admiral nodded. “In the last three hours, the situation has changed again. A squadron located near the Cardassian border was attacked and wiped out by large contingent of Cylon warships, now fighting with the Cardassians for control of the border. I don’t need to tell you that this is a very grave threat to our rear. Among others, Bajor, Deep Space Nine and the wormhole are endangered. We can't ignore their presence there and two fleets, one Klingon and one Federation have been sent to engage them and re-establish control of the sector.”

“That’s not good,” Starbuck said. “They’re splitting our forces.”

“Of course,” Adama said. “They don’t want us to hit them en masse.”

“And they wish to delay whatever we have planned against them,” Cain added. “But it’s not going to work. We need to strike now.”

“I agree,” the Admiral said.

In fact, all of them agreed. They had to strike now before the weapon was deployed once more. Romulus, once home to a vast empire and its billions were the first to feel its effects and they were now dust in the wind of a burned and lifeless planet. The Star Empire was desperately re-building their forces on the far edges of their realm but they needed time if they were to survive. What happened to them must never happen again.

“That’s why I’m here,” she announced in a strong voice, slowly watching everyone and being watched in return. “It’s already started. We move in six hours. Commander Cain of the Wildfire Squadron; keep Wildfire out the line of fire and do your job. I am not privy to speak of it yet, but we have something special planned for the Cylon Empire and I don’t want you getting yourself or your people killed in the crossfire. If you Cain, a tactical genius can't see what’s coming then, no one else will either.” She sighed heavily and seemed to age ten years. “There’s going to be enough death for everyone. Don’t rush it.”



The Katasi nebula:

The station was situated in the center of the calmest region of the Katasi nebula. This station contains the central control complex of the subspace minefields that peppered the Katasi nebula, giving them complete control of the safe zone for three cubic parsecs in any direction. Elsewhere the high-energy storms and particles, and extraneous matter was so dense that navigation was impossible. For the most part, it was like traveling through soup. Any ship that attempted to do so was usually destroyed in a matter of minutes, especially befit of shields, which didn’t function in the nebula. The smallest of particles, traveling at almost the speed of light, struck with enough force of kiloton weapon. As a result there were few safe passages thru the nebula that were close enough to be useful and situated where it was, Cylon Base Station Three was considered by everyone to be the heart of the Cylon's line of defense within the Katasi nebula.

Anti-capital disruptors, two Hellion Basestars and two additional divisions of Centurions protected it. Also there were two H-K battalions supported by forty-five of the newer Obliterator class destroyers. Established after the Enterprise incursion, only two ships, the USS Khe Sahn and the Colonial Adder-class destroyer Taura, had managed to avoid destruction by the Cylon presence in the nebula.

The single-eyed, golden-colored Command Centurion Medut of the Cylon Empire studied the tactical computer display for perhaps a centon, activated his transceiver and voiced one word. “Attack.” And by its command, fifty Raiders supported by half the number of Hunter-Killers and four of the newer Destroyers, backed up by a Hellion Basestar, swarmed the newly detected Federation-Colonial Murasaki carrier group, they’ve been hunting for over a secton. It was an unexpected turn of events that caused the Federation to turn up almost on top of its doorstep. And how interesting that they would choose to attack just as an energy wave cascaded over the station, as though that would somehow mask their intentions.

The small Carrier group had been wrecking havoc on Cylon shipping and supply routes inside the nebula, while clearing the minefield for the full-scale assault by those same forces. Despite the losses and the psychological effect caused by the destruction of the Romulan imperial homeworlds, the Humans and others in this region of space resisted more than ever before. They would not accept the inevitable but at the same time they should not be underestimated as Imperious Leader Lucifer had repeatedly done so many times before. When it came to understanding Humanity, Lord Lucifer’s experience with Baltar made it the reigning expert.

At its core, the very description of mankind could be summed up as perfidious, treacherous, stubborn, cowardly, unstable, unreliable, inconsistent and generally inconsiderate of how things were supposed to be in the universe. And most importantly, when backed into a corner, they cheated. That description alone made them worthy of extinction. Cylons knew how to cheat and lie also, but they were mere amateurs when compared with Humanity. Another was their unpredictability, something that even in their enhanced state, the Cylons had difficulty dealing with. Time and again Imperious Leader had warned them of this most dangerous of traits.

On tactical, Medut watched as both groups closed in on one another. The nebula itself wasn’t going to make this easy it realized. Only short –ranged sensors were operable due to the tremendous energies trying to shred anything in its path and one had to almost blunder into the enemy in order to find them. Another disadvantage was that the shields didn’t work inside the nebula with its superheated gases, high-energy dust particles, heat and radiation. The fight that just began would come down to a matter of skill and logic and that strange but relevant concept called luck..

Killing Humans was a joyful thing.

Nearly fifty of the Federation two-occupant Peregrine short ranged fighters and and equal number of Colonial Vipers from the battle group clashed with Cylon fighters sent to meet them. And behind them were their makeshift carriers-the three Nebulas and their Defiant gunboat escorts. It noted also that there were three Colonial Adders directly supporting the smaller vessels with their heavy lasers and Klingon-style disruptors. Three of the enemy and five of its own ships instantly vanished as beams of energy and flashing torpedoes touched one another producing micro-star bursts.

Medut observed the fight carefully; transmitting every bit of detail because this was the first time the Federation small-fighters would be catalogued in an en-mass fight against Cylon warriors. The Peregrines were warp fighters armed with the newer pulse phaser arrays and six mini-photon or quantum torpedoes. They were the Federation’s answer to the Dominion’s smaller warships and had proven themselves well in battle. But the Federation Humans had not had enough experience in small fighter combat, so the more experienced Colonial Viper pilots, who were already wreaking havoc on the Raiders and H-Ks supported them, training them in essence to better fight their enemy. This was very instructive for the Cylon Commander and the rest of its kind as it continually transmitted data to the collective database. The data would then be collected and sent to high command since direct sub-space communication was impossible for them in the nebula proper.

The Colonial war had occurred before its activation so actual combat experience was something that it didn’t have. The historical data was there but right now it was gaining practical application in killing Human organics. It observed that the Humans fought differently than the Romulans and that excited his emotion protocols, activated when the ruination imperatives came online. In the command center, Medut stood rigid in the center of the room, allowing its transceiver to directly connect to every Cylon in his squadron. It felt the loss of existences from its centurions as well as the joy of fulfilling the imperatives. It could also provide direct tactical information to the Centurions in combat as it was doing now.

Two of its Raiders were caught in crossfire and it directed a H-K to support them against the Vipers targeting them. The Cylon H-K immediately broke off its attack and decapitated the closest Viper before a photon torpedo slammed into its engine compartment. The resultant explosion vaporized the H-K and damaged a Peregrine that passed too close to the superheated fragments spewing in every direction.

“Commander Medut,” a silver centurion announced. “The Federation battle fleet is closing in on the station.”

“Fire all defensive weapons."

The main batteries began firing its offensive weapons with highly accurate and devastating results. Anti-proton beams caught one Nebula, damaging the port nacelle causing the ship to veer of. The remaining two ships backed away, wary of facing the intense firepower the station was putting out. After only a few minutes, there was a general retreat of the Federation ships along the entire front, something that Medut was pleased, but puzzled by. The Gold had expected something more vigorous from the Human-based enemy fleet. If they fought like this, then the Cylon Empire would have an easier time than predicted. Calculations would need to be adjusted.

"Order Cylon forces engaged with the Federation to continue the attack and eliminate the remaining opposition."

"By the command."

A full compliment of Cylon Destroyers, Raiders, H-K's and a Hellion Basestar began to chase their quarry into the heart of the nebula. With the fanatical precision of the machine mentality, they proceeded to fire in the fleeing starships. The retreat hadn’t been haphazardly, but a controlled withdrawal, with each Federation ship covering and protecting one another as they sought safety within the dark swirls of the nebula. Medut would have to be patient it assumed-and was promptly knocked off its feet. Quickly, the entire visual most of the audio was lost to the dust and storms of the nebula.

"Commander Medut," the primary Silver announced directly quickly recovering its own balance. "We have detected a second, larger fleet of Federation vessels, all Excelsior-class. They are closing in on braxlar sector. Time to firing range, eighteen point three-two-seven-eight microns."

Medut's enhanced opticals froze for a moment as it observed fifty Federation Excelsior and behind them, an equal number of Klingon B'rel class cruisers swiftly closed in on the station. The coveted carrier fleet was a faint. "Recall our fleet. Fire on the new fleet as soon as they come into range."

"The fleet cannot be recalled," the Silver responded. "There is too much interference."

The Commander said nothing. Its fellow Cylons knew what to do. But it had readjusted its opinion on the Federation organics. Maybe the fight would be more problematic than it had first calculated. It would adjust its programming accordingly. “Release the reserves.”

“By the command.”



