Part XXV
Grand Admiral Thrawn lowered the datapad. "I'd say your suspicions are correct, major," he said to Delric Taar. "The number of former drones in the galaxy are near zero, and she looks a great deal like the woman Picard brought with her."
"I took the liberty of examining her Starfleet file, sir," Taar said. "The computer has determined it's an almost certain match."
Thrawn seemed to reflect on the matter; he'd only returned from the alpha quadrant a few hours earlier, so he no doubt had a keen grasp of the local political situation. "What do you think, major?"
"Obviously the Federation will want their officer back," Taar said. "And from what I've read, they'll go to great lengths to do so."
"And so if you were to decide on a course of action?"
Taar considered. "Frankly, sir, the Federation would merely get underfoot out here. We'd have political strain that we've so far been able to avoid. There's also the matter of Rebel activity... if the two groups run across one another, it could also cause political problems. In my opinion, keeping them out of the delta quadrant is important, sir. The officer has been publicly recorded; simply writing her off as killed won't work in the long run. The best course of action would be to inform her commanding officer and instruct him that we will locate and return her with all alacrity."
"Excellent diagnosis," Thrawn said with that thin smile of his. "As you've had some experience with this Tsunkatse, I'm charging you with finding a means to locate our lost officer. I'll tend to Picard... he will no doubt need someone to pat his hand."
"Yes, admiral," Taar said with a slight bow.
"And major," Thrawn said. "Your opinion of the Borg is well-known, and certainly understandable. However, do remember that she's a citizen of our ally now... it would be an unnecessary strain if she was damaged or killed."
"Of course, sir," Taar said.
"Just so we understand one another," Thrawn said, turning away and lighting up a hologram of some work of art Taar didn't recognize. "Excellent work, major. I think your future is looking very bright."
"Thank you, sir," Taar said, and left.
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The door opened, and 7 of 9 stepped into the arena. It wasn't the usual one; this one instead had four doors into a slightly larger room, because there were twice the number of fighters. But for her, there were three times the number of adversaries, and they swaggered into the arena with the confidence of those who know that numbers give them the opportunity to beat the living hell out of someone else with relative impunity.
The overseer had been pleased with the results of the red match, though disappointed that the fight was rather brief. The crowd was going to be even bigger the next time, he said, for the chance to see her in a fight. "They love to hate you," he'd said, which only further supported 7 of 9's perspective that emotions were irrational and useless. This lopsided match was intended to give the crowd what they wanted: a chance to watch a Borg beaten within an inch of her life. 7 of 9, of course, had no intention of letting that happen.
The chime sounded and the match began, the three fighters coming at 7 of 9 with grins on their faces. But they lacked the ability to analyze and adapt. She was stronger, faster, and more agile than any of them, and their numerical advantage was limited because their fighting experience was in solo matches; they weren't going to function as a team. They were overconfident, easily controlled by their emotions, and stupid. If 7 of 9 were capable of it, she'd pity them.
They moved slowly towards her; apparently each wanted to be the second to attack so that the first could serve as a distraction. "You are afraid," she said with as much contempt as a Borg could allow. "Yet you possess superior numbers. Clearly you are small, weak." She turned her back on them; it got their blood boiling, and they charged her. She listened to the sound of their rapid footsteps, calculated the rate of travel while triangulating their precise distance from her last view of their position. Before they reached her but after they had too much momentum to stop, her legs shot out at opposite angles and she dropped into the splits. They were still performing their attack motions under inertia, but up over her head, so she snapped her left fist up and connected with the polaric sensor on the one, sending him flying backwards. She followed up by rolling back slightly and swung her leg straight up, kicking another in the face. The third seemed to favor kicks himself, because after his initial attack he quickly used his momentum to come back around and catch 7 of 9 on the side of the head.
7 of 9 rolled with the kick and got back to her feet. The fighter made the mistake of trying to catch her off guard, but she was Borg, and thus always on guard. She caught his leg at the ankle. He quickly followed up with a kick with his other leg, hoping she wouldn't expect him to try it. She caught that ankle as well, and with nothing else to support him he hit his head on the floor of the arena. The fighter she'd kicked came back at her at that moment, but now she had a weapon. She hit him with the other fighter, hard enough to hear her weapon's ribs crack under the blow. The two went down in a pile, the one with the bad ribs on top. The one underneath tried to push him off, aggravating the injury so that the other howled in pain and struck him. As expected; they weren't a team, and their emotions made them pathetic. The remaining fighter came at her, striking fast, but the technique was all speed, no tactics. 7 of 9 blocked the blows, then grabbed him and pulled hard.
Around 7 of 9's left eye is the visible remnant of her ocular piece. In the effort to look more human the piece was removed and a human-looking eye was put in its place. But the fact was that metallic item was anchored deep into her skull with technology that had been honed over a hundred thousand years. When 7 of 9 drove the fighters forehead into the piece it was like headbutting a tritanium bulkhead. His eyes rolled under the impact, and she held him back, secure in one hand while she drew back the other and punched him solidly in the face, so that his head snapped back with whiplash.
The kick came from behind, catching 7 of 9 off guard and sending her stumbling. The one with the bad ribs laid unconscious, the other having apparently pummeled him after his ill-advised strike. The whiplash one was lying on the floor of the arena and didn't seem eager to get back up, which made this a one-on-one match again. 7 of 9 tried to recover but the fighter pushed the advantage, striking her polaric sensor so that she hit the wall. She felt pain, then disregarded it; she was injured, it had served its purpose, now focusing on it would merely provide an illogical distraction. Instead she pushed off the wall back into the fight.
7 of 9 could sense her systems were impaired from the earlier blow to the head and this one. She was weak now that she did not have the Collective standing behind her, but she would not allow that weakness to get the better of her. She observed her adversary as he struck; he was angry, which meant he would be inclined to satisfy emotion rather than make sound tactical decisions. He snarled at her like a beast, and the crowd cheered him on while 7 of 9 blocked his blows. He offered another pitiable animal noise, and 7 of 9's hand shot out and grabbed onto his mouth. He was shocked at having a mouth full of Borg fingers, so he was caught off guard as she yanked him forward while at the same time swinging at his face. The blow connected, his jaw visibly dislocating under the opposing strain, and he stumbled back and fell. He moaned in pain, but the match wasn't over until he was knocked out, so 7 of 9 walked over and casually kicked the side of his head until he slumped back. She assessed the others, but they were out as well.
7 of 9 looked up at the holographic crowd; they booed her. They loved to hate her... they'd be back next time to see her again, even though they despised her. It was pathetically irrational. She turned her back and walked out of the arena, leaving their empty jeers behind her.
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Picard's jaw dropped open. "Kidnapped?"
"It would appear so, captain," Thrawn said. "We've made a few inquiries, and while it is firmly denied by any authority, it is universally understood that the Tsunkatse fighters have been kidnapped and forced to participate against their will."
Seven and Travis... two of his officers. And here he was on the other side of the galaxy in the middle of a war. "Can they be persuaded to release my people?" Picard asked. "What do they want?"
"We know little at the moment, captain," Thrawn said. "But I recognize that the Federation -and you in particular- are concerned for the well-being of your people. Major Taar has been tasked with locating and retrieving your two officers. I shouldn't have to tell you he's quite capable."
"Yes, admiral." Picard had read up on Taar after the first meeting regarding the Borg War, and he was certainly a fine officer. The fact that he also managed to survive the devastation of the Imperial fleet also showed he was cunning, which would no doubt prove invaluable. "Thank you for taking this so seriously."
"Of course, captain. Our nations are friends, after all. I promise you, we will find these people. Oh, and captain, I'm sending the file my men recorded of the fight your officer was in. If you see anything in it that may aid the major in his investigation, please contact him."
"Yes, thank you admiral." Thrawn nodded and the image vanished. It was pretty amazing, when Picard thought about it; the man was on the other side of the galaxy, but thanks to the recently completed network they were able to hold a real time conversation. Of course, his enthusiasm was severely dampened by the news. "Computer," he said. "Re-route the incoming transmission to Holodeck 1. Mr. Data."
"Aye sir," came the response over the comm.
"Meet me in Holodeck 1," he said as he left his ready room. The two met up in the hall, and Picard quickly filled him in on his conversation with Thrawn.
"We will not be mounting a rescue, sir?" Data asked.
"With the war going on and the Empire already handling it, Starfleet would never approve," Picard said. "We're just going to have to trust our allies." The two entered the holodeck. "Computer, begin program." They watched, and as the fight played out, the color drained from Picard's face. Seven of Nine was merciless, unrelenting, and unstoppable.
"Are you all right, sir?" Data asked.
Picard shook his head, unable to take his eyes from the horrible scene. "I thought she'd changed, Data," he said quietly. "I wanted to believe so badly that she could re-embrace her humanity..."
Data's brow furrowed and he looked between Picard and the holographic recreation of the fight. "I do not understand your remarks, captain. Seven of Nine is fighting under duress; I do not see what relevance her humanity plays into it."
"Look at her, Data," Picard said gravely. "She's fighting like a Borg. There's nothing human there."
"Respectfully, sir, that is an unfair judgment on your part." Picard turned to Data, surprised at the frankness of the remark. "If this were Lt. Travis, fighting with savage ferocity to stay alive, would you conclude that he was not human?"
"That's not the same at all, Data," Picard said, slightly annoyed. "Desperation may drive us to embrace our baser instincts; it's not something to be proud of, but that at least is understandable."
"That they were merely giving in to repressed instincts because there was no other way to survive?"
"Yes, Data."
"Then would it not follow, sir, that the lieutenant is merely doing the same? That even though she has fought for some time to suppress her Borg instincts, that even though she has struggled daily to embrace the best of her humanity, that the strain of being forced to preserve her life has caused her merely to surrender to those instincts? That she is simply trying to survive as anyone would?" Picard said nothing. "Are we to hold her to a higher standard, sir, simply because her instincts are not human?"
Picard looked back at the frozen image of Seven of Nine and took a deep breath. "No, of course not," he said quietly. "Bench." A bench appeared, and Picard sat on it wearily. "After what happened," he said, "on the bridge and in the brig, I felt I owed it to her to make up for my prejudices. I've gotten to know her quite well, Data."
"Seven has confessed to me that she has found you to be a much-needed guide for her, and she is grateful for what you have done."
"But still," Picard said, "after all we've discussed... it's like a trick knee that goes out when you least expect it. That prejudice is in me, and it's towards one of my own officers... what kind of captain does that make me, Data?" He stopped. "Apparently a typical one of Starfleet, given how they've looked at you," he said moodily. "How flawed mankind is..."
"Captain," Data said, "while I confess my lack of advancement is a source of personal frustration, I recognize that humanity is merely guilty of being imperfect. To expect otherwise would be an unfair expectation for me to have... and for you to have of yourself. You are imperfect, captain... but you recognize that fact, and have tried to compensate for it. That makes you a great captain, and if I may say, sir, a great human being."
Picard smiled a little and chuckled at the situation. "Thank you, Data. You are a very wise man." He got back to his feet. "Let's run this again, shall we? Those are our people out there, and we're going to do our damndest to get them home."
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7 of 9 took some water after she returned to the room housing the fighters. Without the strength of the Collective this body required more maintenance than normal. Since her survival required it, she dutifully saw to all of it.
"Bravo!" the overseer declared as he entered the room, flanked by his armed guards. "What an exceptional performance," he said, the words slithering out of his mouth. "I had expected you to suffer a humiliating defeat, but it seems that you are more powerful than I had imagined." The idea of it seemed practically to arouse him. "Finding you must have been destiny."
"That opinion is absurd," 7 of 9 said, "and your compliments are irrelevant. I will provide this service out of necessity, not because you hold illogical romantic notions on this activity."
The overseer's mouth twisted into a haunting smile. "I should have known that the warrior in you would emerge with enough provocation. I'm so glad that Hirogen talked me out of putting you in a red match at the start... I'd never have realized what a treasure you would prove to be." He nodded slowly, knowingly. "Yessss... I wonder if you have it in you to become our new champion."
"I am uninterested in being a champion," 7 of 9 said. "My status as a fighter is irrelevant." She switched to the important matter. "I require a vascular regenerator to repair cranial damage suffered in the recent match. You will provide it, now."
"Of course, champion," the overseer said with a grin.
"Your attempts to lure me in with promises of a title will fail. It is irrelevant."
The overseer chuckled quietly. "This is wonderful... the more Borg-like you act, the more people will want to see you fall. Yes, a red match with the champion. If he wins, it will truly be a crowd-pleaser. If you win... they will come back again and again, waiting for the hero to rise up and overthrow the Borg tyrant."
"I am no tyrant, I am a slave," 7 of 9 said. "Your continued romanticism does nothing to change the reality of the situation."
"We'll see what the crowd thinks," the overseer said. "They are the true arbiters. Borg versus Wookiee... this will definitely pack them into the arenas across the sector." He swept out, followed by his guards.
7 of 9 left to check on Lt. Travis. Her duty required her to ensure his survival, so it necessitated assessing his treatment. It seemed to be progressing well enough, though the overseer was obviously holding back in a misguided belief it would encourage her continued cooperation. "You seem to be recovering," she observed.
"Thanks to you," Travis said. "How are you handling this?"
"As you said, it is necessary, thus I am approaching it as the requirement of the situation."
"You seem... different," he finally said.
"I have adapted to the situation," 7 of 9 said. "As you suggested."
Travis looked unsure. "You sure you're okay?"
"I am functioning at optimal levels," 7 of 9 said. "Now, I must heal my injuries, then make suitable preparations for my next match. The champion has superior strength, I must devise tactics, so that I can most efficiently kill him."
Unity I: Worlds Without End, Redux (Complete)
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Part XXVI
Garak had the panel off the wall of his cell and was analyzing the circuitry inside when Bossk walked in. Garak turned and gave him a smile and a nod. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Get away from there," Bossk growled. Given his strong saurian resemblance, "growled" took on a new meaning.
Garak looked at the panel, then back at Bossk. "Hmm... no." And returned to work. Bossk pointed the blaster at him, and repeated the phrase with even more menace in his tone. "The transparisteele wall is going to stop your shot from ever reaching me, so I don't know what you expect to accomplish."
Bossk let out a growl that even the universal translator could only shrug at. He activated the door release and stepped inside. "Move aside," he ordered.
"Now you're thinking," Garak said as he complied. "A threat's actually useful if you can back it up."
"On your knees," Bossk rumbled. "Hands behind your head." Garak complied. Bossk pulled a pair of binders from his belt and slowly circled around Garak, blaster pointed at his head. He wrapped the binder around one wrist and gave it a yank; Garak moved like the strike of a cobra. His other hand shot up and drove a needle straight into Bossk's eye. The pain was a horrible distraction, and Garak pressed it, battering the Trandoshan until the blaster came free. Garak dropped snatched it up, and rolled out of reach. The entire event had taken less than five seconds.
"Not amateurish," Garak said, blaster trained on Bossk, "but not exactly impressive. I know I'm worth more alive than dead, but is it worth the calculated risk when dealing with a dangerous individual?" He made a noise of disappointment. "You should have stunned me into unconsciousness and then put the binders on, but you didn't want to risk another shot so soon and accidentally kill me. I'm afraid that's going to cost you far more than Imperial credits." He switched the blaster over to stun and zapped Bossk in the chest.
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Delric Taar looked over the information in the datafile. It wasn't terribly helpful, unfortunately. His efforts to find a way to contact the Tsunkatse people to discuss the Federation officers' release was going nowhere, with one diplomatic wall after another going up. His hatred for bureaucracy was growing, as well as the politics that required him to waste time on this rather than getting back to his real work of smashing the Borg menace.
The report from the officers at one of the arenas had some leads. The fights were transferred there by the same holographic signals the Imperials had been tapping into to watch the fights. Their efforts to trace them back were unsuccessful so far, but all that meant was that they needed to devote more people to the job. Put some personnel at every arena, and all that information should point a nice big arrow to wherever that transmission was coming from. Then they could move in, get them out, and get down to business.
Taar had watched the transmission for the latest Borg fight as well. He'd expected as much. Take them out of the Collective and nothing changed. They weren't people, just things... dangerous things too, from the look of it. Thrawn had given his instructions, so Taar wouldn't think about any accidents happening to her, but he knew the galaxy would probably be much better off if she met an untimely end.
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Bossk's remaining eye opened, swept the room, and focused on Garak, reflecting unfettered hostility. "Ah, welcome back," Garak said, seated on a stool nearby. Bossk looked down; he'd been stripped and lashed solidly to the workbench. "Let me point out a few pertinent facts, Mr. Bossk," Garak said. "You're a dangerous man; the difference between you and I is that I recognize that fact in you, so I will always err on the side of caution. Thus, today you are going to die. Anything else is an unnecessary risk. Second, after seven years of working as a tailor I'm very good with needles, as you've learned. Third, since we're in your shop I also have access to all kinds of other means of persuasion. So, the question you've got to ask yourself is how much you want to suffer before you die?" Bossk hissed at him. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Impress me?" Garak smiled and shook his head. "I'm the head of the Obsidian Order, Mr. Bossk; neither of those has any effect on me." Carefully, in full view of Bossk's one good eye, Garak picked up a long needle with a pair of pliers, then slowly played them across a plasma torch. His eyes flicked up to Bossk, and his smile deepened. "Pride before pain... some would find that heroic, but I see it for the stupidity it is. You can surrender or make me break you, but the result is inevitable."
Bossk snarled at him. "I will tell you what I know," he spat.
"Good," Garak said setting down the plasma torch. "Let's start with your ship."
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The Rebel base's main conference room was filled with high-ranking officers from Cardassia and Romulus. The New Alliance was planning its first major assault against the Empire, and it was agreed that a thorough understanding of their enemy was going to be the key to victory. Luke Skywalker sat in the back of the room while Tycho Celchu took center stage. Wedge was head of fighter tactics but had wisely passed things over to Tycho for this meeting. As a former Imperial pilot, Tycho could give a very solid briefing and answer questions that would have been beyond Wedge's own experiences.
Tycho was all business, he got down to laying out the strengths and weaknesses of the Imperator. There was an interruption by a Romulan officer. "We know all this," he said with mild annoyance. "What's your point?"