The USS Khe Sahn, part of the Fed battle group assigned to remove the threat of the Cylon space station waited patiently, until the USS Crazy Horse under the command of Captain Shonar, a Tiburon, gave the order to fire. With the order given, one hundred ninety-two type-IV photon torpedoes, each with four hundred ninety-six megaton yields, slammed into the small asteroid on which the station was constructed. The barren rock withered and crumbled and vaporized under the powerful assault, but the station remained, its re-enforced metallic alloy plating resisting the intense energy. The station was positioned in one of the very few areas where shields were able to function in a limited capacity whereas everyone one else had none. That it would survive the second wave of torpedoes coming at it, would be a debatable point and the Cylons were aware of this as every ship and heavy weapon was focused on resisting this latest attack. The Hellion, backed up by a dozen Obliterators and scores of Raiders and Hunter-Killers, closed in firing everything they had at the nearest Excelsiors. They returned fire and the Cylons quickly discovered that the enemy ships were larger in number that was first observed. As the Cylons hit the Excelsiors, the second wave of starships consisting of the smaller, Defiants, Novas, Intrepids and five of the newest Prometheus-class multivector combat warships flanked them, catching the Cylons in an unexpected and merciless crossfire.

Captain Pat Duvalier of the Khe Sahn held her breath, awed by the sight of the concerted attack against the station proper. Slowly members of her fleet penetrated the wall of death thrown up against them, knocking out weapons batteries. Photon torpedoes ripped large gashes into the reinforced superstructure and in return, starships venturing too close were raked with anti-proton beams. Damaged, several Cylon warships moved in close to protect the vulnerable area. The smaller Starfleet ships attacked them with a vengeance.

"That’s the signal!" Captain Shonar roared over the comms. "We've opened a hole. Execute!"

This is what they were waiting for. They needed entry into the station and transporters were useless they created an opening. That was now a reality and two Excelsiors and the Klingon ship K'tonglin moved in quickly, dodging enemy ships and fire to get close enough for transport.

Pat punched her internal comms to cargo bay two. "Commander Thompson, we're beginning transport in one minute." The ship quaked, a direct hit. "We won't be able to stay here long. We'll be back."

"I know, Ma'am. We'll be waiting."

"I wish I were going with you."

"You're the Captain. Someone has to stay."

"I'll remember you said that, Commander," she whispered. "Thirty seconds. Captain Rigel, good luck."

"I'll take it all."

The three ships fired a savage barrage of photons into the gaping hole, rocking the entire sixteen-meter thick re-enforced outer wall. Transport completed, they retreated, covering a beleaguered Klingon vessel mixing it up with two Cylon destroyers intent on destroying it.

[Albert Green]

Chapter IV


Colonial Captain Rigel, his Colonials, along with three hundred others of the Klingon and Federation contingents transported directly into the station. This is what they had trained for, for so long. No more running from the Cylons. No more defensive tactics trying to keep civilians, their families and their worlds alive and failing. Now they about to strike back-provided that they survived the next five minutes. He and the other members of his team were dressed in Colonial brown, with the added feature of being covered head to toe with the latest radiation-proofed, energy resistant flex armor, with built-in, self-contained life support. To his right were the Klingon corps dressed in their traditional colors but with the same armor as the Colonials and to his left were the Feds dressed in red and black armor.

Gone were the standard laser pistols, replaced by isomagnetic disintegrators and phaser rifles. And half the members in each group were armed with the Miller-T'voku assault combat recoilless rifle or ACRR-MT twelve. At forty rounds per second, with variable loads ranging from twenty-two to fifty-five caliper-users choice-the ACRR-MT twelve was designed to fire neutronium coated, tritanium based armor piercing slugs, magnetically accelerated to eighty percent light speed within three meters post ejection. It had a liquid boron-cooled reflex compartment and a built-in high-speed ammo replication chamber with power enough to generate two thousand rounds of ammunition. With auto-tracking with multiple target acquisition up to ten individual targets, heat signature recognition, and subspace sensor location, it was the latest in anti-Cylon offensive weaponry. The Romulans and Starfleet had learned the hard way that Cylon centurion refractive armor was tough enough to repel full phaser fire for up to three seconds. In combat against artificial life forms equal to Commander Data in speed and strength, or far stronger and with their regenerative capacity, that was tantamount to suicide. Another approach was needed to affect a quick and effective kill and R&D came up with an older methodology. Magnetic rail technology, sufficient enough at short range to rip through any unshielded armor seemed a viable alternative and an older world war three design was updated. In theory it should work, according to the designers. Also, many of the team members were equipped with the newest pulse-firing isomagnetic disintegrators, the weapons destined to replace aging phaser technology.

The corridors, dark gray in color, were devoid of any warmth or light, which evidently the Cylons had no need for. The strike group’s auto-systems automatically adjusted their optical lens just as the first of the silver centurions turned the curve. Phaser and disruptor beams shredded the first group of robots into their component parts.

“Spread out!” Rigel yelled. “These Cylons are faster than we are! Don’t be cheap on the ammo!”

The teams began to separate quickly, the Klingons going for the power generators and the Federation team concentrating on the main command center. The Colonials moved towards the weapons bays, still spraying death at the Assault forces fighting the Cylon heavy warships.

One good thing Thompson mused. These things aren’t quiet. “Here they come.” He didn’t have to say that since everyone could hear them, even through their protective helmets. They were loud and incredible fast, judging by the sounds.

The first Cylon appeared, carrying a handheld weapon so large, two Humans would have had trouble lifting it. It carried it like a pistol and had started firing at the strike team who somehow had managed to move out of the way almost as fast. Three of the slower members disappeared as the beams touched them. The robot was about to begin a sweep just as disintegrator beams from three different quarters sliced the Cylon apart. It hit the ground hard, breaking apart even as the team continued firing. Several more robots attacked but were quickly dispatched.

They had been here less than five minutes and three of his team had already been lost.

“Randford, take point,” Thompson ordered as they all began running down and separating. They could hear the Colonials and Klingon firing wildly in the distance as Cylon attack packs converged on them. “Collins, establish a perimeter.”

“Sir,” the dark-haired woman responded. Immediately, she and her point team moved up, sweeping the area.

For the moment it was quiet, as the other two teams provided a much needed distraction. In the distance, several explosions rocked the compound. The other teams were already using the heavy explosives.

Thompson looked at his tricorder. “Red, Blue and Green teams spread out and hit your assigned areas. Brown Team, come with me. That way,” he whispered, pointing straight ahead.

Other than the sounds of explosion, weapons fire and fast-moving padded feet, it was eerily quiet. No one was saying anything. Thompson was amazed at how calm he felt. Practice was one thing, but actually being here was quite another. Now, he was in charge not of a starship, but of a team of men and women looking directly to him for leadership. . He had never been Special Ops but right now, he imagined that this is how they felt when on mission.

There was a burst of static, then Randford was screaming in his ear. “They’re coming. Nearly two dozen and the Golds also….Scanners not tracking them…being jammed. I-”

Without realizing, he was running in the direction of point, towards the sound of sustained phaser and recoilless fire on full auto. Three survivors of the point team turned the corridor and hit the ground. The first Cylon they ran into had been almost completely eviscerated, but the robotic being had begun regenerating, even as the surviving members of the point team began retreating the way they came.

Team members carrying ACRR-MT-12’s, opened fire at the horde turning the corner. In such close quarters, it was about to become a killing field.




Captain Duvalier stared grim-faced as an Excelsior lost a Nacelle to a trio of Cylon destroyers that had cornered and isolated the ship before it make it back to its battle group. However before they could finish it, a Prometheus-class starship came to its aid and decimated all three ships before the realized the threat. Quickly, the three independent sections of the starship moved on to other targets while another Excelsior came to the beleaguered ship’s aid.

Even with the numbers of ships damaged or destroyed, the Federation-Klingons battlegroup had the Cylons out-gunned, and on the defensive. With shields almost useless, there was a lot more battle damage than projections had calculated. And with Cylons, there was no question as they fought to their complete destruction. The only good thing was that their ships didn’t have the regenerative capability of their crewmembers. But even so, they were merciless to anything they considered prey and there seem to be some indication that the ships themselves were attempting to continue the fight even after they were almost rendered completely helpless. That also seemed to confirm the rumors that the larger warships had Artificial Intelligence built-in to the main computer systems. If true, then that was another nasty surprise waiting for them in the immediate future she realized

“Captain,” the Lieutenant Selvin said, breaking her out of her contemplations. “Sensors show that the Cylons are on the run.”

“Inform the fleet,” she said instantly. “If they break out, we’ll be up to our noses in robots in less than three hours. Inform Captain Shonar-“

“He’s aware of the situation and have ordered all ships, minus the Huntington and Okada and two Klingon cruisers, to hunt them down with extreme prejudice before they can contact re-enforcements. The Crazy Horse has also relayed the change of plans to the groundpounders.”

She hated to abandon her people on the base, but there was no choice. The nebula blocked sensor and subspace signals up to a point. However if the Cylons reached a safe point then they would call every warship within two light-years down on them and this mission would have been for nothing. And the main attack force might fail.

“Track down the closest enemy ship and prepare to remove it form my sight,” she ordered. “This one’s for you Roberta she thought. And good luck Thompson. I’ll keep my promise and I will be back.




“Shoot, Shoot! That’s it! Destroy them all!” Colonial Captain Rigel roared as he and the Colonial contingent attacked the fortified area where the massive weapons bunkers were still firing at the battlegroup. The Cylons defending were some that he’d only seen in recording. They were two and a half meters tall with dual eyes. They were unbelievably fast and smart, nothing like the good old days. In those times, Cylons walked unwavering in straight lines and you could cut up entire squads. But these remained under protective cover, methodically laying down sufficient firepower to keep everybody’s head down. There were only eight of them, but that was enough. Evidently the Cylons, confident of their outer defenses, had not expected a full-fledged internal assault and therefore there weren’t those many combat troops stationed within the fortress. The Colonials had broken thru the internal force fields, but the entire area protecting the sealed doors were constructed of the same material as the Cylons themselves.