"That you're outgunned and outclassed," Tycho said frankly. "So you're going to have to change your strategy if you want to win this war."
"We are."
"With all due respect," Tycho said, "if that were true I wouldn't be here."
A very uncomfortable silence followed. "Commander Celchu is correct," Admiral Riklin eventually said. "I suggest we all listen to him." He stared at the officer who had spoken up for a short while, then turned back to Tycho. "Please continue."
Tycho laid out further details about means of attacks. Luke nodded; he was holding up rather well under the weight of all this brass. "We have word there are two Imperators patrolling in this system," Tycho said, indicating the location on the holographic star map. "They're accompanied by three K't'inga and two Vor'chas. This will be our first target; we'll be employing eight Galors, ten D'deridex, two squadrons of X-wings, a squadron of B-wings, and twenty T'lix." There was a great deal of talk at the last point. "Admiral," Tycho said to Riklin, "perhaps you'd like to explain."
Riklin arose and came to the front. "We've retrofitted several shuttles with improved sub-light engines while increasing power to disruptors and torpedo capacity. The T'lix is unfortunately no longer able to achieve warp, although with the influx of hyperdrive technology that is hardly a need for concern." A diagram appeared. "They will attach to a D'deridex using weak gravitational clamps to enter and leave battle."
"These are to counteract the Imperial fighters, sir?" a Romulan officer asked.
"No, that's what our fighter squadrons will be for. The T'lix will be charged with targeting the sensor domes to limit the Imperials' ability to fight us. After that, they'll go after targets of opportunity."
"But maneuverability is key," Tycho said. "You won't be able to survive any hits from the turbolasers."
Riklin laid out more of the mission details as Leia came in. "Luke," she whispered, "we need to talk." Luke got up and slipped out of the room. "We've got a dangerous but potentially invaluable opportunity," she explained. "I don't know if you heard, but the Death Star has been completed and is in this galaxy."
"Yeah, I heard," Luke said grimly. Like many he'd been wondering if it was a fatal mistake in not taking it down when there was an opportunity.
"One of our agents has access to the plans for the new Death Star," Leia said. "But the Empire is being very careful; they can't get them to us because of how tightly their personnel are being watched here in the Milky Way."
"Can't someone back home find them?" Luke asked.
"For all we know they have it," Leia said. "But we have no way of getting there to find out, not with the wormhole being so heavily guarded. With the Death Star here, we need to do whatever we have to to get those plans."
"I understand," Luke said. "What's the plan?"
"The Empire has suddenly taken an interest in this thing called Tsunkatse," Leia said. "This came down from Thrawn himself, so whatever it is is important. With all this traffic -sending Imperial forces all around the sector- they should be able to sneak the plans into one of the arenas... but there's still a chance of being caught."
"You want me to get the plans," Luke said.
"It's very dangerous," she said nervously. "But you know how important those plans could be for us. You are the best hope we have of getting the plans and getting out of there alive."
"I'll do it," he said without hesitation.
"Luke, think carefully," Leia said. "I'm not overplaying this... Thrawn is very clever, this may be a trap."
"Maybe, but the bait is worth it," Luke said. "Without the plans for the last one, we'd never have lasted this long. I'll go."
Leia embraced him. "Be careful."
"Of course," Luke said. "When is it going down?"
"Two days," Leia said. "We picked a match that's going to be as full of people as possible, to make it easier for you two to slip in and out." She looked at a datapad. "It's a battle to the death between a Wookiee and a Borg."
"Sounds like fun," Luke said dryly. "I guess I better hope I'm not in a match of my own against a few hundred stormtroopers."
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The Hound's Tooth settled onto a Romulan landing pad; a small battalion of troops was waiting for it. Weapons were held at the ready as the ramp opened. Garak cautiously walked down, hands in plain site. A squad broke off and met him, scanning him. The corporal nodded; "He checks out, sir."
The Romulan general stepped forward. "You've taken a hell of a risk, Mr. Garak," he said sternly.
"My apologies," Garak said. "I rather thought the war was our top-most priority." He held out a data chip. "On here you'll find a list of Federation, Imperial, and Klingon ship deployments across the area."
The Romulan general took it with suspicion. "Where did you get this?"
"I created it, of course," Garak said. "This is a bounty hunter ship hired by the Empire; they're not going to be surprised that it's flying around the area." He smiled, but it had no humor in it. "Things are dire, I'm afraid; that's why I came here instead of Cardassia. The Federation and the Empire are gearing up for an attack on Cardassia Prime itself. We have to get this information to the New Alliance personnel as quickly as possible. I'd have taken it there myself, but I didn't want to risk the chance the Imperials were tracking this ship."
The general nodded grimly. "We have a few hyperdive-equipped transports," he said. "You'll be on one within the hour."
"Thank you general."
"Thank you, Mr. Garak," the general said. "This knowledge will be invaluable."
"I only hope it's enough to spare Cardassia from being razed again," Garak said. "If it is, I don't know if we can rebuild it again.
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Picard sat down at the head of the meeting table, his anxiety visible to the crew. He had grown so tired of these briefings, so tired of being the bearer of sad news. He hoped, hoped with all his heart, that this war would end quickly. Unfortunately, that seemed less likely now than ever. "At approximately 1500 hours yesterday an Imperial-Klingon force was moving on routine patrol through Sector 592 when it was attacked and destroyed. The attacking fleet consisted of Romulans, Cardassians, and a group of ships identified by the Imperial ships as being 'rebels.'"
Riker's eyes widened. "So we've confirmed the Rebellion's in our galaxy now?"
Picard nodded. "It looks that way. The fleet had the Imperials and Klingons hopelessly outnumbered and destroyed them all. This, as you are aware, marks the first clear victory for the Romulans in this war. While the rebels' ships did not play a large part in this attack, the battle showed a completely new set of tactics being used, which suggests that they have briefed their new friends in Imperial weaknesses." He sighed. "The Federation has declared that a state of war exists between the United Federation of Planets and the Rebel Alliance."
There were several shocked looks around the room. "What about the Prime Directive?" Troi asked. "We can't become involved with an internal group engaged in open revolt against another a government, even one of our allies."
"That fact was considered, but Ambassador Talva was apparently very convincing." It pained him greatly to have to be delivering such news; the Prime Directive wasn't something that could be ignored when it becomes inconvenient, it was the heart of their principles... and every day, it seemed those principles were becoming less and less important. "Regardless, we must be prepared for a revitalized enemy, one who may be crossing our borders at any moment. We'll be remaining here at Earth to have further modifications made to the Enterprise. While we're here, Data, Admiral Parks has requested that you brief the Imperials on the known current level of both Romulan and Cardassian technology."
Data looked slightly puzzled. "Captain, there are no doubt others in Starfleet who have information that is far more up to date than I possess."
"Admiral Parks says that the Empire wants you to do it. You'll be given access to the latest intelligence data for your briefing; but your real value is sheer volume of information. It is felt that you are the most suited for this mission."
Data nodded. "Aye sir. Since I have no other duties at the moment, it would be a logical allocation of Federation resources." There was no bitterness in his tone, but Picard wondered if that was because he'd kept his emotion chip off.
As the crew filed out Picard motioned to Riker, who with a curious look returned to his seat. Picard sighed and leaned his forehead against his folded hands, his eyes closed almost as if in prayer. His muffled voice reached his first officer's bewildered ears. "How are the simulations going?"
"Fine, sir. Everyone seems to be in peak performance." There was quiet. "Is this about Seven of Nine, sir?"
"No," Picard said. "How has your performance been, Will?" Picard asked slowly.
Riker didn't know quite how to reply. "I'm not sure I understand. Has there been a problem, sir?"
Picard finally met Riker's gaze. "With you, no. With the universe, most definitely a yes." He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the stars. "I've been thinking, Will. There's a bold new future on the horizon, if we can get to it. Unfortunately, there's a nasty war that stands between here and there. A war built on mistakes and prejudices of the past. And of old men."
"Sir?"
Picard turned to face him, his face deadly serious. "I've considered stepping down, Will. Turning this war over to those with the strength to see it through." He walked slowly around the table, almost thinking aloud. "There's been too much bloodshed. Too many good officers, men and women that I've had to watch die. Too much pointless destruction." He stopped, his face fixed with a look of determination. "Next to the Borg invasion, I don't think the Federation has ever been as threatened as it is right now. We are at the heart of a conflict involving two galaxies, Will, and it's time for those with the will to see us through to step up."
Riker rose to his feet and met Picard's gaze. "Sir, I think there is no one to better lead us than the man who has stood in command of a ship called Enterprise for the past ten years." He smiled a little. "You may be old, but with that age comes wisdom and experience, which is what we'll need to pull through."
"The mind may be equipped," Picard replied, "but the spirit isn't, not any more. Battle isn't just about tactics and weaponry; it's about passion and gut instinct, and I'm afraid that I've been in rather short supply of both of late." He sighed. "The things that weigh on my mind, Will, like Data..."
Riker filled in the blanks. "You leave, I become captain, Data gets promoted to first officer." He shook his head. "Captain, what happened with Data was a travesty, but leaving the Enterprise over it isn't going to truly solve anything."
"I set him up to fall, Will," Picard said. "And there's no soft place for him to land. He's too decent a person to take Seven's place, but-"
"Jean-luc," Riker said, "this isn't your fault."
"I know, but it's just one more thing that weighs on my mind, Will," Picard said.
"Give this some time," Riker said. "Don't rush into anything."
"I've thought about it a great deal, Will," Picard said.
"Give it a little more," Riker said. "Things are changing... maybe it'll come sooner than you think."
"Possibly... I'm just afraid of what that change will be."
Garak had the panel off the wall of his cell and was analyzing the circuitry inside when Bossk walked in. Garak turned and gave him a smile and a nod. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Get away from there," Bossk growled. Given his strong saurian resemblance, "growled" took on a new meaning.
Garak looked at the panel, then back at Bossk. "Hmm... no." And returned to work. Bossk pointed the blaster at him, and repeated the phrase with even more menace in his tone. "The transparisteele wall is going to stop your shot from ever reaching me, so I don't know what you expect to accomplish."
Bossk let out a growl that even the universal translator could only shrug at. He activated the door release and stepped inside. "Move aside," he ordered.
"Now you're thinking," Garak said as he complied. "A threat's actually useful if you can back it up."
"On your knees," Bossk rumbled. "Hands behind your head." Garak complied. Bossk pulled a pair of binders from his belt and slowly circled around Garak, blaster pointed at his head. He wrapped the binder around one wrist and gave it a yank; Garak moved like the strike of a cobra. His other hand shot up and drove a needle straight into Bossk's eye. The pain was a horrible distraction, and Garak pressed it, battering the Trandoshan until the blaster came free. Garak dropped snatched it up, and rolled out of reach. The entire event had taken less than five seconds.
"Not amateurish," Garak said, blaster trained on Bossk, "but not exactly impressive. I know I'm worth more alive than dead, but is it worth the calculated risk when dealing with a dangerous individual?" He made a noise of disappointment. "You should have stunned me into unconsciousness and then put the binders on, but you didn't want to risk another shot so soon and accidentally kill me. I'm afraid that's going to cost you far more than Imperial credits." He switched the blaster over to stun and zapped Bossk in the chest.
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Delric Taar looked over the information in the datafile. It wasn't terribly helpful, unfortunately. His efforts to find a way to contact the Tsunkatse people to discuss the Federation officers' release was going nowhere, with one diplomatic wall after another going up. His hatred for bureaucracy was growing, as well as the politics that required him to waste time on this rather than getting back to his real work of smashing the Borg menace.
The report from the officers at one of the arenas had some leads. The fights were transferred there by the same holographic signals the Imperials had been tapping into to watch the fights. Their efforts to trace them back were unsuccessful so far, but all that meant was that they needed to devote more people to the job. Put some personnel at every arena, and all that information should point a nice big arrow to wherever that transmission was coming from. Then they could move in, get them out, and get down to business.
Taar had watched the transmission for the latest Borg fight as well. He'd expected as much. Take them out of the Collective and nothing changed. They weren't people, just things... dangerous things too, from the look of it. Thrawn had given his instructions, so Taar wouldn't think about any accidents happening to her, but he knew the galaxy would probably be much better off if she met an untimely end.
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Bossk's remaining eye opened, swept the room, and focused on Garak, reflecting unfettered hostility. "Ah, welcome back," Garak said, seated on a stool nearby. Bossk looked down; he'd been stripped and lashed solidly to the workbench. "Let me point out a few pertinent facts, Mr. Bossk," Garak said. "You're a dangerous man; the difference between you and I is that I recognize that fact in you, so I will always err on the side of caution. Thus, today you are going to die. Anything else is an unnecessary risk. Second, after seven years of working as a tailor I'm very good with needles, as you've learned. Third, since we're in your shop I also have access to all kinds of other means of persuasion. So, the question you've got to ask yourself is how much you want to suffer before you die?" Bossk hissed at him. "Is that supposed to intimidate me? Impress me?" Garak smiled and shook his head. "I'm the head of the Obsidian Order, Mr. Bossk; neither of those has any effect on me." Carefully, in full view of Bossk's one good eye, Garak picked up a long needle with a pair of pliers, then slowly played them across a plasma torch. His eyes flicked up to Bossk, and his smile deepened. "Pride before pain... some would find that heroic, but I see it for the stupidity it is. You can surrender or make me break you, but the result is inevitable."
Bossk snarled at him. "I will tell you what I know," he spat.
"Good," Garak said setting down the plasma torch. "Let's start with your ship."
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The Rebel base's main conference room was filled with high-ranking officers from Cardassia and Romulus. The New Alliance was planning its first major assault against the Empire, and it was agreed that a thorough understanding of their enemy was going to be the key to victory. Luke Skywalker sat in the back of the room while Tycho Celchu took center stage. Wedge was head of fighter tactics but had wisely passed things over to Tycho for this meeting. As a former Imperial pilot, Tycho could give a very solid briefing and answer questions that would have been beyond Wedge's own experiences.
Tycho was all business, he got down to laying out the strengths and weaknesses of the Imperator. There was an interruption by a Romulan officer. "We know all this," he said with mild annoyance. "What's your point?"
"That you're outgunned and outclassed," Tycho said frankly. "So you're going to have to change your strategy if you want to win this war."
"We are."
"With all due respect," Tycho said, "if that were true I wouldn't be here."
A very uncomfortable silence followed. "Commander Celchu is correct," Admiral Riklin eventually said. "I suggest we all listen to him." He stared at the officer who had spoken up for a short while, then turned back to Tycho. "Please continue."
Tycho laid out further details about means of attacks. Luke nodded; he was holding up rather well under the weight of all this brass. "We have word there are two Imperators patrolling in this system," Tycho said, indicating the location on the holographic star map. "They're accompanied by three K't'inga and two Vor'chas. This will be our first target; we'll be employing eight Galors, ten D'deridex, two squadrons of X-wings, a squadron of B-wings, and twenty T'lix." There was a great deal of talk at the last point. "Admiral," Tycho said to Riklin, "perhaps you'd like to explain."
Riklin arose and came to the front. "We've retrofitted several shuttles with improved sub-light engines while increasing power to disruptors and torpedo capacity. The T'lix is unfortunately no longer able to achieve warp, although with the influx of hyperdrive technology that is hardly a need for concern." A diagram appeared. "They will attach to a D'deridex using weak gravitational clamps to enter and leave battle."
"These are to counteract the Imperial fighters, sir?" a Romulan officer asked.
"No, that's what our fighter squadrons will be for. The T'lix will be charged with targeting the sensor domes to limit the Imperials' ability to fight us. After that, they'll go after targets of opportunity."
"But maneuverability is key," Tycho said. "You won't be able to survive any hits from the turbolasers."
Riklin laid out more of the mission details as Leia came in. "Luke," she whispered, "we need to talk." Luke got up and slipped out of the room. "We've got a dangerous but potentially invaluable opportunity," she explained. "I don't know if you heard, but the Death Star has been completed and is in this galaxy."
"Yeah, I heard," Luke said grimly. Like many he'd been wondering if it was a fatal mistake in not taking it down when there was an opportunity.
"One of our agents has access to the plans for the new Death Star," Leia said. "But the Empire is being very careful; they can't get them to us because of how tightly their personnel are being watched here in the Milky Way."
"Can't someone back home find them?" Luke asked.
"For all we know they have it," Leia said. "But we have no way of getting there to find out, not with the wormhole being so heavily guarded. With the Death Star here, we need to do whatever we have to to get those plans."
"I understand," Luke said. "What's the plan?"
"The Empire has suddenly taken an interest in this thing called Tsunkatse," Leia said. "This came down from Thrawn himself, so whatever it is is important. With all this traffic -sending Imperial forces all around the sector- they should be able to sneak the plans into one of the arenas... but there's still a chance of being caught."
"You want me to get the plans," Luke said.
"It's very dangerous," she said nervously. "But you know how important those plans could be for us. You are the best hope we have of getting the plans and getting out of there alive."
"I'll do it," he said without hesitation.
"Luke, think carefully," Leia said. "I'm not overplaying this... Thrawn is very clever, this may be a trap."
"Maybe, but the bait is worth it," Luke said. "Without the plans for the last one, we'd never have lasted this long. I'll go."
Leia embraced him. "Be careful."
"Of course," Luke said. "When is it going down?"
"Two days," Leia said. "We picked a match that's going to be as full of people as possible, to make it easier for you two to slip in and out." She looked at a datapad. "It's a battle to the death between a Wookiee and a Borg."
"Sounds like fun," Luke said dryly. "I guess I better hope I'm not in a match of my own against a few hundred stormtroopers."
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The Hound's Tooth settled onto a Romulan landing pad; a small battalion of troops was waiting for it. Weapons were held at the ready as the ramp opened. Garak cautiously walked down, hands in plain site. A squad broke off and met him, scanning him. The corporal nodded; "He checks out, sir."
The Romulan general stepped forward. "You've taken a hell of a risk, Mr. Garak," he said sternly.
"My apologies," Garak said. "I rather thought the war was our top-most priority." He held out a data chip. "On here you'll find a list of Federation, Imperial, and Klingon ship deployments across the area."
The Romulan general took it with suspicion. "Where did you get this?"
"I created it, of course," Garak said. "This is a bounty hunter ship hired by the Empire; they're not going to be surprised that it's flying around the area." He smiled, but it had no humor in it. "Things are dire, I'm afraid; that's why I came here instead of Cardassia. The Federation and the Empire are gearing up for an attack on Cardassia Prime itself. We have to get this information to the New Alliance personnel as quickly as possible. I'd have taken it there myself, but I didn't want to risk the chance the Imperials were tracking this ship."
The general nodded grimly. "We have a few hyperdive-equipped transports," he said. "You'll be on one within the hour."
"Thank you general."
"Thank you, Mr. Garak," the general said. "This knowledge will be invaluable."
"I only hope it's enough to spare Cardassia from being razed again," Garak said. "If it is, I don't know if we can rebuild it again.
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Picard sat down at the head of the meeting table, his anxiety visible to the crew. He had grown so tired of these briefings, so tired of being the bearer of sad news. He hoped, hoped with all his heart, that this war would end quickly. Unfortunately, that seemed less likely now than ever. "At approximately 1500 hours yesterday an Imperial-Klingon force was moving on routine patrol through Sector 592 when it was attacked and destroyed. The attacking fleet consisted of Romulans, Cardassians, and a group of ships identified by the Imperial ships as being 'rebels.'"
Riker's eyes widened. "So we've confirmed the Rebellion's in our galaxy now?"
Picard nodded. "It looks that way. The fleet had the Imperials and Klingons hopelessly outnumbered and destroyed them all. This, as you are aware, marks the first clear victory for the Romulans in this war. While the rebels' ships did not play a large part in this attack, the battle showed a completely new set of tactics being used, which suggests that they have briefed their new friends in Imperial weaknesses." He sighed. "The Federation has declared that a state of war exists between the United Federation of Planets and the Rebel Alliance."
There were several shocked looks around the room. "What about the Prime Directive?" Troi asked. "We can't become involved with an internal group engaged in open revolt against another a government, even one of our allies."
"That fact was considered, but Ambassador Talva was apparently very convincing." It pained him greatly to have to be delivering such news; the Prime Directive wasn't something that could be ignored when it becomes inconvenient, it was the heart of their principles... and every day, it seemed those principles were becoming less and less important. "Regardless, we must be prepared for a revitalized enemy, one who may be crossing our borders at any moment. We'll be remaining here at Earth to have further modifications made to the Enterprise. While we're here, Data, Admiral Parks has requested that you brief the Imperials on the known current level of both Romulan and Cardassian technology."
Data looked slightly puzzled. "Captain, there are no doubt others in Starfleet who have information that is far more up to date than I possess."
"Admiral Parks says that the Empire wants you to do it. You'll be given access to the latest intelligence data for your briefing; but your real value is sheer volume of information. It is felt that you are the most suited for this mission."
Data nodded. "Aye sir. Since I have no other duties at the moment, it would be a logical allocation of Federation resources." There was no bitterness in his tone, but Picard wondered if that was because he'd kept his emotion chip off.
As the crew filed out Picard motioned to Riker, who with a curious look returned to his seat. Picard sighed and leaned his forehead against his folded hands, his eyes closed almost as if in prayer. His muffled voice reached his first officer's bewildered ears. "How are the simulations going?"
"Fine, sir. Everyone seems to be in peak performance." There was quiet. "Is this about Seven of Nine, sir?"
"No," Picard said. "How has your performance been, Will?" Picard asked slowly.
Riker didn't know quite how to reply. "I'm not sure I understand. Has there been a problem, sir?"
Picard finally met Riker's gaze. "With you, no. With the universe, most definitely a yes." He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the stars. "I've been thinking, Will. There's a bold new future on the horizon, if we can get to it. Unfortunately, there's a nasty war that stands between here and there. A war built on mistakes and prejudices of the past. And of old men."
"Sir?"
Picard turned to face him, his face deadly serious. "I've considered stepping down, Will. Turning this war over to those with the strength to see it through." He walked slowly around the table, almost thinking aloud. "There's been too much bloodshed. Too many good officers, men and women that I've had to watch die. Too much pointless destruction." He stopped, his face fixed with a look of determination. "Next to the Borg invasion, I don't think the Federation has ever been as threatened as it is right now. We are at the heart of a conflict involving two galaxies, Will, and it's time for those with the will to see us through to step up."
Riker rose to his feet and met Picard's gaze. "Sir, I think there is no one to better lead us than the man who has stood in command of a ship called Enterprise for the past ten years." He smiled a little. "You may be old, but with that age comes wisdom and experience, which is what we'll need to pull through."
"The mind may be equipped," Picard replied, "but the spirit isn't, not any more. Battle isn't just about tactics and weaponry; it's about passion and gut instinct, and I'm afraid that I've been in rather short supply of both of late." He sighed. "The things that weigh on my mind, Will, like Data..."
Riker filled in the blanks. "You leave, I become captain, Data gets promoted to first officer." He shook his head. "Captain, what happened with Data was a travesty, but leaving the Enterprise over it isn't going to truly solve anything."
"I set him up to fall, Will," Picard said. "And there's no soft place for him to land. He's too decent a person to take Seven's place, but-"
"Jean-luc," Riker said, "this isn't your fault."
"I know, but it's just one more thing that weighs on my mind, Will," Picard said.
"Give this some time," Riker said. "Don't rush into anything."
"I've thought about it a great deal, Will," Picard said.
"Give it a little more," Riker said. "Things are changing... maybe it'll come sooner than you think."
"Possibly... I'm just afraid of what that change will be."
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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Part XXVII
The Tsunkatse arena was a wholly unpleasant experience. It was loud, it smelled, the lights were too dim, and the number of minds filled with bloodlust turned Luke's stomach. And the match hadn't even begun yet. Still, he had to admit that it was a good place to fall into a crowd... he could spot a couple Imperial officers about. Apparently they were at most of the arenas, trying to triangulate the source of the broadcast. Looking for one rebel operative, especially here, was the furthest thing from their minds. He looked down into the arena itself as the sound came up for the participants to enter for the match. He had to at least pretend he was here for the fight, or else he'd look suspicious.
The door opened, and what Luke saw took his breath away. When Leia had said Borg, he'd been expecting a grey-skinned lumbering automaton covered in armor and inhuman devices. Instead the fighter was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen... there were cybernetics visible, but they did little to mar her. Her movements, rather than the mechanical gestures he'd been expecting, were natural, human. The crowd booed her, and her gaze flickered up at them without real interest. Despite the aloof manner, his heart went out to her; there was no way she was going to survive a match against a Wookiee, none. If she knew that, she was doing an impressive job of hiding her fears... while he obviously couldn't sense her emotions, her body language was one of resolve.
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7 of 9 stood her ground as the Wookiee entered the arena. He took in the cries of the crowd, shaking his arms in the air in adulation at the opportunity to show his prowess. 7 of 9 did nothing; her own concern was to survive, and since that required killing this hairy beast she focused on the most efficient means to accomplish that. She recognized it would not be simple, but it would happen. She was Borg.
The match began, and 7 of 9 remained where she was, waiting for him to come to her. With expected grandstanding he crossed the arena and swung; 7 of 9 ducked, grabbing the limb. Wookiees are tall, meaning high centers of gravity, while she was small, crouched, and very strong. The move was obvious as she pivoted and flipped him right over her and slammed him into the floor. She drove her foot repeatedly into his sternum, until he swung and knocked her aside. The two got up; the Wookiee charged, so 7 of 9 grabbed the upper surface of the arena and swung up, driving both feet into his face. She dropped back down to the floor and while he was still recovering from the blow, spun and kicked him in the side.
The Wookiee was mad now. This time there were no swings or strikes, he just moved in on her, blocking or just absorbing her blows. He grabbed hold of her arm, and 7 of 9 let out a cry of pain as he yanked it. She drew her other arm up and drove her elbow solidly into his groin. He let go of the arm, so she repeated the gesture for good measure. As he doubled-over she stepped back and whirled, kicking him on the side of the head, then spinning around and doing it again. He was weakened; pressing the advantage was the only logical move. He caught the leg, so she kicked up with the other, catching him under the chin. He dropped her flat on her back and tried to stomp on her chest. 7 of 9 rolled to the right a little as the foot came down, then grabbed the back of the ankle with her steel tipped fingers and dug into the tender flesh of the tendon, causing the Wookiee to roar in agony.
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Luke watched, dumbfounded. As the Wookiee staggered in pain, the Borg slipped through his legs and hopped up on his back, gouging one of his eyes as he let out a horrendous scream of agony. The crowd's position seemed to have changed a little; the Borg was fighting dirty, and that was always entertaining. But Luke could see that her technique was neither the bar room brawl tactics of scoundrels, nor the acts of fearful struggling. She carefully calculated the weak spots in her opponent's anatomy and attacked them without concern for any kind of sportsmanship. Of course, it was a fight to the death, but her mannerism never suggested it was done out of desperation, merely pragmatism. He tried grabbing her, but she dropped off and pounded his kidneys so hard he dropped to his knees, letting out a pitiful, whimpering growl. The Borg was unmoved; she grabbed his arm and heaved him up, dislocating the joint as she moved to throw him against the arena wall. Luke could only gape as he watched. Despite the initial impressions, it seemed the advertisements had been clear. She wasn't human, just a machine in human form. The Wookiee hit the wall with a sickening thud, and she looked up at the crowd, not with adulation, but simply as if to impress upon them how resistance would always be futile. She caught Luke's eyes and stared at him, and a chill ran up his spine.
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7 of 9 looked up at the Rebel; his appearance here was unexpected, but not noteworthy. It was evident by his expression that he was disturbed at what she'd been doing. It was irrelevant. She would do whatever was necessary, regardless of... regardless... She wanted to tear her eyes away, but couldn't. His look...
Seven looked down at the Wookiee, and shame filled her. "I am... I am sorry," she said. She turned to the overseer in his booth. "End this," she said.
"Kill him, and it will all be over," the overseer said.
"No," Seven said firmly. "I won't kill another being while you call it entertainment, no more."
"The match doesn't end until one of you are dead," the overseer said in his quiet, breathy tones. "Whether it's you or him is no concern of mine."
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The crowd was booing fiercely as the Borg asked whoever was running the match to end it. Luke started to reconsider... maybe she was human despite her Borg appearance. Maybe she was just following her instincts to try and stay alive, even if they were Borg instincts... you couldn't fault someone for that, could you? Regardless, she seemed to have changed now that she had the upper hand. A machine would have pushed the advantage and finished the Wookiee while the opportunity was there, but he was pulling himself to his feet and she still did nothing.
Luke felt something slide into his pocket as an Imperial officer bumped into him. He didn't look at it; if it was dangerous his instincts would have told him so, so it meant it was the Death Star plans they'd been looking for. He stayed anyway; besides the fact that leaving now would attract attention, he was curious to see how the match would end. He was hoping the Borg woman would survive, but she seemed to be holding herself back now. It was like before she was operating with all the mental brakes off, willing to exploit every weakness, unforgiving of even the slightest mistake, and uncaring of how much pain she inflicted. Now she was fighting defensively, just trying to stay ahead of him. No more strikes at weak spots, no more dirty moves, just basic survival at this point. He enhanced his sense of hearing, and he could hear her whispering, trying to convince the Wookiee to stop the fight.
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Delric Taar found Thrawn on the bridge of the Vendetta. "Admiral," he said, "we've located the Federation officer. She's on a ship that's broadcasting the match across the sector; I have the coordinates."
Thrawn took the datapad and examined it. "Impressive for this galaxy," he mused aloud as he looked at the ship. "Even moreso that it's a privately-owned vessel." He examined the rotating image of the ship. "A man builds something like this, he's not inclined to look for diplomatic solutions... he enjoys a fight, especially winning one. Watching the combatants, knowing that he has control over their fates, gives him a sense of power as well." He handed the datapad back to Taar. "Captain, the major has coordinates for our new destination, take us there immediately." Captain Jarrol nodded and saw to it at once. "Let's teach this creature a thing or two about power, shall we major?"
Taar couldn't help but smile. After chasing around the sector, to knock these Tsunkatse people back in their place was going to be most satisfying. "Yes sir, admiral."
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Seven dropped under a vicious swing, keeping light on her feet, then dropped under the next. The Wookiee roared at her and tried again. She ducked, then spun around and put her foot into his stomach, knocking him over backwards. She put some more distance between him and her, still staying alert. She didn't know how long she could keep this up, but the only alternative was to kill him, and she refused to do it. She was human... she would not resort to something inhuman to resolve this.
The Wookiee got back to its feet, and charged at her. Seven stayed loose, trying to avoid his blows. She tried another kick, but it proved a mistake. He caught her leg, picked her up by it, and slammed her into the floor, much to the delight of the crowd. He whirled and tossed her straight across the arena into the opposing wall, lumbering after her even as she landed. Desperate, she dove face first into his torso and heaved, tossing him over her head in the galaxy's worse judo throw ever. She whirled around, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to clear her head for the next attack. A couple more hits like that, and they'd be scraping Borg nanoprobes off the walls.
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The Vendetta dropped out of hyperspace right on top of the Tsunkatse ship. No escort was brought; nineteen kilometers of warship is usually intimidation enough. "Tractor beam," Thrawn said. "Just so they don't entertain any ideas of escape." Captain Jarrol nodded that it was in their grip. "I will speak to them," he said, stepping over to the comm station. An image of the Tsunkatse overseer appeared. "Greetings," Thrawn said. "I'm Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Galactic Empire, this is my ship, and I trust I now have your full attention."
"You do indeed command a powerful vessel, admiral," the overseer said, and he seemed somewhat pleased by that fact... it was almost an eerie sort of enjoyment.
"You have a Borg fighting in your arena," Thrawn said. "She's an officer of the Federation, our ally, and thus under our protection. You will release her and any other Federation personnel immediately."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, admiral," the overseer said. "The fight is not finished yet."
"Yes, it is," Thrawn said. "Terminate it."
"Or what?" the overseer said with a somewhat pleased expression. "You'll destroy us? Kill her instead? This way there's a chance you can have her back. Good day." He cut the signal.
Thrawn looked over at Captain Jarrol and back at the blank screen. "The man is either the best sabacc player in the galaxy, or he's completely insane."
"Orders sir?" Jarrol asked.
Thrawn considered. "He's right, we dare not risk opening fire and killing her. Picard will make trouble, which will not please the Emperor at all. Fortunately, there are always alternatives. Retrieve her, captain; I have my own Borg to worry about."
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The Wookiee gave her a vicious backhand, and Seven flew across the arena and hit the opposite wall. She slid down, her vision blurring as the Wookiee approached. He was wearing her down... apparently he had nothing holding him back from killing her. You're going to die, a part of her said. And it's because you let emotions rule you... it makes you small.
Seven swallowed as the Wookiee towered over her. No, she thought, it makes me human.
The sound of a blaster rifle drowned out the crowd, and the Wookiee staggered. Two more shots, and it collapsed, revealing a squad of Imperial stormtroopers. They quickly crossed the arena, one of them looking her over while the others provided cover. "Target acquired," the trooper reported. "Have medical assistance standing by."
The arena was flickering, but she looked up and spotted the Rebel; he was staring back. He smiled a little and nodded; he approved of what she'd done. Surprisingly, that meant a great deal to her.
"Lieutenant," the trooper said, "come with us please. We'll be returning you to the Enterprise as soon as you're recovered." She was pulled to her feet and led out of the Tsunkatse ring for the final time.
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In the chaos that followed the end of the match, slipping back out to his ship and getting off planet proved no problem. Luke settled back as he activated the nav computer and slipped into hyperspace. He put the Death Star plans in the safety of the storage locker, and reflected on what had happened. Enterprise was a Federation ship, he knew that... "Artoo," he said, and the droid dutifully warbled in response. "Send a message to Captain Price. I'd like to learn a little bit more about a Borg lieutenant serving on board the Enterprise." Artoo gave a confused sort of buzz. "I'm just curious," Luke said, patting the droids dome. "It's not every woman that can go toe-to-toe with a Wookiee and live to talk about it."
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Captain Picard was in Cargo Bay 2 when the shuttle dropped Travis and Seven of Nine off. Dr. Crusher stood nearby, just to ensure that their injuries didn't require further treatment. Greetings were pleasant, then as Crusher began looking Travis over, Picard took Seven's arm and led her aside. "How are you doing?" he asked gravely. He tapped the side of his head. "Up here."
Seven had trouble speaking the words. "I killed, captain. I killed for the entertainment of others." She couldn't look him in the face. "I failed to live up to what you taught me... I'm sorry."
Picard put his arm around her. "I heard about why you went into that arena," he said, leading her further away from the others. "You saved Lt. Travis' life, you realize that, yes?"
"Yes," Seven said. "You also taught me that the ends do not justify the means."
Now it was Picard's turn to stumble for the words. "Yes, that's true. I'm glad to hear you've taken that to heart. But when one is forced into a situation where neither choice is moral, sometimes we are forced to do something abhorrent to us, something we'd never wish to do. Killing that fighter was wrong, Seven," Picard said, "but I will tell you without hesitation that in your situation I would have done exactly as you did."
Seven still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Thank you, captain," she said. "I am... Your opinion matters a great deal to me, captain. I was afraid that I would prove a disappointment to you."
"Seven," Picard said, "under those Borg implants, you are as human as the rest of us... and that means that you will make mistakes from time to time. As your captain, it's my duty to call you on them... but as your friend, I'll never judge you for them."
Crusher and Travis watched the two converse. "Doctor," Travis said, "I think you should have Counselor Troi talk with Seven."
"You think the situation affected her, emotionally?"
"No," Travis said. "I think the exact opposite."
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The door chimed. "Come in," Troi said. Seven entered, looking as thrilled to be there as she'd expected. "Why don't you take a seat?" Troi offered, gesturing to a chair. "I know you normally prefer standing, but you'll give me neck strain if you don't," she said with a smile.
Seven took the seat. "Dr. Crusher informed me that I should speak with you about my experiences."
"Yes." She could see Seven wasn't very forthcoming. "How are you feeling now?"
"Sad... angry." Nothing more was offered.