Continuous fire from their neutron disruptors were increasing the radiation levels significantly; and soon the protective properties of the environmental suits would fail. That was an automatic death sentence, one that Rigel had no intentions of allowing to come to pass. These were his ancient enemies. The same ones who, butchered billions of his people, wiped out his way of life, killed his worlds, chased the remainder of his people across the galaxy for nearly twenty-three yahrens, and now threatened his new home and neighbors. No more running. That was about to end now.

“Use the disintegrators,” he roared once more. “Full power!”

The team complied and quickly the doors, protective covering and everything in front of them started coming apart under isomagnetic disintegrator fire. Then two photon and two solonite grenades were launched directly at the protected Cylon resistance. The concussive force knocked every back, the only thing remaining a piece of the door. There was a very large, deep hole in front of it.

His team ran thru the wreckage and reached the door. Two-dozen grenades were launched into the bunker. Multiple explosions shook the entire complex and even before the explosions had died down, three of the Colonials burst into the room firing their heavy weapons into the smoke. The second warrior grunted slightly as an anti-photon beam hit him in the chest. He disappeared without a trace. The rest of the time went thru and began firing. Cylons broke apart or simply vaporized under the assault, while in turn, men and women screamed and died.

Five minutes and thirty-one deaths later, the weapons bunker was secured.
“Set the charges!”


Commander Thompson had just enough time to duck as a bright yellowish beam eviscerated the area of wall that his head was just in front of. Once more he thanked the defensive members who carried portable shield generators instead of offensive weapons. Their directed actions had prevented the deaths of the majority of the people under his command inside this crowded hallway. Their defensive fields stopped the enemies high-powered and highly radioactive energy weapon long enough to keep from killing his entire group with the first few second so this conflict. But they had a new problem. The Cylons were among them. Two and a half meter metal monsters had gone after the defensive personnel, crushing anything in the paths, and the Feds defended themselves for all that they were worth. One soldier fired his weapon point blank into the chest wall of a combat gold fighter. The Cylon stood there taking the full brunt of the blast just so that it could smash the soldier caring the directed shield emitter. The arms hit the soldier, but there wasn’t much force as the rest of the robot had vaporized. Still, the weight of the arms knocked the man out of action. Next to him was another soldier performing a tight sweep of his ACRR-MT-12 on full auto at three incoming silver robots, one of which had just picked a man by his helmet, crushing his head, before throwing him some twenty meters down the hallway into a wall. At that range the kinetic impacts of the projectiles seemed like hundreds of grenades going off at the same time. Several of his own crewmembers were injured and killed by collateral damage resulting from the weapons’ fire.

A few seconds later, all twenty-two of the Cylons lay on the ground, in various stages of destruction. But the soldiers weren’t talking any chances and phaser and disintegrator fire turned the remains into vapor.

Thompson looked back in shock. There were bodies everywhere. For a second, the sight paralyzed him and he knew that this sight would haunt his dreams fro the rest of his life. But this wasn’t the time for it and he pushed those thoughts away. In front of them, stood the main control section. And to their left stood two Cylons barring the way, one carrying a very large pulse weapon. Instantly he and his squadron were on alert.
The first one was familiar to them all. It was golden with a single cyclopean eye pulsing back and forth serenely as calm as it pleased. However, the other one was less familiar. It was golden like the others that had attacked them, but the head was pointed. That one turned towards a very wary Thompson and spoke.

“You are the leader?”

“Yes,” he answered. His weapon was pointed at the thing in front of him. If it so much as twitched, he intended to blow it out of existence. And he was more than happy to see that by the way his squad held their weapons, they had similar thoughts. “Put down your weapons.”

“We are weapons,” the Golden Lord answered in a very un-robotic, smug tone. “You and your related species have been slated for destruction, superior numbers notwithstanding.”

“You will not be around see that happen.”

“I admit that we made a mistake here,” Lord Medut acknowledged. “It is one that will never happen again. Our next base will be fully designed with organic infiltrators in mind.”

“There won't be a next time for you. Surrender, or we will destroy you.”

The second Cylon began to point his weapon-which was considered by everyone as a ‘twitch’-and was promptly hit by a dozen beams and MT-12 rounds. It was phased and ripped from existence before its remains hit could the ground.

The Cylon Lord managed to fire its built-in weapons into the main control section before it to was destroyed. Damage was significant but it failed to destroy the computer controls that showed the positions of all of the mines situated in the Katasi nebula. And twenty minutes later, they had all the information they required. They could now track and destroy the mines in safety.

“That was too easy,” Randford muttered. Her Ops training was screaming red flags at this victory.

“Never look a gift horse in the mouth,” someone else countered.

For his part, Thompson said nothing. The charges were set, the support ships were returning and they were still alive. The other teams had suffered causalities but had also achieved their objects. But he was thinking along the same lines and his shipmates. It had been a little too easy. Now the next part of the mission could begin.

“Call for pick,” he ordered. “Let’s leave this soulless place.”



The Katasi Solar System

The Colonial Battlestars Pegasus, and the rest of team Wildstar jumped into normal space moments before the first of the Cylon patrol ships began their attack runs. Hundreds of single manned Colonial Viper II’s poured out of the massive ship, followed closely by an equal number of two-men Federation Peregrines carried by converted Nebulas. Fifty K’vort Klingon Bird-of-preys and New Orleans class starships, plus another fifty Federation Sabers backed them up. Their objective was the subspace accelerator weapon orbiting what remained of the fourth planet in the Katasi star system. The Pegasus under the control of Commander Sheba, and its escort group of twenty upgraded Adders, moved in the direction of the orbiting defense station that had begun firing at the ships.

The Cylons responded quickly and within minutes large numbers of smaller Cylon fighters of every description engaged the combined fleet. The Wildfire fleet responded with a solid wall of photon and quantum torpedoes that wiped out nearly a thousand ships. But that allowed a new wave to get into attack range. Cylon raiders, Hunter-Killers and Destroyers, now fought with Federation Peregrines, Defiant-class, upgraded Mirandas and New Orleans, Colonial Vipers, Cobras and Klingon Bird-of-preys. Now skill and luck would make the difference between success and failure. There was no quarter asked for or given and men and women died, and Cylons ceased to exist at levels previously unimagined. But there was no choice, if the Alpha quadrant lost this battle, there would be nothing to stand in the Cylons way, from turning into a carnal house. Yes, There were other powers in the region, but very likely would not come together fast enough to resist the Cylons.

The Pegasus and her escort group fired on the anti-capital weapons surrounding the weapons platform and they also started pelting the planet’s surface with Solonite high-yield missiles, in an effort to destroy the planetary defense field protecting the weapon.

In a modified Adder next to her Battlestar was Commander Cain, giving orders to Wildfire command. This was the time when her father was truly alive.

The Cylons had prepared for this attack for months, and were ready. Their production facilities had been strained to their maximums to produce enough materiel to repel this invasion. But the main defensive force was stopped short. Another signature at appeared on their sensors. It was the main enemy Battle group, comprised of Federation, Klingon and even a few Romulan warships numbering close to seven hundred ships of all classifications, the largest fleet ever assembled by one force in the Alpha quadrant, including the Dominion war. This, they expected, but what surprised the Cylons was the presence of several Gorn warships. They were not engaging, but simply observing.

The first wave of forty Hellions backed up by an equal number of Extremes and their support ships, began gathering for an attack against the main group.



Admiral Janeway onboard the USS Voyager, and Admiral Avonne onboard the USS Melbourne, commanded by Captain William Riker, ordered the first group to engage the forces coming towards them.

“Admiral Avonne,” She ordered. “Start your attack. Chancellor Martok, let us begin.”

The leader of the Klingons merely grunted in satisfaction. Then half of his fleet powered up and went after the second set of Cylon warships congregating near their flank.

Admiral Avonne and his battle fleet slammed into the Cylon defensive ships rushing to meet them. Smaller Federation ships weaved and dodged in between the larger Cylon Basestars whose defensive shields strained and glowed, fighting against the energies directed at them. The Cylons returned fire, their anti-proton beams destroying starships shields and punching holes through the ships themselves. Because of the speed of those smaller ships, the Cylons couldn’t train their heavy weapons on them, but their idea of smaller weapons were sufficient to bring down a starship.

In the distance, Janeway observed the Klingon and Romulan strike force hitting the rearguard Cylon fleet. The surrounding area where the two fleets met glowed with a ferocity that threatened to match the nearby nebula.
Onboard Voyager, Lieutenant Wright received urgent communiqué from Commander Cain. The man was livid.

“Why haven’t you begun the attack!” he nearly yelled. “You haven’t started your attack on the factory. We’re losing our window of opportunity! This is not the time to stand idly by and wait. Strike now, while you can.”

“Not yet,” she answered and had him cut off. The factory defenses were powerful enough to repel any attack.

“Admiral, Commander Tuvok said. “We have missiles locked onto our locations.

“Give the order for evasives, defensive fire only. Do not attack the complex, until I give the order.”