"How would you describe what happened?" Seven began recounting the events of their capture. "I meant, how would you describe how it felt."
"I do not understand," Seven said.
Troi thought about it a moment. "Seven, someone forced you into the position of having to either kill someone, or allow you and Lt. Travis to die. How does that make you feel?"
"Angry," Seven said. "And helpless... the situation allowed for no visible alternatives; I found it frustrating that I could find no other way to resolve this problem."
"There wasn't one," Troi said tenderly. "You were forced to make a very difficult and unpleasant choice, and what's worse is you were then forced to carry it out. But it wasn't your fault, Seven."
"I am Borg," Seven said, looking down. "I possess superior intellect. I should have found a way to avoid killing him."
"Seven," Troi said, leaning forward and folding her hands, "tell me... how did it feel to kill him." Seven covered her face; Troi could feel she was filled with anger and guilt. "How did it feel?" she asked again.
"Nothing," Seven said. "I killed him, and I felt nothing." She was visibly trying to control herself. "No emotion at all, Counselor... despite what you all say, I am, and always will be, Borg."
The Tsunkatse arena was a wholly unpleasant experience. It was loud, it smelled, the lights were too dim, and the number of minds filled with bloodlust turned Luke's stomach. And the match hadn't even begun yet. Still, he had to admit that it was a good place to fall into a crowd... he could spot a couple Imperial officers about. Apparently they were at most of the arenas, trying to triangulate the source of the broadcast. Looking for one rebel operative, especially here, was the furthest thing from their minds. He looked down into the arena itself as the sound came up for the participants to enter for the match. He had to at least pretend he was here for the fight, or else he'd look suspicious.
The door opened, and what Luke saw took his breath away. When Leia had said Borg, he'd been expecting a grey-skinned lumbering automaton covered in armor and inhuman devices. Instead the fighter was possibly the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen... there were cybernetics visible, but they did little to mar her. Her movements, rather than the mechanical gestures he'd been expecting, were natural, human. The crowd booed her, and her gaze flickered up at them without real interest. Despite the aloof manner, his heart went out to her; there was no way she was going to survive a match against a Wookiee, none. If she knew that, she was doing an impressive job of hiding her fears... while he obviously couldn't sense her emotions, her body language was one of resolve.
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7 of 9 stood her ground as the Wookiee entered the arena. He took in the cries of the crowd, shaking his arms in the air in adulation at the opportunity to show his prowess. 7 of 9 did nothing; her own concern was to survive, and since that required killing this hairy beast she focused on the most efficient means to accomplish that. She recognized it would not be simple, but it would happen. She was Borg.
The match began, and 7 of 9 remained where she was, waiting for him to come to her. With expected grandstanding he crossed the arena and swung; 7 of 9 ducked, grabbing the limb. Wookiees are tall, meaning high centers of gravity, while she was small, crouched, and very strong. The move was obvious as she pivoted and flipped him right over her and slammed him into the floor. She drove her foot repeatedly into his sternum, until he swung and knocked her aside. The two got up; the Wookiee charged, so 7 of 9 grabbed the upper surface of the arena and swung up, driving both feet into his face. She dropped back down to the floor and while he was still recovering from the blow, spun and kicked him in the side.
The Wookiee was mad now. This time there were no swings or strikes, he just moved in on her, blocking or just absorbing her blows. He grabbed hold of her arm, and 7 of 9 let out a cry of pain as he yanked it. She drew her other arm up and drove her elbow solidly into his groin. He let go of the arm, so she repeated the gesture for good measure. As he doubled-over she stepped back and whirled, kicking him on the side of the head, then spinning around and doing it again. He was weakened; pressing the advantage was the only logical move. He caught the leg, so she kicked up with the other, catching him under the chin. He dropped her flat on her back and tried to stomp on her chest. 7 of 9 rolled to the right a little as the foot came down, then grabbed the back of the ankle with her steel tipped fingers and dug into the tender flesh of the tendon, causing the Wookiee to roar in agony.
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Luke watched, dumbfounded. As the Wookiee staggered in pain, the Borg slipped through his legs and hopped up on his back, gouging one of his eyes as he let out a horrendous scream of agony. The crowd's position seemed to have changed a little; the Borg was fighting dirty, and that was always entertaining. But Luke could see that her technique was neither the bar room brawl tactics of scoundrels, nor the acts of fearful struggling. She carefully calculated the weak spots in her opponent's anatomy and attacked them without concern for any kind of sportsmanship. Of course, it was a fight to the death, but her mannerism never suggested it was done out of desperation, merely pragmatism. He tried grabbing her, but she dropped off and pounded his kidneys so hard he dropped to his knees, letting out a pitiful, whimpering growl. The Borg was unmoved; she grabbed his arm and heaved him up, dislocating the joint as she moved to throw him against the arena wall. Luke could only gape as he watched. Despite the initial impressions, it seemed the advertisements had been clear. She wasn't human, just a machine in human form. The Wookiee hit the wall with a sickening thud, and she looked up at the crowd, not with adulation, but simply as if to impress upon them how resistance would always be futile. She caught Luke's eyes and stared at him, and a chill ran up his spine.
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7 of 9 looked up at the Rebel; his appearance here was unexpected, but not noteworthy. It was evident by his expression that he was disturbed at what she'd been doing. It was irrelevant. She would do whatever was necessary, regardless of... regardless... She wanted to tear her eyes away, but couldn't. His look...
Seven looked down at the Wookiee, and shame filled her. "I am... I am sorry," she said. She turned to the overseer in his booth. "End this," she said.
"Kill him, and it will all be over," the overseer said.
"No," Seven said firmly. "I won't kill another being while you call it entertainment, no more."
"The match doesn't end until one of you are dead," the overseer said in his quiet, breathy tones. "Whether it's you or him is no concern of mine."
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The crowd was booing fiercely as the Borg asked whoever was running the match to end it. Luke started to reconsider... maybe she was human despite her Borg appearance. Maybe she was just following her instincts to try and stay alive, even if they were Borg instincts... you couldn't fault someone for that, could you? Regardless, she seemed to have changed now that she had the upper hand. A machine would have pushed the advantage and finished the Wookiee while the opportunity was there, but he was pulling himself to his feet and she still did nothing.
Luke felt something slide into his pocket as an Imperial officer bumped into him. He didn't look at it; if it was dangerous his instincts would have told him so, so it meant it was the Death Star plans they'd been looking for. He stayed anyway; besides the fact that leaving now would attract attention, he was curious to see how the match would end. He was hoping the Borg woman would survive, but she seemed to be holding herself back now. It was like before she was operating with all the mental brakes off, willing to exploit every weakness, unforgiving of even the slightest mistake, and uncaring of how much pain she inflicted. Now she was fighting defensively, just trying to stay ahead of him. No more strikes at weak spots, no more dirty moves, just basic survival at this point. He enhanced his sense of hearing, and he could hear her whispering, trying to convince the Wookiee to stop the fight.
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Delric Taar found Thrawn on the bridge of the Vendetta. "Admiral," he said, "we've located the Federation officer. She's on a ship that's broadcasting the match across the sector; I have the coordinates."
Thrawn took the datapad and examined it. "Impressive for this galaxy," he mused aloud as he looked at the ship. "Even moreso that it's a privately-owned vessel." He examined the rotating image of the ship. "A man builds something like this, he's not inclined to look for diplomatic solutions... he enjoys a fight, especially winning one. Watching the combatants, knowing that he has control over their fates, gives him a sense of power as well." He handed the datapad back to Taar. "Captain, the major has coordinates for our new destination, take us there immediately." Captain Jarrol nodded and saw to it at once. "Let's teach this creature a thing or two about power, shall we major?"
Taar couldn't help but smile. After chasing around the sector, to knock these Tsunkatse people back in their place was going to be most satisfying. "Yes sir, admiral."
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Seven dropped under a vicious swing, keeping light on her feet, then dropped under the next. The Wookiee roared at her and tried again. She ducked, then spun around and put her foot into his stomach, knocking him over backwards. She put some more distance between him and her, still staying alert. She didn't know how long she could keep this up, but the only alternative was to kill him, and she refused to do it. She was human... she would not resort to something inhuman to resolve this.
The Wookiee got back to its feet, and charged at her. Seven stayed loose, trying to avoid his blows. She tried another kick, but it proved a mistake. He caught her leg, picked her up by it, and slammed her into the floor, much to the delight of the crowd. He whirled and tossed her straight across the arena into the opposing wall, lumbering after her even as she landed. Desperate, she dove face first into his torso and heaved, tossing him over her head in the galaxy's worse judo throw ever. She whirled around, taking advantage of the momentary distraction to clear her head for the next attack. A couple more hits like that, and they'd be scraping Borg nanoprobes off the walls.
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The Vendetta dropped out of hyperspace right on top of the Tsunkatse ship. No escort was brought; nineteen kilometers of warship is usually intimidation enough. "Tractor beam," Thrawn said. "Just so they don't entertain any ideas of escape." Captain Jarrol nodded that it was in their grip. "I will speak to them," he said, stepping over to the comm station. An image of the Tsunkatse overseer appeared. "Greetings," Thrawn said. "I'm Grand Admiral Thrawn of the Galactic Empire, this is my ship, and I trust I now have your full attention."
"You do indeed command a powerful vessel, admiral," the overseer said, and he seemed somewhat pleased by that fact... it was almost an eerie sort of enjoyment.
"You have a Borg fighting in your arena," Thrawn said. "She's an officer of the Federation, our ally, and thus under our protection. You will release her and any other Federation personnel immediately."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, admiral," the overseer said. "The fight is not finished yet."
"Yes, it is," Thrawn said. "Terminate it."
"Or what?" the overseer said with a somewhat pleased expression. "You'll destroy us? Kill her instead? This way there's a chance you can have her back. Good day." He cut the signal.
Thrawn looked over at Captain Jarrol and back at the blank screen. "The man is either the best sabacc player in the galaxy, or he's completely insane."
"Orders sir?" Jarrol asked.
Thrawn considered. "He's right, we dare not risk opening fire and killing her. Picard will make trouble, which will not please the Emperor at all. Fortunately, there are always alternatives. Retrieve her, captain; I have my own Borg to worry about."
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The Wookiee gave her a vicious backhand, and Seven flew across the arena and hit the opposite wall. She slid down, her vision blurring as the Wookiee approached. He was wearing her down... apparently he had nothing holding him back from killing her. You're going to die, a part of her said. And it's because you let emotions rule you... it makes you small.
Seven swallowed as the Wookiee towered over her. No, she thought, it makes me human.
The sound of a blaster rifle drowned out the crowd, and the Wookiee staggered. Two more shots, and it collapsed, revealing a squad of Imperial stormtroopers. They quickly crossed the arena, one of them looking her over while the others provided cover. "Target acquired," the trooper reported. "Have medical assistance standing by."
The arena was flickering, but she looked up and spotted the Rebel; he was staring back. He smiled a little and nodded; he approved of what she'd done. Surprisingly, that meant a great deal to her.
"Lieutenant," the trooper said, "come with us please. We'll be returning you to the Enterprise as soon as you're recovered." She was pulled to her feet and led out of the Tsunkatse ring for the final time.
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In the chaos that followed the end of the match, slipping back out to his ship and getting off planet proved no problem. Luke settled back as he activated the nav computer and slipped into hyperspace. He put the Death Star plans in the safety of the storage locker, and reflected on what had happened. Enterprise was a Federation ship, he knew that... "Artoo," he said, and the droid dutifully warbled in response. "Send a message to Captain Price. I'd like to learn a little bit more about a Borg lieutenant serving on board the Enterprise." Artoo gave a confused sort of buzz. "I'm just curious," Luke said, patting the droids dome. "It's not every woman that can go toe-to-toe with a Wookiee and live to talk about it."
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Captain Picard was in Cargo Bay 2 when the shuttle dropped Travis and Seven of Nine off. Dr. Crusher stood nearby, just to ensure that their injuries didn't require further treatment. Greetings were pleasant, then as Crusher began looking Travis over, Picard took Seven's arm and led her aside. "How are you doing?" he asked gravely. He tapped the side of his head. "Up here."
Seven had trouble speaking the words. "I killed, captain. I killed for the entertainment of others." She couldn't look him in the face. "I failed to live up to what you taught me... I'm sorry."
Picard put his arm around her. "I heard about why you went into that arena," he said, leading her further away from the others. "You saved Lt. Travis' life, you realize that, yes?"
"Yes," Seven said. "You also taught me that the ends do not justify the means."
Now it was Picard's turn to stumble for the words. "Yes, that's true. I'm glad to hear you've taken that to heart. But when one is forced into a situation where neither choice is moral, sometimes we are forced to do something abhorrent to us, something we'd never wish to do. Killing that fighter was wrong, Seven," Picard said, "but I will tell you without hesitation that in your situation I would have done exactly as you did."
Seven still couldn't bring herself to look at him. "Thank you, captain," she said. "I am... Your opinion matters a great deal to me, captain. I was afraid that I would prove a disappointment to you."
"Seven," Picard said, "under those Borg implants, you are as human as the rest of us... and that means that you will make mistakes from time to time. As your captain, it's my duty to call you on them... but as your friend, I'll never judge you for them."
Crusher and Travis watched the two converse. "Doctor," Travis said, "I think you should have Counselor Troi talk with Seven."
"You think the situation affected her, emotionally?"
"No," Travis said. "I think the exact opposite."
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The door chimed. "Come in," Troi said. Seven entered, looking as thrilled to be there as she'd expected. "Why don't you take a seat?" Troi offered, gesturing to a chair. "I know you normally prefer standing, but you'll give me neck strain if you don't," she said with a smile.
Seven took the seat. "Dr. Crusher informed me that I should speak with you about my experiences."
"Yes." She could see Seven wasn't very forthcoming. "How are you feeling now?"
"Sad... angry." Nothing more was offered.
"How would you describe what happened?" Seven began recounting the events of their capture. "I meant, how would you describe how it felt."
"I do not understand," Seven said.
Troi thought about it a moment. "Seven, someone forced you into the position of having to either kill someone, or allow you and Lt. Travis to die. How does that make you feel?"
"Angry," Seven said. "And helpless... the situation allowed for no visible alternatives; I found it frustrating that I could find no other way to resolve this problem."
"There wasn't one," Troi said tenderly. "You were forced to make a very difficult and unpleasant choice, and what's worse is you were then forced to carry it out. But it wasn't your fault, Seven."
"I am Borg," Seven said, looking down. "I possess superior intellect. I should have found a way to avoid killing him."
"Seven," Troi said, leaning forward and folding her hands, "tell me... how did it feel to kill him." Seven covered her face; Troi could feel she was filled with anger and guilt. "How did it feel?" she asked again.
"Nothing," Seven said. "I killed him, and I felt nothing." She was visibly trying to control herself. "No emotion at all, Counselor... despite what you all say, I am, and always will be, Borg."
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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Part XXVIII
Moff Jerjerrod and his closest aides remained on one knee as the shuttle door opened. Down the ramp, ever so slowly, came the hunched form of Emperor Palpatine. He signaled Jerjerrod to rise, who quickly did so and came into step just behind the Emperor.
"How goes Thrawn's operation?" the Emperor asked as they passed row upon row of stormtroopers at full attention.
"Eighty-three Borg worlds destroyed sir," Jerjerrod quickly replied. The Death Star had been employed as part of a shakedown, far from the eyes of the galaxy. After the destruction of the last Death Star, the Emperor had insisted they make certain all possible problems were worked out before it was revealed. "There was little resistance from the Borg; they seem to see the wisdom of staying out of our way."
"Very well," the Emperor replied, dismissing the Moff's answer. "The Borg are no longer your concern."
"Yes, your excellency," Jerjerrod replied, happy to hear the words. He'd had just about enough chasing the alien cyborgs around the Milky Way, and having to do so at the beck and call of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
"Set your course for the alpha quadrant," the Emperor said. "We have a small rebellion to deal with... and it is high time these pitiful backwater systems learned the true power of the Empire."
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Seven was at work in Science Lab 1 when Data arrived. "I did not have the opportunity to welcome you back upon arrival," Data said. "I am relieved you are all right."
"Thank you, Data," she said. She hesitated. "I was informed about your review. I am sorry Starfleet did not recognize what you can contribute."
"I must admit continued disappointment," Data said. "But since that will not alter the outcome I am endeavoring to focus on other tasks."
Seven was uncomfortable, unsure of how to proceed. "I was informed that you refused to return to your previous position."
"Yes," Data said.
"To protect my career."
"Yes. As the only android in Starfleet, I have encountered many obstacles in my career, despite my successes. As the only Borg in Starfleet, it is conceivable you may face similar ones. I would not wish to have you suffer the same misfortunes I have."
"I am... grateful," Seven said. "And humbled by your generosity."
"You are my friend, Seven," Data said. "I could not forgive myself if I harmed you in any way if it could be avoided." He held out a PADD. "While you were gone I began an investigation into the rebel from the prison. I have discovered his identity."
Seven took the PADD. "Who is he?"
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"Commander Skywalker!"
Luke paused and turned, catching sight of one of the officers from the Overlord. He stopped as she quickly rushed through the base. "Yes, ensign?" he asked.
"The captain said you were interested in the Federation officer at the Tsunkatse match," the ensign said. "She had one of our contacts get a copy of her file for you to look over."
Luke took the PADD. "Thank you," he said. The ensign nodded and went on her way while Luke switched on the PADD.
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"Commander Luke Skywalker," Seven read aloud.
"Lieutenant Seven of Nine," Luke said as he looked at the PADD.
"No record of any biological parents," Seven said.
"Was assimilated by the Borg at a young age," Luke said. "Spent most of her existence as a Borg drone."
"Was raised by his aunt and uncle," Seven said. "They died in a tragic accident."
"The whereabouts of her parents remain unknown," Luke said.
"He has no known relations," Seven continued.
"No family," Luke said with a shake of his head. "Took an interest in Starfleet after removal from the Collective."
"Joined the Rebellion after his family perished," Seven said. "Devotion to the cause was absolute."
"She has been unwavering in her dedication to duty," Luke said.
"Despite his lack of formal training, he was given a commission and rose to a position of authority."