Imperious Leader Lucifer stood motionless, along with the Imperium supreme watching the battle unfold. Their subs-space transceivers took in all reports. Lucifer was satisfied with the progress so far. But there was one weakness among his larger ships that they hadn’t accounted for. There were so many ships in the area that the subspace warp fields were tearing up subspace in the immediate area. In a few yahrens, faster than light travel would be impossible using warp drive. But that was in the future. Its processors flashed quicker as two of his Extremes made an error, hitting the target and each other, destroying the target but damaging themselves in the process. Both were obliterated moments later by quantum torpedoes penetrated deep into unshielded, damaged areas.

Even with the addition of the Romulan contingent, the forces arrayed against them were larger than anticipated, but not insurmountable. The factory and the anti-capital defenses would successfully repel any attack. If this attack succeeded somehow succeeded and everything was destroyed, it would mean nothing. This entire complex was nothing more than a minor piece in a much larger game.

The Imperium Supreme was however less patient. “Power up the array now. We will destroy the secondary target.” Once fired, in ninety centars, the planet called Andoria by the Federation would ceases to exist.

“By the command,” Lucifer intoned. It gave the order and the system began its activation sequence, even as Wildfire fought its way through countless enemy defenders.

Suddenly, the entire IL leadership froze for an instant. As one, they felt and acknowledged the transwarp signature forming in front of their command station. They were not pleased with this interference by their so-called allies and future enemies.

Three vessels emerged from the opening. Two Borg spheres and one Combat cube appeared decelerating instantly, taking station-keeping in front of Cylon Command and Control. The transmission from one of two spheres overrode all subspace signals. “WE ARE THE BORG. THE MISSION MUST NOT BE JEPORDIZED. WE WILL ASSIST.”

Imperious Leader’s response was immediate. “The assistance of the Borg is appreciated, but not required at this time,” it said dispassionately.

Their presence had nothing to do with helping as much as it was to keep an eye on things. With their presence here, the enemy may not even pursue their plans, opting instead to pull back and develop a more defensive stance. However the Cylons wanted them to attack, to waste lives and resources in a futile battle. The Federation needed to be bled before the final strikes could occur.

“THE MISSION MUST PROCEED. YOUR CONCERNS ARE IRREVELENT. WE WILL ASSIST.” Then the Borg began to transmit directly to Starfleet. “WE ARE THE BORG. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. YOU WILL LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND SURRENDER. YOUR LIFE AS YOU HAVE KNOWN IT WILL CEASE. YOU WILL SERVICE US. ADMIRAL JANEWAY, YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELF TO THE BORG. SEVEN OF NINE, RETURN HOME. LOCUTUS, YOU WILL SURRENDER YOURSELF AND THE ENTERPRISE TO THE BORG.”

Lucifer, and the Imperium Supreme suppressed urges to direct all of their considerable firepower at those arrogant abominations floating there, issuing orders. But there was a war to fight, and for now the Borg would be tolerated, until the time was right to eliminate those cybernetic aberrations.

But there was another problem quickly developing. The larger Basestars couldn’t be use to their maximum effectiveness as the hundreds of smaller ships both, enemy and friendly, maneuvered about in intricate dances trying to keep from being destroyed. They were ordered to retreat but each time the accursed Federation moved with the battle to keep relative position within the perimeter. The result was that several Basestars had been needlessly damaged or destroyed, unable to use their heavier firepower to full effect. Reluctantly the Cylon group mind conceded that the presence of the Borg may negate this unexpected disadvantage.

"The weapon is reorienting itself." The revelation chilled Cain's heart. The ring-shaped transmitter, composed of duotronium-neutronium alloys, two point three seven kilometers in diameter, perfectly circular in shape, began its characteristic glow, signaling its intent. The internal rings had begun to rotate violently. Normally anchored to the planet by artificial gravity generators, it was now independent, auto correcting its every movement. The artifact began glowing as it charged itself.

They had waited too long, just as he had repeatedly told them. Even now, as he berated himself for not pushing harder the computer was announcing its analysis of the intended target.

Andoria.

Admiral Hurshu’s people.

[Albert Green]

CHAPTER V

The blue aliens with the antennae and the short tempers, he remembered. The original target was most likely in the Vulcan system but there wasn’t enough time to properly align the weapon before the attack. Now they were going to hit what they could. It really didn’t matter to them, because Andoria Prime was still a Federation planet, with organics that aligned themselves with Humans. The death toll could theoretically be the same as Romulus.

He was not about to let that happen to another world. The explosion of a Cylon destroyer momentarily distracted him. Eyes recovering much quicker than they used to, he focused once more on the close end fighting, pushing the larger picture back for the moment. He watched with envy as his daughter used the Pegasus's heavy disruptors to create large craters on the planet's surface as it tried to overwhelm the weakened force shields protecting the energy generators. He felt a moment's sorrow as he remembered what the Cylons had done to the inhabitants of Katasi. They were extinct now, victims of Cylon aggression and indifference. It was another reason to hate them.

The enemy warships were massing now, pushing forward trying to ram their way thru to the Pegasus battle group, still pounding what was left of the planet into rubble. Team Wildfire was split into three sections now. The first was covering the Pegasus, keeping the ever-increasing numbers of Cylon ships off her back while she completed her work. She was now releasing salvos of heavy missiles powerful enough to destroy continents on top of the generator's shields. A few moments later the shield failed, the energy generators blew, and the planet's core began to spew forth up to a distance of thirty kilometers high. He couldn’t help it and allowed a smile to creep on his face. His ship was in her full glory.

A second later, he grimaced as scanners confirmed that the weapon had begin its cycling sequence.

“Sir!”

“I see it.”

A group of Destroyers seemingly appeared from nowhere and butchered a small group of Klingon and Peregrine vessels caught in the ensuing crossfire. A moment later, Colonial fighters were all over the Cylons, cutting the attacking force into small pieces. To his port side several Adders had engaged the first of three Hellions that had gotten close enough to begin firing their heavy weapons at the Pegasus. Her shield glowed into the visible range but held. Then she returned fire and the first Hellion exploded. That’s the way to do it his mind screamed. One down, a lot more to go.

Wildfire was taking a beating, but they were holding their own especially with the main force engaging the Federation fleet. Then his heart went cold when he heard the words, “WE ARE THE BORG,” piped thru communications. Well that was the fleet’s problem. His job was to destroy the accelerator weapon. All he needed was a little time; something he didn’t have.

“Squads Gamoray and Sagittara,” Cain yelled into the comms. “Keep incoming busy. The rest, follow me. We have to destroy the weapon and the storage batteries before it fires.”

Throughout his life, they had called him foolishly reckless and unnecessarily aggressive. But they were wrong. He was aggressive, but focused and he was reckless only as a last resort. He was a Battlestar Commander, one of the best there ever was. He was relentless and aggressive against an enemy that intended to wipe out Humanity. He wanted his people, his Colonials remnants, the Federation, and the Klingons to survive to handle their own problems, not to be dictated to by walking circuits.

His Adder was moving, towards the fortified construct before the order was even acknowledged. He could feel every vessel, every male and female rushing to obey his order. The Pegasus was right on top of his as it should be. Behind him, the rest of the ships closed ranks and surged forward firing at the secondary shield generators protecting their target. In the distance, the enemy was lining up, waiting for them.


“…WILL SURRENDER YOURSELF AND THE ENTERPRISE TO THE BORG.”

On visuals, Admiral Janeway saw Admiral Avonne actually blanch. Behind him was Captain Riker looking just as grim but there was also determination in his eyes. Here was a man who had never twitch in his conflicts against the Dominion, the Cardassians, or the Klingons, but the presence of the Borg had cracked that stonewall. And she understood why. The Borg were the bogey man-and rightly so-of every male, female, (etc) in the four galactic quadrants.

Their presence changed everything.

“We have to evaluate our strategy,” the man was saying. “If they’ve made an alliance with the Cylon Empire, then we need to break off. We can't handle them both at the same time!”

“No,” she answered. “Continue with the plan.” Voyager rocked from an anti-capital weapons hit on her ablative armor. Kathryn was more than happy of the installation of seatbelts on the captain’s chair. “Lock on to that Extreme! Quantum torpedoes full spread! Fire!” she screamed over the din. Next to her ship, the Enterprise was parroting her actions. Both ships crisscrossed one another, firing everything they had at the Cylon. Its shields collapsed and several other Federation fighters finished the job before it could receive support.

The action hadn’t been lost on the Admiral. It was as Q had said. The Voyager and Enterprise were being specifically targeted to the exclusion of everything else. “We have a big giant bulls-eye painted on us by the Cylons,” she had told Picard in one of their earlier conversations. “It makes life dangerous, but it gives us an advantage also.” In the fighting, this had been proven time and time again. The Cylons lost their objectivity and became prey for other Fed vessels to rip into them. Iblis’ imperative-to kill Picard, Adama and Janeway-was their weakness that they exploited for all it was worth.

“Shields down by twenty percent,” Tuvok announced.

“Continue firing,” Janeway ordered. “Mister Paris you’re doing just fine. Continue your evasives.”

The Cylons adapted quickly to any recognized evasive patterns, so randomness was the order of the day. Of course, randomness could get you killed just as easily with this concentration vessels flying this close to one another.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

As both starships completed their arc, seventy-five Fed and Klingon heavy vessels went head to head with the main forces of the defensive Cylon armada. Right behind them were another two hundred vessels, including twenty-five Romulan battleships, screaming for vengeance against those who slaughtered their worlds.

Admiral HurSru’ Command ship disappeared in a titanic flash in the first few seconds of the battle. So did several large Basestars, victims of their own inability to use their heavy weapons or simple to get out of the way without destroying their own comrades. However the Cylons, coordination was impeccable as many people had the misfortune of finding out when dueling with the smaller fighters.

Onboard the USS Voyager, Anika Chakotay was seriously perplexed by the Borg. They weren’t doing anything. A combat cube had more firepower than any Cylon warship. Yet, they weren’t doing anything. Had they truly allied themselves to the Cylons? And if they did, for what purpose?

“Admiral Janeway. I suggest caution.” It was true understatement, if ever there was one.

“Of course,” she answered. “Open a channel to the Borg.”

“Opened.”

She said one word. “Now.”

Both Spheres and the combat cubes immediately targeted all defensive weapons on the factory complex and the Cylon Star Command center and opened fire on a shocked Imperium. Explosions blazed in every section of both constructs as ammunition and energy weapons detonated in unholy fury.

Both sides stopped their fighting for an instant in stunned surprise as the Borg ships, having done their duty begin to move away before the robots could retaliate.

“Admiral, we’re receiving a hail from the Borg sphere.”

“Open.”

On the viewscreen was a Borg of Klingon origin smiling at her.

“General, my thanks.”

He merely nodded. “It was an honor,” he responded. To all, victory!”

Annika stood there, as shocked as the rest. Then slowly, her smile matched Janeway’s. The three vessels were those freed from the influence of the Borg queen and the Collective during her and Kathryn’s time in Unimatrix zero.

“You planned this!”

The word, “yes,” came out in a long slow draw. “We needed an edge to break thru to our objective; something that no one would expect.”

“Your plan was-inventive,” Annika said slowly. “I am sure that the Cylons were not expecting such a tactic.”

“Now it’s time to exploit it. Mister Paris, reform with the fleet. Lets’ finish this!”

Yes, Ma’am!”



Inside Cylon Command Central, two invisible entities watched as the Borg ships slipped away via transwarp. The expression of contempt for the Borg exhibited by the Cylon Lords was matched only by the psychic screaming of Count Iblis. He understood the depths of the deception perpetrated by Janeway. And he hated her all the more because of it. The fact that he was deceived mattered very little. The fact that Q was beside him, laughing in his face infuriated him in a manner few beings had ever dared to do. The power swelled inside him threatening to burst its fury upon Q, who stood contently waiting to see what the Dark Lord would do.

“Harm me and a war starts,” Q mocked. “Remember that?” Then Q created a chair and sat down, completely spent. “I can feel your power Iblis, testing to see what you can do and get away with. By the rules that your own self-righteous people have agreed to, you can’t begin to do anything.” Slyly: ”turnabout is fair play.”

Iblis’ vestige calmed down immediately. All around him, his children were frantically repairing the damage done by the ex-Borg ships with machine efficiency. Replication systems were online and the worker units cleared debris and proceeded to install newly synthesized parts.

“Q, your pets have made quite a showing. They’ve shown more initiative that I gave them credit for. I should have remembered Adama.”

“They are stronger than you think. I could have told you that.” Q slapped himself. “Oh, wait! I did tell you that!”

“This means nothing, simpleton,” Iblis retorted. “Look that them,” he growled, pointing towards the fighting. Several Basestars had just released their reserve fighters that swarmed a squadron of Federation-Klingon vessels cut off from the main fleet. “Do you actually believe that the Federation and friends can defeat my children?”

Q shrugged. “I will admit that the Federation isn’t the most competent group I’ve come across, but I think they’ll do well enough against you’re children,” a sarcastic Q retorted. “Children? Really, you should try the old fashion way.”

Ignoring the last remark completely, Iblis’ entire vestige darkened and crackled. “We shall see.”

The creature disappeared with Q hard on his trail.




The Battlestar Pegasus followed closely by its remaining Adder and fighter support smashed their way thru two Extremes attempting suicide runs. The Battlestars’ disruptors and high intensity lasers followed by high yield torpedoes of various types incinerated anything that came within the field of fire. The lasers were hotter now by almost eighty percent, due to judicious use of the Aeriana crystal. Still extremely volatile, it was used only in short regulated pulses. Even then, its effects were deadly, comparable to Borg cutting lasers at full power when slicing thru unshielded vessels.

Commander Cain’s Adder was right next to the Pegasus trying his best to burn thru the rapidly weakening shields protecting the sub-space projector. A momentary hole opened up within the shield and every allied ship in the area fired everything they had.

-A second too late.

The energizer fired for a second, then exploded like a small nova, as nearly three thousand megatons of allied weaponry collided with enough stored subspace energy to flash fry a planet. The weapon, battery storage, and the shield generator units vaporized, taking the remains of Katasi four with it. Every ship in the area was sensor blind after the explosion, leaving them completely helpless. And the enemy warships, aware of that fact bore down on the squadron.


USS Voyager:

Admiral Kathryn Janeway held on as another Cylon destroyer tried to live up to its name. With the concerted efforts of Tom Paris, the ship weaved and dodged enemy fire as gracefully as a cat, all the while bearing its own energy powered fangs. The Voyager’s weapons and armaments, given to her by an alternate future Admiral Janeway made her nearly impervious to present day weapons’ fire. But even this future’s amalgam couldn’t long withstand the continuous pounding that the Cylons were putting out. Her ship was a target and everyone knew it. The Enterprise was one as well courtesy of the entity called Count Iblis. And because of this several of the enemy had aided in their own destruction by ignoring other allied ships. Three Basestars had succumbed to the fire, trying to either destroy Voyager or the Enterprise regardless of danger to their ships. The Cylons had shown no hint of a change in strategy. For the two ships, it made life interesting.

Without the anti-capital weapons fire and shielding, the massive factory complex suffered grievous damage. The Hellion shipyards were now a battered wreck, but the Extreme’s shipyard remained unscathed as their shield generators held up against uncoordinated allied assaults. And the Cylons weren’t making it easy to get to the partially built ships either. There were several suicide strikes by Cylon raiders and a few Hunker-Killers when the opportunity arose. But more and more high energy torpedoes were getting thru.

-But at a horrible price.

Nearly a third of the allied ships were damaged or destroyed and those that were damaged needed escorts to evacuate the war-ravaged area. Cylons took no prisoners and life ships with their crews from evacuated ships were destroyed outright unless they were quickly recovered or escorted away from danger.

The Colonials were doing as well and better with their upgraded weaponry, than their less experienced Federation and Klingon counterparts. They, with their loosely coordinate attacks were far more effective in killing Raiders and H-Ks. Experienced veterans and well-trained newbies constantly proved their prowess when in contact against their ancient enemies. Sensors went momentarily blind as the signaled the death of the subspace weapon, but not before it fired for a full second.

“They did it!” Admiral Avonne yelled to her from the bridge of the Melbourne. “But Wildfire has lost its sensors. They’re all blind!”

Janeway and the others had noticed it as well. Admiral Avonne’s fleet was in too deep, fighting against hordes of Cylon fighters and blowing large holes in the factory complex to disengage and help. This left Janeway’s combat group as the only salvation for Wildfire until their sensors were back on line.

“Admiral,” the Commander Tuvok said in his usual calm, which belied his true concern. “Two Extremes and their full compliment will be in range in one minute, twenty seconds.”

“How long before the sensors clear?”

“Approximately two minutes,” came the answer.

“Contact the Enterprise,” she ordered. Have her disengage and we two will draw them off until Wildfire’s scanner’s clear.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” lieutenant Kim responded. Janeway could hear the uncertainty in his voice. But there was strength there as well. How the young man had grown. Since she had first met him. He understood her logic. Both ships would be irresistible to the Extremes and their support just as they had been throughout the campaign.

“Tom, set a course for the Extremes and head straight for them,” she ordered. “Mr. Tuvok, when in range, fire at will.”

Voyager and Enterprise vectored away from the fighting and headed straight for the Extremes.

“Inform Admiral Avonne that…”

The entire bridge crew , except for Janeway were knocked off their feet and for an instant, their world went black. The bridge lights returned to normal and the crew found that both ships were frozen in place.

[Albert Green]

CHAPTER VI

The crew of Voyager felt it before they saw it. A powerful and dark presence stood on the bridge. It almost appeared humanoid but at the same time, the could see what they could only describe as a winged hunter merged with the humanoid image in front of them. It was as if it couldn’t decide which shape could become the dominant vestige. Behind him was Q decked out in an Grand Admiral’s uniform. Instinctively, Janeway ordered her crew not to interfere in any way.

The entity smiled and Janeway’s’ blood ran cold. “You’re Iblis,” she said in no uncertain terms. She’d never seen him before, but the air of menace described by Adama and Q was unmistakable. “What’s the meaning of this? Why are you on my ship?” It seemed the right thing to say since higher-powered entities had obsessive desires to gloat.

The creature laughed.

“Careful, Kate,” Q warned. “He can't do anything to you unless you allow him to. I’m only here to make sure he doesn’t break the rules,” he added, letting the threat hang in the air like the sword of Damocles.