"In a rare exception to protocol, she was given a commission without attending Starfleet Academy, and is now serving as a senior officer on the Federation flagship."
"He possesses superhuman combat skills and is considered extremely dangerous."
"She possesses Borg enhancements to her physiology that put her strength and agility beyond the range of any human being."
"Shows an unusual attachment to his droids."
"Tends to be more forthcoming with artificial intelligences -holograms and androids- than her humanoid colleagues."
"Skywalker refused Lord Vader's personal invitation to join the Empire."
"Seven of Nine resisted all efforts by the Borg Queen to return her to the Collective."
"No romantic attachments," they said.
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"Intriguing, is it not?" Data asked as Seven continued looking through the Imperial file on Skywalker
"Yes," she said distantly. "Broke into a maximum security station and freed a captive. Devised advanced aerial speeder tactics. Destroyed a heavily-armored personnel transport on foot. Wiped out a criminal organization with only a handful of support personnel. Killed a ten-meter tall monster while unarmed. Single-handedly destroyed a gigantic battlestation."
"It is a most unique career," Data said. Seven nodded. "Am I to ascertain from your behavior that you still have some form of attraction towards this individual?"
Seven looked uncertain as she lowered the PADD. "I am unsure of how to describe the way I feel, Data. This individual is amazing, his accomplishments staggering. I am... intimidated by the breadth of his talents."
"I feel you are doing yourself an injustice, Seven," Data said. "Your own talents are impressive."
"They do not feel that way," Seven said. "And in the wake of my experience with the Tsunkatse, I feel even more of an inadequate human being."
Data shook his head. "I agree with the captain; you did what the situation required. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"When he looked at me," Seven said, "when I was fighting the Wookiee... I felt ashamed of myself."
"You sought his approval?"
Seven hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "And the expression on his face said he did not. I do not understand this, Data. He is only words in a file and images on a screen, but I cannot help but think about him." She put the PADD down. "Yet I know that these feelings cannot be taken to their logical conclusion, that this effort is doomed from the start. And I... I recognize in myself that I would likely be too frightened to speak to him beyond what my duties required."
"Perhaps you should discuss this matter with Counselor Troi-"
"No," Seven said emphatically. "She is a human, I have observed their behavior. She would encourage this kind of thinking."
"And you feel it should not be encouraged?"
"As I said, taking this to its logical conclusion, I know that I could never become involved with this individual." She looked at the PADD, still lying there on the table. "Even if he and I were on the same side in this conflict, he is beyond my reach. All the councilor would do would encourage me to continue my irrational interest in this individual, or attempt to redirect me towards an achievable target. Neither of those is acceptable."
"Then I am afraid I can provide no further advice, Seven, as this goes beyond my own experiences."
"I know," Seven said. "But the mere act of discussion has helped, and for that I thank you."
"You are quite welcome," Data said. "Have you decided how you will proceed?"
"The only logical way, I will endeavor to not think about him."
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After the celebrations had died down throughout the New Alliance, reality, as it usually does, came crashing in to ruin the party. The victory was an unbridled success, establishing not only the effectiveness of the New Alliance, and thereby improving the declining morale of late, but also gave a good chance to field test the new T'lix ships. Only a small number, eighty-two in all, had been refitted before the battle; with this success General Riklin was able to get permission to retrofit entire fleets of the ships for the war effort. And losses had been minimal for their side - two D'deridex, six Galors, six T'lix, and five from the X- or B-wing fighter squadrons.
The first unified blow was a success, and that brought her almost as much joy as the safe return of Luke. She had to admit, she'd almost didn't tell him about the mission, such was her fear of a trap, but it looks like it all worked out. The Death Star plans were being given a thorough examination; hopefully, someone could figure out a way to stop it before another Alderaan came.
All that good news, however, was soon overshadowed. Elim Garak had arrived with information on a combined Federation-Imperial fleet that was preparing for an assault on Cardassia Prime, one intent on crippling all possible resistance. Reinforcements were impossible; the number of hyperdrive capable ships were too few to make a difference. Gul Tulvek was pushing for the New Alliance to prep for a counter-assault, and Leia found it difficult to argue against it, except for the fact that it would likely fail and cost them all much needed resources.
It was then that one of the aides came in and whispered something in her ear, and a cloud overwhelmed her. "Gul Tulvek," she said, her voice shaking, "I'm afraid I have grave news. The counterattack will not be necessary."
"I don't understand," he said. "How is that grave news?"
"Because the Empire isn't intent on conquering Cardassia," she said sadly. "It intends to destroy it."
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"He's coming here?" Talva asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. As always, the Dark Lord betrayed nothing about his own feelings he wished to keep revealed.
"That is correct, ambassador," was Darth Vader's reply, his voice causing shivers in the spine of even Amb. Talva. "While he is pleased with your progress, the fleet performance has... disappointed him." Bad news, Talva realized - Lord Vader may be a casual murderer, but the Emperor had virtually no tolerance for mistakes. Working under his eye was like working with a loaded blaster at your temple.
"What does he hope to accomplish," Talva asked, more to himself than out loud.
"With the involvement of the Rebellion we're going to have to accelerate the plan," Vader said. "It is necessary to bring the war to a swift end, before the rebels begin gaining support in this galaxy as well."
"In other words," Talva said dryly, "we're going to get very brutal very fast." And you'll want me to clean up the mess, he thought.
"Yes," Vader said, as if it was a non-issue. "His involvement will be limited, until he is satisfied that things are moving as planned. When they are, he'll return to his side of the wormhole." It was left for Talva to draw his own conclusions. Not treasonous in the least, Talva thought, but the implication was there – they would take their rightful place as the rulers of the galaxy. The more Talva thought on it, the better the idea was. He and Vader were a good match. Vader knew how to co-ordinate and maintain the military presence, and he was an astounding figure of power. Talva, on the other hand, was the face of the Empire to the Federation. All of the events that Lord Vader detested as beneath him was where Amb. Talva truly shined. The Federation politicians fell into line like so many nerfs at a few well chosen words, and Talva loved every minute of it. Yes, things were going to be good, very good... so long as the Emperor's brute force tactics didn't ruin everything.
"Very well," he said, and gave the Dark Lord a slight bow before leaving. He walked, thinking very hard, through the decks of the Star Destroyer, making his way to the main hangar. As he walked into the hangar he watched a small shuttle land, too small for a troop or equipment transport. Curious, he turned to the deck officer. "What's on board that shuttle?"
The man tapped a datapad and looked up at the ambassador. "I'm sorry, sir, but the information on this transport has been classified by Lord Vader himself."
Fuming slightly, Amb. Talva strode towards his own shuttle. There were a few wrinkles in this partnership this would need to be fixed before much longer.
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"Come," Picard said as the door to his quarters chimed. It was Seven. "Yes, lieutenant?" He wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened with the Tsunkatse; it didn't.
"I've completed my analysis of the destruction of Deep Space 9," Seven said. "I believe you'll want to see it immediately."
Despite being in his uniform undershirt he followed her to Science Room 1. She touched several panels and the image of a Cardassian ship appeared on the viewer. "This is the Galor-class ship that destroyed Deep Space 9," she said. "This ship has been damaged previously and been improperly repaired, as can be evidenced by microfractures throughout several hull segments."
"I hope you brought me down here for more than this?" Picard said.
"Yes." She tapped some more panels and a scrolling chart appeared. "This is the lifesign scan of the vessel that we recorded during the attack."
Picard examined it. "All I see are Cardassian lifesigns," he commented. "Why is this important?"
Seven tapped more keys. "I have isolated the readings," she said. "Re-examine them." The screen was filled with ten different bio-readings. Picard looked and suddenly realized...
"They're all the same," he whispered.
"Yes. Five hundred and four identical bio-readings on board the Cardassian ship."
"I doubt the crew is well-disciplined enough to breathe together," Picard said.
"Perhaps the beatings were sufficient," Seven replied.
Picard looked at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon."
Seven hesitated. "I apologize; it was an attempt at humor." She continued touching the panels and the bio-signs changed shape. "The bio-signs were designed to mask the signals given off by those actually on board. A skeleton crew of only thirty-eight."
Picard examined the readings. "Is this what I think it is?"
Seven nodded. "Yes. The occupants are human."
Picard was aghast. "Is there any way this could be wrong," he asked, a desperate man afraid of the truth he was being shown.
"There is a 1.2% chance," Seven said. "However, it is reasonably clear that there were human beings on board that ship, and they were the ones who fired upon Deep Space 9."
Picard tried to think but it was difficult. How could such a thing have happened? He was beginning to almost regret the decision to investigate this disaster; his ignorance had truly been bliss compared to the present. "Alright, we know they're human," he began, thinking aloud. "So, what humans would have had such motivation."
"It's unlikely the Federation did this," Seven said. "There is little to be gained in destroying our own station."
"Agreed," Picard said. "Which narrows the choices rather substantially. Who would have the means to overpower, repair, refit, and staff a Galor-class ship?"
"The Empire," Seven said evenly.
"Or the rebels," Picard replied.
"No, captain," Seven said. "The Empire is the only one who could have done this. The attackers had to know about the attack before it occurred, or they wouldn't have arrived so quickly. They had to have had a facility to create the helium matrix weapon that was within two hours of the Bajor System, which means they were operating inside either Cardassian or Federation space, or within the Demilitarized Zone. The attackers had to have knowledge of how to construct and deploy such a weapon. And they would only do it for a clear tactical reason. That leaves only the Empire."
Picard stood in silence, unable to believe what he was hearing. "It was the Empire who launched the attack," she continued, "and so were capable of informing their ship when to arrive. Their arrival was at a precise point in the battle, just before the Cardassian ships were forced to retreat, making their arrival seem like an effort at reinforcement, yet never requiring them to identify themselves or engage the enemy. The Empire could have produced the weapon in the nearby Demilitarized Zone on board a Star Destroyer, which has more than sufficient power generation without using a warp core. And the Empire clearly gained from the destruction from the observed political support it now has in its war against Cardassia."
"But how did they know how to make the weapon?"
"While I was not able to directly confirm it due to my abduction, it is consistent with Imperial procedure that they would attempt to learn about the Borg through detailed examinations of destroyed Borg ships. Due to the redundant designs, information is easily preserved even when a Borg vessel is lost." Picard thought, trying to find an alternative to Seven's points, hoping to prove that she was mistaken, horribly mistaken. "The only power that exists capable of fitting all the known facts of this case is the Empire."
"Do you know what you're suggesting," Picard muttered in horror.
"Yes," Seven replied grimly, "the Empire destroyed Deep Space 9 to further a political invasion of the Federation. It's probable they were also responsible for the unprovoked attack on Halva which precipitated this war." She saw the look on his face. "I'm sorry, captain."
"Don't apologize," Picard said quietly. "You've opened our eyes, lieutenant." He shook his head in quiet disbelief. "And I can only hope it's not too late."
Moff Jerjerrod and his closest aides remained on one knee as the shuttle door opened. Down the ramp, ever so slowly, came the hunched form of Emperor Palpatine. He signaled Jerjerrod to rise, who quickly did so and came into step just behind the Emperor.
"How goes Thrawn's operation?" the Emperor asked as they passed row upon row of stormtroopers at full attention.
"Eighty-three Borg worlds destroyed sir," Jerjerrod quickly replied. The Death Star had been employed as part of a shakedown, far from the eyes of the galaxy. After the destruction of the last Death Star, the Emperor had insisted they make certain all possible problems were worked out before it was revealed. "There was little resistance from the Borg; they seem to see the wisdom of staying out of our way."
"Very well," the Emperor replied, dismissing the Moff's answer. "The Borg are no longer your concern."
"Yes, your excellency," Jerjerrod replied, happy to hear the words. He'd had just about enough chasing the alien cyborgs around the Milky Way, and having to do so at the beck and call of Grand Admiral Thrawn.
"Set your course for the alpha quadrant," the Emperor said. "We have a small rebellion to deal with... and it is high time these pitiful backwater systems learned the true power of the Empire."
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Seven was at work in Science Lab 1 when Data arrived. "I did not have the opportunity to welcome you back upon arrival," Data said. "I am relieved you are all right."
"Thank you, Data," she said. She hesitated. "I was informed about your review. I am sorry Starfleet did not recognize what you can contribute."
"I must admit continued disappointment," Data said. "But since that will not alter the outcome I am endeavoring to focus on other tasks."
Seven was uncomfortable, unsure of how to proceed. "I was informed that you refused to return to your previous position."
"Yes," Data said.
"To protect my career."
"Yes. As the only android in Starfleet, I have encountered many obstacles in my career, despite my successes. As the only Borg in Starfleet, it is conceivable you may face similar ones. I would not wish to have you suffer the same misfortunes I have."
"I am... grateful," Seven said. "And humbled by your generosity."
"You are my friend, Seven," Data said. "I could not forgive myself if I harmed you in any way if it could be avoided." He held out a PADD. "While you were gone I began an investigation into the rebel from the prison. I have discovered his identity."
Seven took the PADD. "Who is he?"
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"Commander Skywalker!"
Luke paused and turned, catching sight of one of the officers from the Overlord. He stopped as she quickly rushed through the base. "Yes, ensign?" he asked.
"The captain said you were interested in the Federation officer at the Tsunkatse match," the ensign said. "She had one of our contacts get a copy of her file for you to look over."
Luke took the PADD. "Thank you," he said. The ensign nodded and went on her way while Luke switched on the PADD.
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"Commander Luke Skywalker," Seven read aloud.
"Lieutenant Seven of Nine," Luke said as he looked at the PADD.
"No record of any biological parents," Seven said.
"Was assimilated by the Borg at a young age," Luke said. "Spent most of her existence as a Borg drone."
"Was raised by his aunt and uncle," Seven said. "They died in a tragic accident."
"The whereabouts of her parents remain unknown," Luke said.
"He has no known relations," Seven continued.
"No family," Luke said with a shake of his head. "Took an interest in Starfleet after removal from the Collective."
"Joined the Rebellion after his family perished," Seven said. "Devotion to the cause was absolute."
"She has been unwavering in her dedication to duty," Luke said.
"Despite his lack of formal training, he was given a commission and rose to a position of authority."
"In a rare exception to protocol, she was given a commission without attending Starfleet Academy, and is now serving as a senior officer on the Federation flagship."
"He possesses superhuman combat skills and is considered extremely dangerous."
"She possesses Borg enhancements to her physiology that put her strength and agility beyond the range of any human being."
"Shows an unusual attachment to his droids."
"Tends to be more forthcoming with artificial intelligences -holograms and androids- than her humanoid colleagues."
"Skywalker refused Lord Vader's personal invitation to join the Empire."
"Seven of Nine resisted all efforts by the Borg Queen to return her to the Collective."
"No romantic attachments," they said.
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"Intriguing, is it not?" Data asked as Seven continued looking through the Imperial file on Skywalker
"Yes," she said distantly. "Broke into a maximum security station and freed a captive. Devised advanced aerial speeder tactics. Destroyed a heavily-armored personnel transport on foot. Wiped out a criminal organization with only a handful of support personnel. Killed a ten-meter tall monster while unarmed. Single-handedly destroyed a gigantic battlestation."
"It is a most unique career," Data said. Seven nodded. "Am I to ascertain from your behavior that you still have some form of attraction towards this individual?"
Seven looked uncertain as she lowered the PADD. "I am unsure of how to describe the way I feel, Data. This individual is amazing, his accomplishments staggering. I am... intimidated by the breadth of his talents."
"I feel you are doing yourself an injustice, Seven," Data said. "Your own talents are impressive."
"They do not feel that way," Seven said. "And in the wake of my experience with the Tsunkatse, I feel even more of an inadequate human being."
Data shook his head. "I agree with the captain; you did what the situation required. You have nothing to be ashamed of."
"When he looked at me," Seven said, "when I was fighting the Wookiee... I felt ashamed of myself."
"You sought his approval?"
Seven hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "And the expression on his face said he did not. I do not understand this, Data. He is only words in a file and images on a screen, but I cannot help but think about him." She put the PADD down. "Yet I know that these feelings cannot be taken to their logical conclusion, that this effort is doomed from the start. And I... I recognize in myself that I would likely be too frightened to speak to him beyond what my duties required."
"Perhaps you should discuss this matter with Counselor Troi-"
"No," Seven said emphatically. "She is a human, I have observed their behavior. She would encourage this kind of thinking."
"And you feel it should not be encouraged?"
"As I said, taking this to its logical conclusion, I know that I could never become involved with this individual." She looked at the PADD, still lying there on the table. "Even if he and I were on the same side in this conflict, he is beyond my reach. All the councilor would do would encourage me to continue my irrational interest in this individual, or attempt to redirect me towards an achievable target. Neither of those is acceptable."
"Then I am afraid I can provide no further advice, Seven, as this goes beyond my own experiences."
"I know," Seven said. "But the mere act of discussion has helped, and for that I thank you."
"You are quite welcome," Data said. "Have you decided how you will proceed?"
"The only logical way, I will endeavor to not think about him."
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After the celebrations had died down throughout the New Alliance, reality, as it usually does, came crashing in to ruin the party. The victory was an unbridled success, establishing not only the effectiveness of the New Alliance, and thereby improving the declining morale of late, but also gave a good chance to field test the new T'lix ships. Only a small number, eighty-two in all, had been refitted before the battle; with this success General Riklin was able to get permission to retrofit entire fleets of the ships for the war effort. And losses had been minimal for their side - two D'deridex, six Galors, six T'lix, and five from the X- or B-wing fighter squadrons.
The first unified blow was a success, and that brought her almost as much joy as the safe return of Luke. She had to admit, she'd almost didn't tell him about the mission, such was her fear of a trap, but it looks like it all worked out. The Death Star plans were being given a thorough examination; hopefully, someone could figure out a way to stop it before another Alderaan came.
All that good news, however, was soon overshadowed. Elim Garak had arrived with information on a combined Federation-Imperial fleet that was preparing for an assault on Cardassia Prime, one intent on crippling all possible resistance. Reinforcements were impossible; the number of hyperdrive capable ships were too few to make a difference. Gul Tulvek was pushing for the New Alliance to prep for a counter-assault, and Leia found it difficult to argue against it, except for the fact that it would likely fail and cost them all much needed resources.
It was then that one of the aides came in and whispered something in her ear, and a cloud overwhelmed her. "Gul Tulvek," she said, her voice shaking, "I'm afraid I have grave news. The counterattack will not be necessary."
"I don't understand," he said. "How is that grave news?"
"Because the Empire isn't intent on conquering Cardassia," she said sadly. "It intends to destroy it."
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"He's coming here?" Talva asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. As always, the Dark Lord betrayed nothing about his own feelings he wished to keep revealed.
"That is correct, ambassador," was Darth Vader's reply, his voice causing shivers in the spine of even Amb. Talva. "While he is pleased with your progress, the fleet performance has... disappointed him." Bad news, Talva realized - Lord Vader may be a casual murderer, but the Emperor had virtually no tolerance for mistakes. Working under his eye was like working with a loaded blaster at your temple.
"What does he hope to accomplish," Talva asked, more to himself than out loud.
"With the involvement of the Rebellion we're going to have to accelerate the plan," Vader said. "It is necessary to bring the war to a swift end, before the rebels begin gaining support in this galaxy as well."
"In other words," Talva said dryly, "we're going to get very brutal very fast." And you'll want me to clean up the mess, he thought.
"Yes," Vader said, as if it was a non-issue. "His involvement will be limited, until he is satisfied that things are moving as planned. When they are, he'll return to his side of the wormhole." It was left for Talva to draw his own conclusions. Not treasonous in the least, Talva thought, but the implication was there – they would take their rightful place as the rulers of the galaxy. The more Talva thought on it, the better the idea was. He and Vader were a good match. Vader knew how to co-ordinate and maintain the military presence, and he was an astounding figure of power. Talva, on the other hand, was the face of the Empire to the Federation. All of the events that Lord Vader detested as beneath him was where Amb. Talva truly shined. The Federation politicians fell into line like so many nerfs at a few well chosen words, and Talva loved every minute of it. Yes, things were going to be good, very good... so long as the Emperor's brute force tactics didn't ruin everything.
"Very well," he said, and gave the Dark Lord a slight bow before leaving. He walked, thinking very hard, through the decks of the Star Destroyer, making his way to the main hangar. As he walked into the hangar he watched a small shuttle land, too small for a troop or equipment transport. Curious, he turned to the deck officer. "What's on board that shuttle?"
The man tapped a datapad and looked up at the ambassador. "I'm sorry, sir, but the information on this transport has been classified by Lord Vader himself."
Fuming slightly, Amb. Talva strode towards his own shuttle. There were a few wrinkles in this partnership this would need to be fixed before much longer.
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"Come," Picard said as the door to his quarters chimed. It was Seven. "Yes, lieutenant?" He wondered if it had anything to do with what had happened with the Tsunkatse; it didn't.
"I've completed my analysis of the destruction of Deep Space 9," Seven said. "I believe you'll want to see it immediately."
Despite being in his uniform undershirt he followed her to Science Room 1. She touched several panels and the image of a Cardassian ship appeared on the viewer. "This is the Galor-class ship that destroyed Deep Space 9," she said. "This ship has been damaged previously and been improperly repaired, as can be evidenced by microfractures throughout several hull segments."
"I hope you brought me down here for more than this?" Picard said.
"Yes." She tapped some more panels and a scrolling chart appeared. "This is the lifesign scan of the vessel that we recorded during the attack."
Picard examined it. "All I see are Cardassian lifesigns," he commented. "Why is this important?"
Seven tapped more keys. "I have isolated the readings," she said. "Re-examine them." The screen was filled with ten different bio-readings. Picard looked and suddenly realized...
"They're all the same," he whispered.
"Yes. Five hundred and four identical bio-readings on board the Cardassian ship."
"I doubt the crew is well-disciplined enough to breathe together," Picard said.
"Perhaps the beatings were sufficient," Seven replied.
Picard looked at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon."
Seven hesitated. "I apologize; it was an attempt at humor." She continued touching the panels and the bio-signs changed shape. "The bio-signs were designed to mask the signals given off by those actually on board. A skeleton crew of only thirty-eight."
Picard examined the readings. "Is this what I think it is?"
Seven nodded. "Yes. The occupants are human."
Picard was aghast. "Is there any way this could be wrong," he asked, a desperate man afraid of the truth he was being shown.
"There is a 1.2% chance," Seven said. "However, it is reasonably clear that there were human beings on board that ship, and they were the ones who fired upon Deep Space 9."
Picard tried to think but it was difficult. How could such a thing have happened? He was beginning to almost regret the decision to investigate this disaster; his ignorance had truly been bliss compared to the present. "Alright, we know they're human," he began, thinking aloud. "So, what humans would have had such motivation."
"It's unlikely the Federation did this," Seven said. "There is little to be gained in destroying our own station."
"Agreed," Picard said. "Which narrows the choices rather substantially. Who would have the means to overpower, repair, refit, and staff a Galor-class ship?"
"The Empire," Seven said evenly.
"Or the rebels," Picard replied.
"No, captain," Seven said. "The Empire is the only one who could have done this. The attackers had to know about the attack before it occurred, or they wouldn't have arrived so quickly. They had to have had a facility to create the helium matrix weapon that was within two hours of the Bajor System, which means they were operating inside either Cardassian or Federation space, or within the Demilitarized Zone. The attackers had to have knowledge of how to construct and deploy such a weapon. And they would only do it for a clear tactical reason. That leaves only the Empire."
Picard stood in silence, unable to believe what he was hearing. "It was the Empire who launched the attack," she continued, "and so were capable of informing their ship when to arrive. Their arrival was at a precise point in the battle, just before the Cardassian ships were forced to retreat, making their arrival seem like an effort at reinforcement, yet never requiring them to identify themselves or engage the enemy. The Empire could have produced the weapon in the nearby Demilitarized Zone on board a Star Destroyer, which has more than sufficient power generation without using a warp core. And the Empire clearly gained from the destruction from the observed political support it now has in its war against Cardassia."
"But how did they know how to make the weapon?"
"While I was not able to directly confirm it due to my abduction, it is consistent with Imperial procedure that they would attempt to learn about the Borg through detailed examinations of destroyed Borg ships. Due to the redundant designs, information is easily preserved even when a Borg vessel is lost." Picard thought, trying to find an alternative to Seven's points, hoping to prove that she was mistaken, horribly mistaken. "The only power that exists capable of fitting all the known facts of this case is the Empire."
"Do you know what you're suggesting," Picard muttered in horror.
"Yes," Seven replied grimly, "the Empire destroyed Deep Space 9 to further a political invasion of the Federation. It's probable they were also responsible for the unprovoked attack on Halva which precipitated this war." She saw the look on his face. "I'm sorry, captain."
"Don't apologize," Picard said quietly. "You've opened our eyes, lieutenant." He shook his head in quiet disbelief. "And I can only hope it's not too late."
Chuck
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Star Empire
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Don't worry, we're reading and greatly enjoying. It's just harder to comment when the chapters come so fast (can't imagine how you are actually writing them that fast). I have a hard time thinking of anything to say usually other than what another great chapter.Sonnenburg wrote:Thanks. I was starting to wonder if I was just talking to myself for a while there.
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consequences
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Stuart Mackey
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Nicely put understatement"Skywalker refused Lord Vader's personal invitation to join the Empire."
Via money Europe could become political in five years" "... the current communities should be completed by a Finance Common Market which would lead us to European economic unity. Only then would ... the mutual commitments make it fairly easy to produce the political union which is the goal"
Jean Omer Marie Gabriel Monnet
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Jean Omer Marie Gabriel Monnet
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Sonnenburg
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Thanks. I have a few advantages here: I started posting this with seven chapters already written to make sure I had a buffer zone. The plot framework was already in place, and while there are deviations (we're going to see a significant alteration starting in 31), having a mostly complete skeleton makes the job much easier. Lastly, I've had six years to think about how I could have done this right the first time.Star Empire wrote:Don't worry, we're reading and greatly enjoying. It's just harder to comment when the chapters come so fast (can't imagine how you are actually writing them that fast). I have a hard time thinking of anything to say usually other than what another great chapter.Sonnenburg wrote:Thanks. I was starting to wonder if I was just talking to myself for a while there.
Edit: Also, I'm finalizing the draft for 35 now, so I'm almost certain that the March 31 goal is going to be within reach.
Last edited by Sonnenburg on 2006-03-19 09:34am, edited 1 time in total.
Chuck
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Thanks! If you're looking for differences, the final act will drive you a little batty. In looking back, there were some missed opportunities that I'm going to be taking full advantage of.consequences wrote:Hell, I'm too busy trying to keep track of all the differences to try for my usual theoretically witty remarks. But yeah, this is awesome.
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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I figured since these are Imperial records, after all, that the details of that "discussion" would have been kept off the record, so the entire Cloud City event was supposed to be a recruiting effort by Vader at the behest of the Emperor. That's why I strove for a little inaccuracy there, like Luke having no family, since these would be based on ISB information rather than first-hand knowledge.Stuart Mackey wrote:Nicely put understatement"Skywalker refused Lord Vader's personal invitation to join the Empire."
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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Part XXIX
Somehow Luke had wound up on an escape pod. He looked about and saw that he was alone, and a quick peak outside revealed that there was nothing out there, anywhere... just the distant stars. No planet, no ships, just complete and total isolation. He took a slow, deep breath to steady his nerves as he dropped back onto the seat. He could face this... he had to face this. What was the alternative? To just stop altogether?
Luke was shocked as a woman suddenly slipped onto his lap, and he recognized it as the Borg woman -Seven of Nine. She was dressed in a slinky, low-cut dress; she smiled seductively at him and leaned up close, blowing a kiss just inches from his face. She reached back and her long hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she shook it out. She giggled; it was warm and sexual, and she changed her position so she sat astride his legs. Then she sang for him; it was a rich and beautiful soprano, perfectly on key, precise in every sound. "Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea, and frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee." She gave Luke a kiss on his lips, full and warm. "And little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff," she continued, drawing the word "loved" out with a visible use of her tongue. "She brought him strings and ceiling wax... and other fancy stuff." She put her hands behind her head, twisted and arched her back so that her breasts were in front of his face.
A lightsaber emerged from her chest, and Luke jerked back so hard his head hit the wall of the pod. Seven of Nine looked down at it for a few seconds, then her head lolled about and she fell over. Standing behind her was the drone with the red hair –if she had had red hair in her Borg state; beyond was the entire Collective. "You will be assimilated," she insisted, switching off the lightsaber. "Resistance is futile." Luke got shakily to his feet and stepped over the corpse. With each step she became more and more human, until she was in his arms. "Embrace perfection," she said, and kissed him.
"Don't do this." Luke broke off the kiss and turned back. Seven of Nine was on her feet, her wound still visible but seemingly oblivious to it. "Please, Luke," she begged.
"Your biological distinctiveness will be added to our own," the Borg declared.
There were tears in her eyes. "You know it's wrong!" she insisted.
"A narrow vision. You will become one with the Borg."
Seven of Nine was trembling slightly, her mouth open, eyes red, cheeks shining with tears, a look of grief and despair on her face. She seemed to be staring into Luke's soul. "I love you," she said like a sad, final goodbye.
"Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward you will service us."
Before he could see any more he was yanked back to reality; a Cardassian was gently slapping him on the cheek and saying his name. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Luke's mind was still under inertia from the Force meditation. "Who are you?"
"Elim Garak," he explained.
"How'd you get in here? The door was locked."
"Yes, 'was.' I'm very sorry to interrupt whatever it was you were doing but this is very, very urgent. Are you all right?" he repeated.
"Yes," Luke said, pulling himself up and trying to put the vision temporarily out of his mind. "What's wrong?"
"I've been informed that the Empire is deploying a battlestation called a Death Star in their attack on my homeworld of Cardassia," Garak explained. "And that this Death Star has a weapon capable of demolishing an entire planet."
"I heard," Luke said grimly. "And I'm truly sorry... I wish there was something we could do."
"But I was told that you personally managed to destroy one of these Death Stars before," Garak said. "If you've done it once, surely you can do it again."
"The plans for the new station show that the critical flaw has been removed," Luke said. "We're searching for a new one, but until then, there's nothing we can do. I'm sorry, I wish with all my being I could help you, but there's nothing."
Outside Garak was very controlled but underneath there was substantial fear and desperation. "I've heard you have great powers," Garak said, like a man prepared to sell his soul.
"I have some talents," Luke said. "But destroying a giant battlestation isn't one of them. Believe me that if there were any way, no matter what the cost, for me to stop that thing, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I'm as helpless as you are, Mr. Garak."
Garak's struggle was starting to become more difficult. "My people have suffered a great deal in recent years," he said. "The Maquis, the Klingons, the Dominion... we have struggled to recover again and again. I don't know if we have the strength to recover from this."
Luke felt impotent in the face of Garak's grief. "What's your New Alliance security clearance?" Luke asked.
"Level One," Garak said.
"See Leia Organa, present your credentials; she'll give you the Death Star plans, or direct you to someone who's working on the project. If you can find a weakness, Mr. Garak, tell me, and I'll do it. No matter what the personal risks I promise I'll try."
"Thank you, Mr. Skywalker," Garak said. "If Cardassia falls... I'm not sure what desperation may drive my people to do."
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On the other side of the galaxy, the battle for Cardassia was already under way, and Voyager was right in the middle of it. The bridge shook as another blast from a Keldon struck. "Direct hit, Deck 9!" Ens. Kim yelled over the din.
"Return fire," Janeway yelled. Three quantum torpedoes launched from the ship and slammed into the Cardassian cruiser, blossoming into massive explosions that visibly rocked the ship. She pushed slightly at the Doctor, who was trying to heal a four-inch laceration on her forehead.
"Hold still!" he ordered, and was promptly knocked off his feet by another hit. Nearby, an overloaded conduit caused a damage control console to explode, showering the deck with debris.
Janeway righted herself, a look of bitterness on her bloodied face. "Time to end this. Fire all weapons," she ordered.
Phasers and torpedoes lanced out at the ship, tearing it apart. Within seconds it was completely vaporized. "Status," she called.
"Shields at 28%," Tuvok replied, "We've suffered some damage to our outer hull."
"Captain," Paris called, "Admiral Praji is calling for the final assault. We're to rendezvous at Cardassia Prime."
Chakotay hit his comm badge while the Doctor went to work on some of the more serious injuries on the bridge. "Chakotay to Engineering. B’Elanna, we need your people to work on getting more power to the shields. If they fought this hard here, who knows what they'll do once what get to Cardassia."
"I'm on it, commander."
Voyager slipped into hyperspace along with fifty Imperial warships and another thirty Federation vessels. Minutes went by, and then they found themselves at Cardassia Prime itself. As expected, a large force of Cardassian warships had formed a defensive perimeter around their homeworld. The crew had learned that a similar event had occurred at the end of the Dominion War while they were gone – hopefully they would meet with the same success.
"The admiral wants us to hold position here," Paris told Capt. Janeway, turning slightly in his chair.
"How're those shields, Tuvok," Chakotay asked, his voice filled with a concerned tension.
"34%," the Vulcan replied.
"I hope that's enough," Janeway said, trying not to squirm as the Doctor ran a dermal regenerator over her scalp.
"Captain," Tuvok said, "there is a broadcast on all frequencies from Adm. Praji."
"Let's hear it," said Chakotay.
They listened as the voice of the admiral echoed throughout the room. "Cardassians, you are beaten. The Emperor has instructed me personally to give you one last opportunity to surrender without further loss of life."
"Let's hope they take it," Janeway said, turning briefly to Chakotay before the Doctor grabbed her chin and yanked it straight.
"Hold still," he chastised her, "unless you'd prefer a six-inch eyebrow."
"This is your last warning. Surrender immediately, or suffer the consequences."
"Well, there's your Imperial diplomacy for you," Paris remarked from the helm. After less than a minute, the Cardassians gave their reply.
"We will not suffer subjugation again," the voice said with venom. "Not while there is still breath in our bodies. If you want our world... come and take it!"
"Stand by for attack," Janeway said.
"Captain," Kim called from his station, "there's another ship coming out of hyperspace. Spherical.... eight hundred kilometers in diameter?"
"I think you mean 'meters'," Chakotay replied, not looking.
"Negative," Tuvok replied, "sensor readings confirm the vessel is two hundred seventy million cubic kilometers."
Janeway stood up, unable to believe it. "On screen," she said. The image showed a new moon rising over Cardassia. "Magnify," she whispered. The image changed to a close up image of a near-perfect sphere, unlike anything nature ever intended. An opening was running along its circumference, and one of the halves had a gigantic indentation in the surface, a concave formation over a hundred kilometers across at least.
"Please tell me that's on our side," the Doctor said, breaking the silence that had filled the bridge.
Kim tapped some of the panels in reply. "Definitely Imperial," he confirmed. "Hyperdrive system, turbolaser emplacements, ray and particle shield generators."
"What's that- that dish-shaped area?" Chakotay asked.
"I don't know," Janeway said, stepping closer to the monster on the viewscreen. "But I have the feeling we're about to find out."
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"Is everything ready, commander?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes, your highness," Moff Jerjerrod replied, looking over the final simulation results. "Our fleet is in position, we have a firing solution."
"Good," the Emperor said, the word oozing from his throat. He walked up to the image and offered a most unpleasant smile. "Fire."
Immediately the sound of beeps and levers and buttons filled the various parts of the Death Star as the ultimate weapon of the Empire, the reason this station was even built, was prepared. And a single, chilling command echoed throughout its corridors.
"Commence primary ignition."
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"I'm reading an energy build up in the, the ship," Kim said. "Five thousand terrajoules....fifty thousand....fifty million?" he said with complete unbelief. "It's off the scale!"
"What's happening?" Janeway asked, staring at the ship. Suddenly, ten beams of green light appeared and focused on a single point in the center of the dish. An eleventh leapt through it from the very center and launched into the Cardassian homeworld. In the blink of an eye the beam was gone - as was the planet. They watched in shock as the entire world exploded.
"Good God," Janeway said, watching the devastation.
Chakotay stepped up behind her. "God had nothing to do with that thing."