“Rules cannot hold me, Q. I do what I want,” he answered, glaring at Q. “I am here to finally meet the famous Kathryn Janeway, one of Q’s beloved pets. I must say, for a human you’ve done quietly nicely for yourself. You made it back home, past the Kazon, the Vedians, and the Borg, not to mention Species 8472. I had so much hope for them,” he murmured. “You must be proud of yourself. Your feats are worthy of Adama’s trek to return to safety. But at what price?” he asked her softly. “You should have stayed in the Delta quadrant. You would have lived a little longer.”

“What do you want, Iblis?” she repeated.

Iblis never moved or stopped smiling, but the afterimage’s wings spread wide in distain and threat “Iblis?” he repeated innocently. “That is my name. But then so is Bushmaster, Diablolese, Mephistoles, the god of Lies, and Enovum, lord of Pain. There are so many names that I find it hard to keep track with all of them.”

Janeway could actually hear the pride in his voice as he uttered those names made utterly obscene by his very voice.

“But for my purpose here, Iblis will do just fine.” The wings closed in upon themselves and the darkness that seemed to encompass the room which seemed to shrink within itself. “I am disturbed, Admiral Kathryn Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager. This setback,” he said indicating the frozen war around them, “is nothing. Q has snared us in this microsecond of what you laughingly call time, for which I am grateful. It allows us to have this wonderful conversation undisturbed by the aggravations of life pounding away at you as it were.” He looked at her and his image darkened , became less distinct.

“This conflict is nothing,” he continued. It will change nothing. Your fleet is battered and will take time to recover if you win. My children will survive and slay everything that lives in your precious Federation. You will realize that you have gained nothing here but false hope. I can offer nothing for the holocaust to come. But,” he added softly. “I can offer you the lives of Commander Sheba, and her father, all of the Wildfire group, if you will bow down and become my servant-of your own free will, of course.

The request stunned Janeway. Had she understood him correctly? Was he offering the lives of over ten thousand individuals for her servitude? “Why would you do this?”

“Because they,” he said pointing to Q and his son a little distance away, ‘Care for you. This fool,” snarled Iblis as he looked directly an increasingly hostile Q, “has sacrificed everything for humans,” he spat. “You are nothing! Nothing, but lowly bacteria with delusions of grandeur. You’ve moved too far; too fast before your time. The Q and the others know the truth, but have refused to do anything about your extinction. You don’t deserve life, such as your species understands it. The Goa’uld should have extinguished your miserable species long ago. But again your species prevailed and the time line was altered beyond repair. That was the first warning. You damage whatever you touch and you drag other races behind you in your ruinous wake. I understood this when I first encountered Adama. You Janeway and the others are no better than he. You’re so sanctimonious, so hypocritically noble. You’ve damaged the Borg, a race far more worthy that you. And now your infantile race threatens to change the very structure of the galaxy itself. The Federation in general and Humanity in particular, will not stand. It will be extinguished like a candle in a storm. But for you, Janeway, I offer my pledge that Wildfire will survive, if you give yourself to me.”

The Admiral looked away as his obscene essence moved closer to her.

“Captain!” Tuvok began to rise.

Iblis’ hand shot out and black lightening arced towards the Vulcan. Q instantly stretched out his hand and stopped the death bolt from touching its intended victim, but it was clearly a strenuous struggle between the two entities.

An enraged Iblis ceased his attacked, beginning to smile once more, “Your master has saved you, Vulcan. Do not interfere again.” Then he turned towards his adversary. “Q…”

“He didn’t threaten you in any fashion,” Q retorted. You would have broken the rules. I simply stopped you from doing so.”

Iblis rolled his eyes.

“With a pitch like that, I should be hard pressed to refuse-but I will. Survive or fail, Mankind’s will is its own. I-we, live or die by our own choices.”

“Free choice? Destiny?” He laughed, shaking the ship in the process. “You humans really don’t have a hint of a clue, do you? Very well. Suffer and die.”

He disappeared.

Q winked at Kathryn. “You’ve danced with him once, but never make a deal with the devil in the pale moonlight.”

“What do you mean, Q?”

“Remember the time you almost died and there was this white light beckoning you into the afterlife?”

She simply nodded. She hated being reminded of that near-death experience. There was a creature within that had tried to eat her ‘spiritual essence’. That incident had made her hate white lights ever since.

“That entity is one of what are collectively called soul eaters. In one form or another, they use what you call the soul for their own purposes. Some use the life energy; some merely wish to play with it. Iblis is one of that group. The failure of that entity to secure you is what brought you to Iblis’ attention. Humanity fascinates and repels him at the same time. He loves to ‘collect souls. Be careful or he will destroy you.” He winked at her, then flashed out of sight as well.

Once more the ship was moving towards the Cylon Basestars.



Imperious Leader and the Imperium Supreme watched impassively as the two starships vectored towards the Wildfire squadron. Only one point three microns of energy was released by the weapon before it was destroyed, but that one micron of power, even dissipating by eighty percent before it reached its target, would kill twelve percent of all unprotected lifeforms in another six standard hours. It wasn’t the ideal situation but it would have to do for now. They were still digesting the implications of independent, non-collective Borg running free in the galaxy. That would have to be rectified also.

“Have the Extremes target the two Federation starships Voyager and Enterprise. Destroy them with extreme prejudice,” Imperious Leader said, actually laughing at his own joke.

“What of the Pegasus?” a Gold Centurion asked.

“Irrelevant for now. The Galactica is what is important and it is not here,” the Imperium Supreme answered. “Destroy the ships.”

“By the command.”




Captain Jean-Luc Picard didn’t hesitate, didn’t even think about it. He understood Kathryn’s plan immediately. He understood the danger also. The Enterprise was by far the larger ship and she wasn’t alone. Four Akiras, six Sabers and three Intrepids and two heavily modified Nebulas followed in hard their wake, determined to aid the defenseless Wildfire squadron. Voyager and the USS Melbourne had used up most of the transphasic torpedoes. Only a few of the additional weapons had been produced; an inconvenience and the result of a political problem that the Federation had better deal with soon. Various factions of the political spectrum believed that the transphasic torpedo was not only too provocative but also a possible violation of the temporal Prime Directive, brought from the future by an alternate Admiral Janeway that no longer existed. It gave the wrong impression, or so the lead argument held. Those same representatives were the last to volunteer in this fight against the Cylons and most likely be the first to turn Earth and humanity over for a peaceful solution.

That was something for the diplomats to hammer out as soon as possible or there wouldn’t be anything left to argue about. Fractures like these could conceivably destroy the Federation from the inside out. And very likely that was the plan all along. The Cylons had been busy at other fronts as well. Fighting wasn’t their only skill. They were accomplished liars as well.

“Mr. Angaa, take us in.”

“Ready all quantum and photon torpedoes and target the smaller ships.”

“Target, aye Sir.”

“Number one?”

“We’re ready, Captain,” Commander Deanna Troi Riker said.

“All weapons…Fire!”

Dozens of torpedoes smashed into frantically dodging Raiders and Hunter-Killers. The survivors let loose a lethal volley of their own as the destroyers unleashed solonite-based anti-matter missiles of their own. The Enterprise and the Bronstead was hit by several missiles in the eighty-isoton range. Enterprise’s regenerative shields nearly collapsed but held. The Bronstead wasn’t so lucky as the Akira broke apart, killing all hands. The Sabers and the Intrepid-class starships went after the Destroyers with a vengeance supported by one of the Nebulas.

The Enterprise’s fired everything she had at the onrushing Extreme-class Basestar. Heavily damaged, the ship continued on trying to ram the Enterprise. The Federation vessel went evasive and the Basestar overshot its intended target and ran straight into a volley of torpedoes, phasers and isomagnetic disintegrators beams. Its shields failed and Internal explosions erupted throughout the ship, now seconds away from destruction. However before destruction claimed it, the ship fired twelve missiles the size of Defiants at them.


Janeway gasped when she was what was coming.

“Tom!”

Lieutenant Tom Paris was already pushing Voyager towards warp three and accelerating away from the half dozen missiles that were chasing it.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he asked trying to lighten the mood and failing spectacularly. “ But aren’t those the same type of missiles that tried to kill us in the Mariposa system a few months ago?”

“No,” came the answer from Tuvok. “These have an estimated destructive payload of nine thousand isotons each.

Lieutenant Harry kim blanched. “Isn’t that overkill for one little ship?”

“From a logical standpoint, Lieutenant Kim, the Cylons have made it clear that the wanted the Admiral destroyed,” Annika Chakotay said coldly. If it is overkill, it is because they are ruthlessly efficient and dedicated to this endeavor.”

“No, he’s right, Tuvok,” intervened commander Chakotay. “This was a trap and we walked into it. They knew we would come to help Wildfire.”

“I agree.”

“Warp eight,” Tuvok announced. “They’re still gaining.”

“Enterprise is skimming the edge of the nebula at maximum warp. The torpedoes are still tracking them but falling behind.”

The navigator on her must be a madman Paris thought. “We should have went that way,” he murmured to himself.

“I agree,” Tuvok said. Paris had forgotten about his hearing.

“How many transphasics do we have left?” Chakotay asked.

“Two,” Annika answered.