"Debris is approaching," Tuvok said.
Janeway and Chakotay whirled. "We're a hundred thousand kilometers away!" Janeway exclaimed. "How could...." She trailed off as she saw the rocks coming. "Shields. All power to shields. Take it from life support if you have to."
The ship was bumped around by a few smaller particles, then a large asteroid struck, putting them into a spin that threatened to overwhelm the inertial dampeners. Finally, the maelstrom of rock subsided, and the crew slowly returned to its feet.
"I take it back," the Doctor said. "I don't think I want that on my side after all."
"Better on ours than on theirs," Kim said.
"Perfect," the Doctor muttered. "Should I fight for or against the mass murderers?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
Captain Picard sat stock still, his patience strained to the limits. He exchanged a brief look with Seven of Nine, who was no doubt accustomed to the irritation of human ignorance. He watched as the officers of Starfleet Command flipped through the report he and Seven had prepared days ago, and had been waiting anxiously to present for immediate discussion. Once again, the wheels of bureaucracy ground slowly. Finally, Admiral Parks closed the folder and looked at the other officers present.
"This is a very serious accusation," he said, looking at Picard and Seven with obvious concern. "Do you have any further evidence of this?"
"The evidence you have should be enough to convince you of the truth," Picard replied. "The Empire has fooled us all. They've been attempting to subvert control of the Federation, and are murdering innocent lives to do it."
"Yes, so you've alleged," Parks replied coolly. "As I said, very serious charges. However, the evidence you do have is circumstantial at best."
"Admiral, it's as plain as day what's happening," Picard said.
"I'm sorry," said Admiral Wallace, "I see theories, I see guesses. What I don't see is hard evidence."
"The data you have should be sufficient," Seven said, "and the conclusions are obvious."
"Perhaps you lack scientific objectivity," Wallace replied.
"Perhaps you lack scientific understanding," Seven retorted, her voice remaining even.
Wallace was slightly taken aback by the insult, but quickly rallied. "Or perhaps a Borg spy is trying to trick us into dividing the Federation and the Empire."
Picard had had enough and stood up. "It's bad enough that you will hold back Commander Data from his rightful position-"
"Jean-luc," Parks said trying to stop him, but Picard refused.
"-but now when unpleasant news arrives you'll only see the fact that the messenger happens to be a Borg!"
"Sit - down," Parks said sharply.
Picard slowly took his seat. "I know that this isn't what you want to hear," he said slowly. "I know because I felt the same way. But we cannot-"
"What we cannot do," Parks said, "is embrace wild theories as evidence, especially about our closest ally in the midst of what has become the largest war in human history."
"Then look for evidence," Picard said. "You'll see the unfortunate truth."
"Naturally," Wallace said. "It would only be prudent. As soon as the war is over we'll begin a formal investigation." Picard gaped. "Our resources are committed, captain. We will have to wait until this can be investigated in due course. Thank you both for bringing this to our attention. You're dismissed."
"Continuing the war would be a poor strategic decision," Seven commented in the hall as they left the meeting. "The Cardassians and Romulans could be a potential ally, should the Empire attempt to annex the Federation by force."
"Naturally," Picard said, his mood dark from this setback. They entered the turbolift. "Main level," he said.
"Then why would Starfleet wish to continue a war that could be to their own detriment?"
"Because sometimes we cannot see the things we don't wish to," Picard said. "And I'm afraid I have to include myself in that list."
"When the facts came forward," Seven said, "you were visibly distraught, but you did not deny them."
"I should have listened to Will," he said. The doors opened and the two stepped out. As they did they were greeted by the cries of an angry mob. Picard and Seven turned and saw hundreds of misshapen and angry people, screaming at them. Picard was taken aback for a moment and then quickly recognized this place. "Oh no. Not now."
"Captain," Seven remarked, visibly agitated, "what's going on?"
Suddenly a booming voice filled the chambers, overwhelming the screaming crowds, prompting them to quiet down. "This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends." Seven and Picard turned and saw the oddly-clad figure on a throne descending towards them. "This is the way the world ends," he said, a few laughs from the crowd being heard at his approach.
Picard gritted his teeth and looked at the figure with absolute malice. "Q."
"Not with a bang," Q smiled, "but a whimper." And the room filled with his echoing laughter.
Somehow Luke had wound up on an escape pod. He looked about and saw that he was alone, and a quick peak outside revealed that there was nothing out there, anywhere... just the distant stars. No planet, no ships, just complete and total isolation. He took a slow, deep breath to steady his nerves as he dropped back onto the seat. He could face this... he had to face this. What was the alternative? To just stop altogether?
Luke was shocked as a woman suddenly slipped onto his lap, and he recognized it as the Borg woman -Seven of Nine. She was dressed in a slinky, low-cut dress; she smiled seductively at him and leaned up close, blowing a kiss just inches from his face. She reached back and her long hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she shook it out. She giggled; it was warm and sexual, and she changed her position so she sat astride his legs. Then she sang for him; it was a rich and beautiful soprano, perfectly on key, precise in every sound. "Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea, and frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee." She gave Luke a kiss on his lips, full and warm. "And little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff," she continued, drawing the word "loved" out with a visible use of her tongue. "She brought him strings and ceiling wax... and other fancy stuff." She put her hands behind her head, twisted and arched her back so that her breasts were in front of his face.
A lightsaber emerged from her chest, and Luke jerked back so hard his head hit the wall of the pod. Seven of Nine looked down at it for a few seconds, then her head lolled about and she fell over. Standing behind her was the drone with the red hair –if she had had red hair in her Borg state; beyond was the entire Collective. "You will be assimilated," she insisted, switching off the lightsaber. "Resistance is futile." Luke got shakily to his feet and stepped over the corpse. With each step she became more and more human, until she was in his arms. "Embrace perfection," she said, and kissed him.
"Don't do this." Luke broke off the kiss and turned back. Seven of Nine was on her feet, her wound still visible but seemingly oblivious to it. "Please, Luke," she begged.
"Your biological distinctiveness will be added to our own," the Borg declared.
There were tears in her eyes. "You know it's wrong!" she insisted.
"A narrow vision. You will become one with the Borg."
Seven of Nine was trembling slightly, her mouth open, eyes red, cheeks shining with tears, a look of grief and despair on her face. She seemed to be staring into Luke's soul. "I love you," she said like a sad, final goodbye.
"Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward you will service us."
Before he could see any more he was yanked back to reality; a Cardassian was gently slapping him on the cheek and saying his name. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Luke's mind was still under inertia from the Force meditation. "Who are you?"
"Elim Garak," he explained.
"How'd you get in here? The door was locked."
"Yes, 'was.' I'm very sorry to interrupt whatever it was you were doing but this is very, very urgent. Are you all right?" he repeated.
"Yes," Luke said, pulling himself up and trying to put the vision temporarily out of his mind. "What's wrong?"
"I've been informed that the Empire is deploying a battlestation called a Death Star in their attack on my homeworld of Cardassia," Garak explained. "And that this Death Star has a weapon capable of demolishing an entire planet."
"I heard," Luke said grimly. "And I'm truly sorry... I wish there was something we could do."
"But I was told that you personally managed to destroy one of these Death Stars before," Garak said. "If you've done it once, surely you can do it again."
"The plans for the new station show that the critical flaw has been removed," Luke said. "We're searching for a new one, but until then, there's nothing we can do. I'm sorry, I wish with all my being I could help you, but there's nothing."
Outside Garak was very controlled but underneath there was substantial fear and desperation. "I've heard you have great powers," Garak said, like a man prepared to sell his soul.
"I have some talents," Luke said. "But destroying a giant battlestation isn't one of them. Believe me that if there were any way, no matter what the cost, for me to stop that thing, I would do it in a heartbeat. But I'm as helpless as you are, Mr. Garak."
Garak's struggle was starting to become more difficult. "My people have suffered a great deal in recent years," he said. "The Maquis, the Klingons, the Dominion... we have struggled to recover again and again. I don't know if we have the strength to recover from this."
Luke felt impotent in the face of Garak's grief. "What's your New Alliance security clearance?" Luke asked.
"Level One," Garak said.
"See Leia Organa, present your credentials; she'll give you the Death Star plans, or direct you to someone who's working on the project. If you can find a weakness, Mr. Garak, tell me, and I'll do it. No matter what the personal risks I promise I'll try."
"Thank you, Mr. Skywalker," Garak said. "If Cardassia falls... I'm not sure what desperation may drive my people to do."
--------------------------------------------------------------
On the other side of the galaxy, the battle for Cardassia was already under way, and Voyager was right in the middle of it. The bridge shook as another blast from a Keldon struck. "Direct hit, Deck 9!" Ens. Kim yelled over the din.
"Return fire," Janeway yelled. Three quantum torpedoes launched from the ship and slammed into the Cardassian cruiser, blossoming into massive explosions that visibly rocked the ship. She pushed slightly at the Doctor, who was trying to heal a four-inch laceration on her forehead.
"Hold still!" he ordered, and was promptly knocked off his feet by another hit. Nearby, an overloaded conduit caused a damage control console to explode, showering the deck with debris.
Janeway righted herself, a look of bitterness on her bloodied face. "Time to end this. Fire all weapons," she ordered.
Phasers and torpedoes lanced out at the ship, tearing it apart. Within seconds it was completely vaporized. "Status," she called.
"Shields at 28%," Tuvok replied, "We've suffered some damage to our outer hull."
"Captain," Paris called, "Admiral Praji is calling for the final assault. We're to rendezvous at Cardassia Prime."
Chakotay hit his comm badge while the Doctor went to work on some of the more serious injuries on the bridge. "Chakotay to Engineering. B’Elanna, we need your people to work on getting more power to the shields. If they fought this hard here, who knows what they'll do once what get to Cardassia."
"I'm on it, commander."
Voyager slipped into hyperspace along with fifty Imperial warships and another thirty Federation vessels. Minutes went by, and then they found themselves at Cardassia Prime itself. As expected, a large force of Cardassian warships had formed a defensive perimeter around their homeworld. The crew had learned that a similar event had occurred at the end of the Dominion War while they were gone – hopefully they would meet with the same success.
"The admiral wants us to hold position here," Paris told Capt. Janeway, turning slightly in his chair.
"How're those shields, Tuvok," Chakotay asked, his voice filled with a concerned tension.
"34%," the Vulcan replied.
"I hope that's enough," Janeway said, trying not to squirm as the Doctor ran a dermal regenerator over her scalp.
"Captain," Tuvok said, "there is a broadcast on all frequencies from Adm. Praji."
"Let's hear it," said Chakotay.
They listened as the voice of the admiral echoed throughout the room. "Cardassians, you are beaten. The Emperor has instructed me personally to give you one last opportunity to surrender without further loss of life."
"Let's hope they take it," Janeway said, turning briefly to Chakotay before the Doctor grabbed her chin and yanked it straight.
"Hold still," he chastised her, "unless you'd prefer a six-inch eyebrow."
"This is your last warning. Surrender immediately, or suffer the consequences."
"Well, there's your Imperial diplomacy for you," Paris remarked from the helm. After less than a minute, the Cardassians gave their reply.
"We will not suffer subjugation again," the voice said with venom. "Not while there is still breath in our bodies. If you want our world... come and take it!"
"Stand by for attack," Janeway said.
"Captain," Kim called from his station, "there's another ship coming out of hyperspace. Spherical.... eight hundred kilometers in diameter?"
"I think you mean 'meters'," Chakotay replied, not looking.
"Negative," Tuvok replied, "sensor readings confirm the vessel is two hundred seventy million cubic kilometers."
Janeway stood up, unable to believe it. "On screen," she said. The image showed a new moon rising over Cardassia. "Magnify," she whispered. The image changed to a close up image of a near-perfect sphere, unlike anything nature ever intended. An opening was running along its circumference, and one of the halves had a gigantic indentation in the surface, a concave formation over a hundred kilometers across at least.
"Please tell me that's on our side," the Doctor said, breaking the silence that had filled the bridge.
Kim tapped some of the panels in reply. "Definitely Imperial," he confirmed. "Hyperdrive system, turbolaser emplacements, ray and particle shield generators."
"What's that- that dish-shaped area?" Chakotay asked.
"I don't know," Janeway said, stepping closer to the monster on the viewscreen. "But I have the feeling we're about to find out."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"Is everything ready, commander?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes, your highness," Moff Jerjerrod replied, looking over the final simulation results. "Our fleet is in position, we have a firing solution."
"Good," the Emperor said, the word oozing from his throat. He walked up to the image and offered a most unpleasant smile. "Fire."
Immediately the sound of beeps and levers and buttons filled the various parts of the Death Star as the ultimate weapon of the Empire, the reason this station was even built, was prepared. And a single, chilling command echoed throughout its corridors.
"Commence primary ignition."
--------------------------------------------------------------
"I'm reading an energy build up in the, the ship," Kim said. "Five thousand terrajoules....fifty thousand....fifty million?" he said with complete unbelief. "It's off the scale!"
"What's happening?" Janeway asked, staring at the ship. Suddenly, ten beams of green light appeared and focused on a single point in the center of the dish. An eleventh leapt through it from the very center and launched into the Cardassian homeworld. In the blink of an eye the beam was gone - as was the planet. They watched in shock as the entire world exploded.
"Good God," Janeway said, watching the devastation.
Chakotay stepped up behind her. "God had nothing to do with that thing."
"Debris is approaching," Tuvok said.
Janeway and Chakotay whirled. "We're a hundred thousand kilometers away!" Janeway exclaimed. "How could...." She trailed off as she saw the rocks coming. "Shields. All power to shields. Take it from life support if you have to."
The ship was bumped around by a few smaller particles, then a large asteroid struck, putting them into a spin that threatened to overwhelm the inertial dampeners. Finally, the maelstrom of rock subsided, and the crew slowly returned to its feet.
"I take it back," the Doctor said. "I don't think I want that on my side after all."
"Better on ours than on theirs," Kim said.
"Perfect," the Doctor muttered. "Should I fight for or against the mass murderers?"
--------------------------------------------------------------
Captain Picard sat stock still, his patience strained to the limits. He exchanged a brief look with Seven of Nine, who was no doubt accustomed to the irritation of human ignorance. He watched as the officers of Starfleet Command flipped through the report he and Seven had prepared days ago, and had been waiting anxiously to present for immediate discussion. Once again, the wheels of bureaucracy ground slowly. Finally, Admiral Parks closed the folder and looked at the other officers present.
"This is a very serious accusation," he said, looking at Picard and Seven with obvious concern. "Do you have any further evidence of this?"
"The evidence you have should be enough to convince you of the truth," Picard replied. "The Empire has fooled us all. They've been attempting to subvert control of the Federation, and are murdering innocent lives to do it."
"Yes, so you've alleged," Parks replied coolly. "As I said, very serious charges. However, the evidence you do have is circumstantial at best."
"Admiral, it's as plain as day what's happening," Picard said.
"I'm sorry," said Admiral Wallace, "I see theories, I see guesses. What I don't see is hard evidence."
"The data you have should be sufficient," Seven said, "and the conclusions are obvious."
"Perhaps you lack scientific objectivity," Wallace replied.
"Perhaps you lack scientific understanding," Seven retorted, her voice remaining even.
Wallace was slightly taken aback by the insult, but quickly rallied. "Or perhaps a Borg spy is trying to trick us into dividing the Federation and the Empire."
Picard had had enough and stood up. "It's bad enough that you will hold back Commander Data from his rightful position-"
"Jean-luc," Parks said trying to stop him, but Picard refused.
"-but now when unpleasant news arrives you'll only see the fact that the messenger happens to be a Borg!"
"Sit - down," Parks said sharply.
Picard slowly took his seat. "I know that this isn't what you want to hear," he said slowly. "I know because I felt the same way. But we cannot-"
"What we cannot do," Parks said, "is embrace wild theories as evidence, especially about our closest ally in the midst of what has become the largest war in human history."
"Then look for evidence," Picard said. "You'll see the unfortunate truth."
"Naturally," Wallace said. "It would only be prudent. As soon as the war is over we'll begin a formal investigation." Picard gaped. "Our resources are committed, captain. We will have to wait until this can be investigated in due course. Thank you both for bringing this to our attention. You're dismissed."
"Continuing the war would be a poor strategic decision," Seven commented in the hall as they left the meeting. "The Cardassians and Romulans could be a potential ally, should the Empire attempt to annex the Federation by force."
"Naturally," Picard said, his mood dark from this setback. They entered the turbolift. "Main level," he said.
"Then why would Starfleet wish to continue a war that could be to their own detriment?"
"Because sometimes we cannot see the things we don't wish to," Picard said. "And I'm afraid I have to include myself in that list."
"When the facts came forward," Seven said, "you were visibly distraught, but you did not deny them."
"I should have listened to Will," he said. The doors opened and the two stepped out. As they did they were greeted by the cries of an angry mob. Picard and Seven turned and saw hundreds of misshapen and angry people, screaming at them. Picard was taken aback for a moment and then quickly recognized this place. "Oh no. Not now."
"Captain," Seven remarked, visibly agitated, "what's going on?"
Suddenly a booming voice filled the chambers, overwhelming the screaming crowds, prompting them to quiet down. "This is the way the world ends. This is the way the world ends." Seven and Picard turned and saw the oddly-clad figure on a throne descending towards them. "This is the way the world ends," he said, a few laughs from the crowd being heard at his approach.
Picard gritted his teeth and looked at the figure with absolute malice. "Q."
"Not with a bang," Q smiled, "but a whimper." And the room filled with his echoing laughter.
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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I haven't decided yet, to tell the truth. In their cases it really would be more like an SE, because I don't think they were poor like WWE was, but there are a few places where they could use some polishing. The whole Melphin bit would probably go right out the torpedo tube and some better justification for Sith Luke going to the Solo's apartment.Ender wrote:Are we going to see Special Edition versions of SotN and AAO as well? Or just WWE because you hadn't thought out the whole series when you wrote it?
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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If SotN were like Hitch-hiker's Guide To The Galaxy, it'd work a lot better, but tonally it just doesn't fit in with that story. Still, there's no guarantee it's even going to happen; WWEr 40 is going to be a bear, so all my creative energies are being readied for that.Ender wrote:Aww, but I liked Melphin. Just a bunch of poor schmucks bent on galactic domination... only to get squished by the movement of history.