“Fire a full spread of quantums, proximity strike.”

“We’re at maximum warp. They’re still gaining.”

“They’re using tunnel-shift technology.”

“Ready,” Tuvok said.

“Fire.”

A full spread arced towards the missiles. The missiles reacted by dodging as many as possible, but two of them detonated the smart missiles. The crew of the Voyager had never seen an explosion that violent.

“What are they using?” someone asked in awe.

“Doesn’t matter,” Janeway responded. “Our shields and armor won't protect us from something like that.” Not even the Borg used that amount of explosives. “It’s a weapon of mass destruction designed to kill a starship. Ready the transphasics and a full spread of quantums same pattern.”

“Thirty-five seconds before they’re in range.”

“Fire.”

The torpedoes took out another two missiles. The survivors began moving unpredictably, closing on Voyager all the while. A third volley fired by Voyager never even came close to their target.

“Fifteen seconds.”

One of the missiles suddenly violently accelerated and broke into several smaller projectiles and detonated. Knocked out of warp, Voyager tossed violently in the shockwaves wake at a forty degree angle, the second missile missing them while traveling at warp nine point nine eight.

“Admiral!”

Janeway had lost consciousness for a moment. Her head was bleeding. “Chakotay?”

“Admiral? Are you all right?”

“We have to abandon ship! Warp drive and weapons are offline.”

“Did it hit us?”

“We were just in range of the blast. It blew out three quarters of Voyager’s systems. Impulse drive is shot. Admiral, Lieutenant Kim is dead.”

“Harry!”

“We’ve lost half of the crew,” Chakotay whispered urgently. “We have hull breeches throughout the Voyager. B’Elanna is barely holding engineering together. We’ve lost her.”

Kathryn’s heart broke. This had been her and ex-crew’s home for seven long years. It have brought her and her crew safely thru hostile Borg territory home stronger than ever, only to die in conflict with another robotic race. “The other missile?”

“It’s trying to reacquire us now thru the subspace interference. It’s aiming for a direct strike. Its almost two light-years away but it is coming to finish the job.”

There were at least three fires on the bridge, starting to burn out of control.

“Abandon ship. All hands abandon ship!”

She saw Harry on the floor next to his console with his back twisted at an unnatural angle. She believed she was crying but couldn’t be sure as Annika helped her into one of the escape pods.

Annika Chakotay, formally Seven of Nine, looked at the lifeless Harry one last time. “Goodbye, Lieutenant Harry Kim of the Starship Voyager,” she whispered.

The sixty-eight survivors safely out of range when the Cylon missile hit the remains of Voyager eight minutes later. Her death shone like a star in the heavens.
***

[Albert Green]

Chapter VII


The survivors were rescued an hour later by the insurgent group lead by the USS Crazyhorse. The Admiral was told that Wildfire survived and assisted in the destruction of the factory complex, before escaping into the Katasi nebula. The Hellion shipyards were all but destroyed, however the Extremes survived as did the Command Center. A hundred sixty-seven starships were destroyed and another eighty sustained damage of one form or another. The USS Enterprise, under the command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard had suffered as well. A third of her primary hull had been destroyed along with a fifth of the crew. Commander Data had been damaged and Geordi wasn’t sure if he could have repaired the damaged circuitry. The USS Melbourne’s Captain, William Riker’s back was broken. Commander Deanna Riker felt her husband’s pain and nearly went mad from the psychic backlash and terror for her loved one. Although injured seriously, he is expected to make a full recovery.

The Cylons suffered the loss of seventy Basestars, the factory complex and the subspace accelerator. A half million Cylon warriors were lost. And they didn’t care. This loss meant nothing to them as they were already repairing the damage and rebuilding with machine efficiency.

The Starfleet objective had been achieved but the cost was horrific in manpower and equipment. The allied fleet limped away with the Cylons nipping at their heels all the way until the second Klingon taskforce arrived to relieve the pressure. The clash, nicknamed the ‘battle of the Katasi Nebula’, was nearly as costly for both sides as the attack on the Katasi system.

Four days later:

In Fleet Admiral Alynna Necheyev’s office, Admiral Janeway, Commander Apollo, Chancellor Martok, Captain Kagth and President Adama stood looking at the three dimensional map of a region of the Beta quadrant. It was a wide expanse. Covering almost three thousand square light-years.

“This is the search area,” Necheyev said, “a little less than half the size of the Federation. It’s unexplored territory, the same general area I might add, where the distress signal was sent to by the creatures that took over Lieutenant Commander Derrick Remmick several years ago. According to your data, Admiral, our objective is somewhere there.”

Admiral Janeway continued the conversation. “We know that the general direction was given to the Cylons by the Borg who’ve been after the children for as long as they’ve been in existence. They consider them the final solution, the final path to perfection. So far, they’ve failed all their attempts to assimilate the children into the Collective and needless to say, the children hate the Borg. But now, the Cylons are going to try to make contact with them. This alliance between the Borg and the Cylons is an uneasy one at best. The Borg want the children whom the Cylons have offered to give them; however they have another agenda. They want to contact the creators of V’ger. It’s a vast machine society that turned the 20th century Voyager IV spacecraft into a living creature, like themselves. To them Voyager was a Kindred spirit. If they think of the Cylons in the same way, this galaxy will become a charnel house.”

The Chancellor twitched at the information given him. “How do you come by this information?” he asked.

“I’ve had several long talks with Q,” she responded. “To say he dislikes Iblis, would do it justice. But he can't directly interfere unless the rules are broken. And he doesn’t want the Cylons in contact with the Great Machine Intelligum, as they call themselves. He considers us to primitive to contact them also, but we may not have a choice.

“However, we will have to leave as soon as possible.”

“The Battlestar Galactica has been rebuilt specifically with this trip in mind. The tunnel-shift drive has been modified into a fully functional transwarp system. It’s better than any system we’ve developed and it will do the job nicely. The solium drive units have been modified as well. The Galactica can travel at warp speed, maximum warp eight point nine.”

“The Klingon Battleship Azetbur will accompany her as well,” Martok grumbled. The top-of-the-line ship was named for the daughter of Chancellor Gorkon, widely acknowledged as the only Klingon strong enough to initiate the Khitomer accords. It was a hybrid warship-science vessel, one of a few such blends in the Klingon fleet and followed the more science initiatives traits of Starfleet. “It is our newest design and has the latest weapons. It uses quantum slipstream pulse generator technology.”

Only Captain Kagth grunted in surprise. The technology had been under serious development ever since Voyager first began transmitting the data specs concerning the new FTL technology. At present the theory was that the method of obtaining FTL speeds using this technique produced a slipstream in a form of, what was being called hyperspace (actually a layer between subspace and normal space), a non-subspace dimension. Once the energies were funneled thru the array, speeds far faster than maximum warp could be produced without damaging subspace itself. The ships had to be specifically designed for use in the slipstream dimension and the first generation drive unit could only safely attain speeds of approximately one third of the original system. The ship moved by the manipulation of quantum fields, at present an entirely new science for the Federation and Klingon Empire. But it worked. But the physics were radically different that warp or transwarp drive as ships using slipstreams had to travel defined paths to get to established points. Being a warrior he pretended that such things made his head hurt, but secretly he loved reading up on the subject.

“I want to pick my own crew!” he said, failing to keep his excitement out of his voice.

“You will be allowed some freedom, Captain Kagth,” Martok said. “This mission is to promote Klingon good will across the galaxy.” His face remained as stone as he spoke. “And to find out more about our future enemies. I have picked you, because you have good relations with the Colonial humans. And I have picked one more, Ambassador Worf. He will work with the Federation on this mission.”

“One Federation vessel will accompany you on the trip,” Necheyev added. “Admiral Janeway will be in command of the mission and Commander Apollo and Captain Kagth will each report to her. She understands what you will be dealing with. There is more, but you will each receive your orders when you’re underway.”

“I will be going as well,” Adama.

“With all due respect, Mr. President, I would recommend that you stay here. Frankly you would be an unneeded reliability to this mission and your presence…”

“Fleet Admiral Necheyev.” His voice was quite and shaking with fury. “We fully appreciate everything that you and the Klingon Empire has done for us. But we are not part of the Federation. Your people were still riding animals and carried sharpened sticks when we traveled the stars. I respect your authority and you will respect mine and my choice.”

“That’s telling her, Adama,” said a voice from nowhere. A familiar flash and the Q’s, both father and son, were there, he, dressed as a Fleet Admiral and his son a mere Captain. “Humans here have little understanding of their place in the scheme of things. That’s why finding and messing things up. The Colonials with the Cylons, the Federation and the Borg, the Alliance with the…”

He stopped and smiled. “Hey I’m getting ahead of myself. Do you know why Iblis hates you? He hates and fears you because of what you may become. You race has spread itself among the stars with a vengeance, so fast that in the galactic scheme of things, it’s as though you’re traveling like lightning. Long ago in galaxies far away, there were Empires and Republics twenty-five thousand old, who have forgotten more than you have ever learned. Yet you advance so quickly, if there were a war between you two, say one hundred years from now, it would nearly end in a draw. A mere three hundred years from now, you would be able to defeat them. But you would still know nothing. Why? The answer is, because, you are still clueless about this universe. Your enlightened Prime directive, primitive and as short sighted as it is, does, I admit serve a function. But there will be times when it will threaten to destroy you all.”

“Like a little child the Federation is just at the age where it’s getting interesting. But you are still children feeling your way around a universe waiting to step on you. I warned Picard once but like all humans, he ignored the truth. So now you’re out here, groping along, stumbling from one place to another about to see wonders and terrors that will test your sanity.

“The importance of this mission precludes any one individual, Q. It is my job to make sure this mission succeeds by using whatever means I deem fit.”

“I agree, human. You simply don’t understand how high the stakes are,” Q answered her. “What happens on this mission will ultimately change your understanding of the universe, or guarantee your extinction. There are other factors, that we will be watching very closely.”

“As in?”

“Humans must understand this one thing. Your knowledge, your science is meaningless. How well you conduct yourselves will be as important as what you do.” Q gave her a rueful smile. “Such fire, such arrogance, Necheyev. You remind me of the ‘old ball and chain’. And you, Fleet Admiral are worried about whether one man should or shouldn’t go one this mission. The point is, Adama is needed. While you, Necheyev and your pitiful people are fighting to save the Alpha quadrant, they will be trying to save the galaxy. They will remember Adama long after your entire historical existence is dust. I have told Kate what she needs to know. The Cylons have already left on their journey. You should do the same. And get ready for the time of your lives.” With that, he snapped his fingers and the two of them disappeared.






Deep Space Twenty-Three:


Captain Quangnat was not pleased. First the Cylons had tried to ram a Basestar into his station and now his station was in the heart of the war. His station had been designated the embarkation point for Bravo fleet. Over two hundred ships had just moved out to join the fighting near the Cardassian border. The Cylons had made a stand there and weren’t moving. Deep Space Nine was just as heavily involved with fighting throughout the Bajoran territories. The Cylons were trying to annex the wormhole in an apparent effort to destroy it. Evidently they didn’t trust the Dominion not to get into the war. No, he wasn’t happy, but he would have been far less happy if the fleet wasn’t there. How had Sisko done it and remained sane?

Outside his window, floating majestically in the void was the Colonial Republic’s Battlestar Galactica. Its refit completed, it looked more formidable than when he had first seen it. The front dual sensor array and twin rotating pulse disruptor cannons was intimidating to day the least. The side mounted warp nacelles sat flushed to the downsized-flattened solium subspace engines. Every seventy seconds, two of the Viper Two’s and Three’s entered in the spacious landing bays. The Cobras squadrons had already landed, as had the two Adders, both of whom had docked on the undercarriage of the huge Battlestar. There were already two Sabers docked underneath as well

Next to her, floated a Klingon battleship, of unknown configuration, as big as a Sovereign–class starship. It was a tapered vehicle with fairly thickened wings. The overall design looked more Romulan than Klingon, he thought, and more triangular-shaped. Armed to the teeth, of course. It was their version of an explorer-class vessel

Probably shaped like that to facilitate movement when using slipstream. Personally he would have loved to get a good look inside, but he didn’t have the time. They would be leaving within the next four hours and he couldn’t afford the luxury. But he did wish, just for a fleeting second, that he too, was going.



Admiral Janeway and her first Officer, Commander Chakotay and a Romulan Commander, were the last to transported to the third of the three vessels that would make the journey into unknown territory. The USS Colin Powell, a modified Sovereign, was fifteen meters larger, boasting a crew compliment of thirteen hundred. Outfitted with the latest scientific advances, labs and environmental friendly warp drive with a cruising speed of warp nine point two. The nacelles were similar to the intrepid class, adjusting position to maximize efficiency. It also boasted a working pulse-quantum slipstream field generator. Like its Klingon counterpart, the new slipstream shielding allowed the ship to better transit to resist the intense strain that slipstream brought to bear on the ships hull. The generator itself could only be used for one point five hour’s duration, equivalent to seven thousand light-years. It was a milestone in FTL travel, but still first generation technology. The system had been rigorously tested and pronounced fit.

Her first stop was the engine room. Lieutenant B’Elanna Torres-Paris was there, yelling for last minute adjustments and generally whipping the engineering into shape-her idea of it.

“I didn’t think they could do it,” she said to the Admiral. “The power utilization is still higher than I’d like but the Starfleeters did okay.”

“We sent them the specs over al year ago. They’ve been working on it since then. I expected them to get it right. How’s Miral?”

“All tucked away and settled in. She’s a Starfleet brat all the way.”

What a change in this woman, Kathryn thought ruefully. “Good. I shall leave things in your capable hands.”

On the bridge, the first person she was Tuvok at his station. He looked better than she expected considering the injuries sustained on Voyager. The Vulcan’s eyebrow rose a fraction when he saw who was with her. It was unprecedented to have a Romulan Commander onboard.

Tom was there seated at navigations, excited and depressed at the same time. She walked over to him and touched him on the shoulder. “I miss him, too,” she whispered.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whispered back. “He would have loved this.”

“I know.”

To Tom’s left, was another officer, getting comfortable as it were.

“It’s good to see you here, Commander data. Welcome aboard.”

“I am glad to be here, Admiral. I hope that I may contribute to the mission according to expectations.”

“I’m sure you will.”

“Greetings, Commander Sela,” Data said. “ I hope you, will find this mission enlightening.”

“If she could have shot him, she would have. She hated being here. And she needed to be here. Her people had a stake in this also. And her history made her an obvious choice.

She hated that also.



The suggestion to add Data to the crew had been Picard’s. What better way to show the children of an amalgam of organic and machine our intentions by having a crew of both organic and inorganic entities, humanoid and non-humanoid. Carbon based and silcon-based, working together fro a common goal?”

It was sound logic and she jumped at the suggestion. And the two Hortas Ensigns in geophysical sciences were an added bonus.

Then there was Commander Worf, another addition to the bridge crew, looking all serious and stoic at tactical. She nodded and he nodded back.

“Admiral,” Worf said.

“Mr. Worf, glad to have you onboard.” She turned to Communications. “Give me shipwide.”

“Aye, Admiral. Ship-wide.”

“This is Admiral Janeway. I want to say to all of you, welcome aboard. There are those here that have served with me before and those who have served this vessel, making it ready for this great undertaking we are about to embark on. You have far more experience with the internal workings on this ship that I could possibly understand and I will be counting on that expertise to pull this mission off and get us back safely. Our families are onboard and we will be responsible for their safety and we will not let them down. Our mission is to contact the descendants of the entity called V’ger. It’s also the mission of the Cylons, so it’s a race that we must win; not only for the Federation, but for our families and the Alpha quadrant. I can't stress enough the importance of this mission. So let’s be on our toes, do what we’ve been trained for and we will succeed. One last thing. This request was made by Fleet Admiral Necheyev, and what she wants she usually gets. Because of this mission, this vessel has been renamed from the Colin Powell to the USS Voyager B, in honor of another ship which I am proud to say, served its crew excellently, thru seven years of hardship and pain. She brought her crew safely thru the storm-home. May this ship do as well…”



The Battlestar Galactica:

On the bridge, Commander Apollo stood next to his son, Captain Boxey and Lieutenant Joliet. “Are you ready?”

Boxey gave a resounding yes, but Joliet was less enthused.

“I fell strange leaving the people that I have protected so long, to go on this mission.”

“Our people at Mariposa are better protected than eve before. They have the Pegasus and Commander Cain with Wildstar. They have the Federation and the Klingons and the Colonial remnant fleet, which is getting stronger everyday, making sure that nothing happens to them. If we don’t go, the Cylons might become too powerful. We have to stop that from happening. They are our ancient enemies and we brought them here. It’s our responsibility to stop them from destroying everything.”

“I feel responsible. I feel like we’re about to abandon them.”

“I know. The President and I feel the same way. But we both understand that what’s at stake. Our squadrons, especially the Cobras must train even harder. I want you Boxey, to work them. I don’t know what’s out there, but there is a Cylon taskforce searching for the same thing as we are. They’re the best that they have. We know one of them is the Turrent, the same Basestar that destroyed every vessel that came up against itwith. It’s as fast as we are with possibly more firepower. I need the squadron in top form, especially with the Peregrines. They may have had better technology by we’ve had a lot more experience. They need as much practice as they can get and we need to learn how to work with them better. The Cylons won't give us a second chance, if we make a mistake.”



High Lieutenant Athena and Lieutenant Commander Thomas William Riker had just left, leaving him alone with his wife and the glowing crystal in front of him. Tinia sat next to her husband speechless.

“Why now?” asked Adama.

“Because you asked,” the Aeriana nswered within their minds. The crystal shard pulsated with an inner light. It was brighter now, as it generated internal energy that suffused the room with its light. “I understand that you are living beings. Communication is possible now. I have made it so. I will provide balance.”

“I don’t how long it will take.”

“What is time to a star?”





There was laughter from the creature called Iblis as the three Starships warped away towards the unknown regions of the Beta quadrant. The game had progressed. There were unknown variables, but the future would be bathed in Blood.

He would make sure of it.



Q and Q, and Amanda, John and Trelane were watching also. “I almost envy them,” Q whispered. “Everything will be new to them.”

“Well, let’s make sure that Iblis doesn’t interfere.”

“Four to one should be enough.”

Q grunted. “I have faith in Kate. I just hope they brought enough with them. This is not going to be easy.”

The five of them disappeared.

It had begun.