Chuck
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Sonnenburg
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Part XXX
Picard didn't bother to hide his irritation as he looked up at Q, hovering on his throne above him and the jeering crowd. At the best of times, Q was a nuisance, but right now he was a problem Picard had no interest in dealing with. "Whatever your game is this time, Q," he called over the jeers of the crowd, "I'm not interested in playing.
"I'm afraid it's far too late to back out now, mon capitaine," Q said, steepling his fingers before him. "You're already playing... up to your elbows in it, figuratively speaking. And speaking of figures..." his throne swooped down to where Seven of Nine stood. "Quite a nice little piece of eye candy you found, Jean-luc, although she's a bit young for you, don't you think?" The crowd laughed the unfriendly laugh of a mob. Despite that, Seven remained stoic in the face of his taunts. "Still, I imagine a former drone must be quite a prize, something to brag to the boys about, hey mon capitaine?"
"Your juvenile behavior is distasteful, if not unexpected," Picard said. "Lieutenant Seven of Nine is my colleague-"
"Seven of Nine?" Q said in mock shock. "And where oh where do you keep the other eight? Share them out with your friends?" The crowd seemed to appreciate that one.
"Q," Picard rumbled, "your insults are one thing, but your implications-"
"Captain," Seven interrupted, "it is all right. I am familiar with this individual; his empty words neither harm nor provoke me." She turned back to him. "Species 47, the Borg encountered him fifty thousand years ago."
"Ah the Borg, what a fascinating species," Q said. "I should introduce you two... oh wait, I forgot, I already have."
"Q," Picard shouted, his patience gone, "what do you want?"
"To discuss the future, Jean-luc," Q replied, lounging back in his chair. "The time has come, once again, to test your arrogant little species."
Picard had suspected this was coming. "We have demonstrated to you, twice, that humanity was no longer the barbarians you claimed it to be."
"No, only once," Q said as he leaned forward and shook a finger. "The second time you demonstrated a barely measurable glimmer of possibility for intellectual growth. But that's neither here nor there." He lounged back on his throne again. "You claimed that humanity had changed, that it now had convictions. It is this claim we are now putting to the test."
"You will find the captain a superior example of human convictions," Seven replied. Picard had to admit, he appreciated her loyalty.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Q said.
"Help me!" came a cry from nearby, and they all turned to see another Seven of Nine, lying on the floor in agony while another Picard watched her. "Please, captain, please stop the pain!"
"Yes, he's quite the example, isn't he," Q said, savoring the sight.
Seven -the real Seven- looked at the scene, then at Picard. He couldn't cover over his embarrassment. She turned back to Q. "Forgiveness," she said, "is another human conviction. The captain showed remorse, and I forgave him. You have no right to judge him for something that I refuse to hold against him."
"Right?" Q said. "Right?! I have every right to judge in my court! And you, little drone, are out of order!" Seven's eyes glazed over and she slowly leaned forward at the waist, revealing a large metal key at her back, winding down and stopping.
Picard looked at her with horror and turned back to Q. "Fix her, now!"
"No," Q said, the word dripping from his mouth like molasses. "I'd prefer to discuss this alone, if you don't mind."
"Alone?" Picard said, looking around at the jeering crowd.
Q smiled. "Point taken," he said, and snapped his fingers.
Picard looked around, and the court was gone. There were stars overhead and an asteroid underfoot. Q stood nearby, back in a Starfleet uniform and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "This is much more like it," he said. "Just the two of us, eh buddy?" He put an arm around Picard and pulled him close like they were old chums, but Picard slipped out of the grip. "Oh don't worry," Q said, "there's no one to see or hear us... at least, not any more."
"Where are we?" Picard demanded.
"Why Jean-luc, don't you recognize it? Why you spent quite a bit of time here a few years ago. Oh, but then, that was before the Empire decided to fix up the place." He stepped back. "Welcome to Cardassia Prime!" he said, gesturing like an overexcited tour guide.
Picard looked at the tiny asteroid they were on. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I suppose I should call it the remains of Cardassia Prime," Q admitted. "Still, things change, planets explode, stars collapse, new ones are born... Who knows, Picard... give it a little time, perhaps there will be a Cardassia Prime once again."
"You're showing me the future," Picard said.
Q laughed. "NO! Not yet! First the present, Picard. Without knowing that, the future, well, that would only confuse you. This is Cardassia Prime, or at least the charred remains left after the Federation-Imperial attack earlier today."
Picard looked beyond and saw the expanding asteroid field, his stomach tightening at the sight. "No," he said under his breath. "That's not possible."
"I'm sure the Cardassians that have been turned into random gaseous patterns will find great comfort in that remark," Q said. "Yes, yes, humanity certainly has moved beyond its barbaric ways. You merely aided in the destruction of 2.3 billion men, women, and children. Practically charity, when you get down to it."
Picard turned to face Q, his face betraying his dread. "How did this happen?"
"Well, that depends on what you mean," Q replied. "If you're interested in the precise mechanics, a hypermatter reactor on board an Imperial battlestation generated a powerful energy beam, which struck the planet and blew it to pieces." He made a little exploding gesture with his hands. "If you mean how the station was allowed to get there in the first place, well, I'm afraid we must point once again at our old friend, humanity."
Picard couldn't look Q in the face. If it was true, then Q was right. "We never realized-"
"Never realized?!" Q said in exasperation. "Of course not! You never even bothered examining the ethics of your new allies, and you ignored the evidence that was right under your nose! They blew up Halva and you never saw through it! They blew up Deep Space 9, and you never saw through it! There's a phrase for that: willful blindness."
"We were misled," Picard said weakly.
"Yes!" Q said, eyes blazing with accusation. "You didn't want to see the truth, and I don't just mean humanity, I mean you personally. You ignored every piece of evidence that portrayed the Empire as the ruthless, amoral government it is, and for what? Military allies? New toys?" Q folded his arms and shook his head. "And you actually have the gall to lecture your little drone on the subject of Faust, when even he would have balked at the deal you've struck."
"Yes," Picard admitted. "Yes, there was evidence... but you cannot fault us for our ignorance."
"I can if you were ignorant by choice, Picard," Q said. "How many times did Will 'not-by-the-hair-of-my-chinny-chin-chin' Riker warn you about them, and how many times did you act like he was just a pitiful paranoid fool." He shook his head. "And let's not forget that even when you finally snapped out of your little delirium how Starfleet Command embraced the New Order hook, line, and sinker."
Even Picard had to admit that Starfleet Command was being willfully blind, but he wasn't going to allow Q the satisfaction. "Their only concern is in protecting the Federation."
"Picard, it was one of your own people who said: 'Those who would sacrifice a little freedom for security is deserving of neither.' I'm afraid his words are rather prophetic in this case."
"What do you mean?" Picard asked. And suddenly, the view of space shifted. They were still on the asteroid, but this time they were near McKinley Station, or rather, what used to be McKinley Station. The area was filled with TIE fighters and Star Destroyers, and the station had been heavily modified. Picard saw two small Federation vessels fly through the area.
"Congratulations," Q said, his voice clear he didn't mean it. "Your alliance was a complete success. With the destruction of the Cardassian homeworld their fleet will collapse in weeks. The Romulans will manage a whole six months before they too are overwhelmed and destroyed. What few Rebels do survive will disappear back to their own galaxy, and that will be the end." Q turned back to face him. "You must be quite, quite proud. This is the future, Jean-luc, five years to be exact, and as you can see, a lot has changed. The Federation Council and Klingon High Council have been removed from power by martial authority. Starfleet has been reduced to a handful of unarmed exploration vessels. All resources are funneled into the Imperial war machine to help accelerate the Dominion campaign." He turned back to the scene again, nodding with approval. "Yes, you've finally done it, mon capitaine. You've ensured that no one will ever invade the Federation... because no one would dare risk the wrath of those who hold their leash."
"No," Picard said, wanting to deny the scene before him. "No, I won't accept that. Humanity will not stand by and let our freedoms be taken away, not without resisting."
"Yes," Q said quietly. "Yes, you will resist." As if on cue, a massive round battlestation appeared out of hyperspace. "They call it the Death Star," Q explained. "Quite a name, eh Picard?" The other ships in orbit pulled away and vanished. "'This is the way the world ends,'" Q said. "Not with a bang, since there's no sound in space, although if there were I'm sure it would be quite loud."
"What's happening?" Picard asked, watching the green beams form on the Death Star's dish.
"Don't take it too hard, Jean-luc," Q said soothingly. "All worlds must end eventually."
The beam lanced out and struck that gorgeous blue-green world. Picard ran forward, screaming "NO!" as he realized what was happening. His scream was drowned out by the explosion of his homeworld. Fragments tore through space... one grew very large very fast, and suddenly all was black.
And just as suddenly, there was light again, and Picard was standing in Q's courtroom. The mob was gone, but Seven was still there, although still motionless. Q was back on his throne in full dress, hovering over Picard. "You claimed humanity had principles," Q said, his voice quiet, but filled with righteous judgment. "We have tested your principles, and found them wanting."
Picard couldn't argue with him. He'd known humanity was flawed ever since his shameful incident with Seven... this merely showed where it would lead them. Still... "You tested us," Picard said. "Meaning you are responsible for the situation?"
Q looked down slightly, for the moment his smugness gone. "I created the wormhole," he admitted. "The choices, however, were your own." He straightened himself up. "The Continuum believes you've failed this test, and failed fatally."
"So why am I here?" Picard asked. "So you can gloat?"
"Really, Picard, how ungrateful. I'm here to warn you, and you insult me."
"Why bother, if we've already failed?"
Q leaned down and smiled. "Because I think you might just pull it off after all, Picard. I don't know why, I must be getting soppy."
"I'll tell all I can," Picard said emphatically. "We'll fight them, drive them ba-"
"No no NO!" Q interrupted. "You can't overpower them, Picard, can't you see that?! Those star destroyers are a small fraction of the number they possess, and their fleet numbers in the millions," the last word oozed from his mouth. "Sorry, mon capitaine, but if that's your answer, I'm afraid you've already lost."
"Well what then," Picard demanded, his voice mixed with desperation and agitation.
"You'll have to find that out for yourself," Q called as his chair began hovering back and away from Picard. "And you'd better hurry, the stakes are far higher than you know... if you lose, not only will Earth be destroyed, but you'll rob the galaxy of the one hope it has for universal peace."
Picard watched Q vanish, then walked over to where Seven stood. She didn't respond, so in desperation he grabbed the metal key in both hands and turned it. After several cranks she stood up straight, looking confused. "Captain?"
"Are you all right?" he asked as the key faded from her back.
"I am fine," she said. "What has happened?"
The courtroom faded back into the courtyard of Starfleet Command. "We've been given a warning," Picard said. "Things are even worse than we thought." He could shake the melancholy that had settled over him. "And I only hope that it's not too late."
Picard didn't bother to hide his irritation as he looked up at Q, hovering on his throne above him and the jeering crowd. At the best of times, Q was a nuisance, but right now he was a problem Picard had no interest in dealing with. "Whatever your game is this time, Q," he called over the jeers of the crowd, "I'm not interested in playing.
"I'm afraid it's far too late to back out now, mon capitaine," Q said, steepling his fingers before him. "You're already playing... up to your elbows in it, figuratively speaking. And speaking of figures..." his throne swooped down to where Seven of Nine stood. "Quite a nice little piece of eye candy you found, Jean-luc, although she's a bit young for you, don't you think?" The crowd laughed the unfriendly laugh of a mob. Despite that, Seven remained stoic in the face of his taunts. "Still, I imagine a former drone must be quite a prize, something to brag to the boys about, hey mon capitaine?"
"Your juvenile behavior is distasteful, if not unexpected," Picard said. "Lieutenant Seven of Nine is my colleague-"
"Seven of Nine?" Q said in mock shock. "And where oh where do you keep the other eight? Share them out with your friends?" The crowd seemed to appreciate that one.
"Q," Picard rumbled, "your insults are one thing, but your implications-"
"Captain," Seven interrupted, "it is all right. I am familiar with this individual; his empty words neither harm nor provoke me." She turned back to him. "Species 47, the Borg encountered him fifty thousand years ago."
"Ah the Borg, what a fascinating species," Q said. "I should introduce you two... oh wait, I forgot, I already have."
"Q," Picard shouted, his patience gone, "what do you want?"
"To discuss the future, Jean-luc," Q replied, lounging back in his chair. "The time has come, once again, to test your arrogant little species."
Picard had suspected this was coming. "We have demonstrated to you, twice, that humanity was no longer the barbarians you claimed it to be."
"No, only once," Q said as he leaned forward and shook a finger. "The second time you demonstrated a barely measurable glimmer of possibility for intellectual growth. But that's neither here nor there." He lounged back on his throne again. "You claimed that humanity had changed, that it now had convictions. It is this claim we are now putting to the test."
"You will find the captain a superior example of human convictions," Seven replied. Picard had to admit, he appreciated her loyalty.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure," Q said.
"Help me!" came a cry from nearby, and they all turned to see another Seven of Nine, lying on the floor in agony while another Picard watched her. "Please, captain, please stop the pain!"
"Yes, he's quite the example, isn't he," Q said, savoring the sight.
Seven -the real Seven- looked at the scene, then at Picard. He couldn't cover over his embarrassment. She turned back to Q. "Forgiveness," she said, "is another human conviction. The captain showed remorse, and I forgave him. You have no right to judge him for something that I refuse to hold against him."
"Right?" Q said. "Right?! I have every right to judge in my court! And you, little drone, are out of order!" Seven's eyes glazed over and she slowly leaned forward at the waist, revealing a large metal key at her back, winding down and stopping.
Picard looked at her with horror and turned back to Q. "Fix her, now!"
"No," Q said, the word dripping from his mouth like molasses. "I'd prefer to discuss this alone, if you don't mind."
"Alone?" Picard said, looking around at the jeering crowd.
Q smiled. "Point taken," he said, and snapped his fingers.
Picard looked around, and the court was gone. There were stars overhead and an asteroid underfoot. Q stood nearby, back in a Starfleet uniform and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "This is much more like it," he said. "Just the two of us, eh buddy?" He put an arm around Picard and pulled him close like they were old chums, but Picard slipped out of the grip. "Oh don't worry," Q said, "there's no one to see or hear us... at least, not any more."
"Where are we?" Picard demanded.
"Why Jean-luc, don't you recognize it? Why you spent quite a bit of time here a few years ago. Oh, but then, that was before the Empire decided to fix up the place." He stepped back. "Welcome to Cardassia Prime!" he said, gesturing like an overexcited tour guide.
Picard looked at the tiny asteroid they were on. "What are you talking about?"
"Well, I suppose I should call it the remains of Cardassia Prime," Q admitted. "Still, things change, planets explode, stars collapse, new ones are born... Who knows, Picard... give it a little time, perhaps there will be a Cardassia Prime once again."
"You're showing me the future," Picard said.
Q laughed. "NO! Not yet! First the present, Picard. Without knowing that, the future, well, that would only confuse you. This is Cardassia Prime, or at least the charred remains left after the Federation-Imperial attack earlier today."
Picard looked beyond and saw the expanding asteroid field, his stomach tightening at the sight. "No," he said under his breath. "That's not possible."
"I'm sure the Cardassians that have been turned into random gaseous patterns will find great comfort in that remark," Q said. "Yes, yes, humanity certainly has moved beyond its barbaric ways. You merely aided in the destruction of 2.3 billion men, women, and children. Practically charity, when you get down to it."
Picard turned to face Q, his face betraying his dread. "How did this happen?"
"Well, that depends on what you mean," Q replied. "If you're interested in the precise mechanics, a hypermatter reactor on board an Imperial battlestation generated a powerful energy beam, which struck the planet and blew it to pieces." He made a little exploding gesture with his hands. "If you mean how the station was allowed to get there in the first place, well, I'm afraid we must point once again at our old friend, humanity."
Picard couldn't look Q in the face. If it was true, then Q was right. "We never realized-"
"Never realized?!" Q said in exasperation. "Of course not! You never even bothered examining the ethics of your new allies, and you ignored the evidence that was right under your nose! They blew up Halva and you never saw through it! They blew up Deep Space 9, and you never saw through it! There's a phrase for that: willful blindness."
"We were misled," Picard said weakly.
"Yes!" Q said, eyes blazing with accusation. "You didn't want to see the truth, and I don't just mean humanity, I mean you personally. You ignored every piece of evidence that portrayed the Empire as the ruthless, amoral government it is, and for what? Military allies? New toys?" Q folded his arms and shook his head. "And you actually have the gall to lecture your little drone on the subject of Faust, when even he would have balked at the deal you've struck."
"Yes," Picard admitted. "Yes, there was evidence... but you cannot fault us for our ignorance."
"I can if you were ignorant by choice, Picard," Q said. "How many times did Will 'not-by-the-hair-of-my-chinny-chin-chin' Riker warn you about them, and how many times did you act like he was just a pitiful paranoid fool." He shook his head. "And let's not forget that even when you finally snapped out of your little delirium how Starfleet Command embraced the New Order hook, line, and sinker."
Even Picard had to admit that Starfleet Command was being willfully blind, but he wasn't going to allow Q the satisfaction. "Their only concern is in protecting the Federation."
"Picard, it was one of your own people who said: 'Those who would sacrifice a little freedom for security is deserving of neither.' I'm afraid his words are rather prophetic in this case."
"What do you mean?" Picard asked. And suddenly, the view of space shifted. They were still on the asteroid, but this time they were near McKinley Station, or rather, what used to be McKinley Station. The area was filled with TIE fighters and Star Destroyers, and the station had been heavily modified. Picard saw two small Federation vessels fly through the area.
"Congratulations," Q said, his voice clear he didn't mean it. "Your alliance was a complete success. With the destruction of the Cardassian homeworld their fleet will collapse in weeks. The Romulans will manage a whole six months before they too are overwhelmed and destroyed. What few Rebels do survive will disappear back to their own galaxy, and that will be the end." Q turned back to face him. "You must be quite, quite proud. This is the future, Jean-luc, five years to be exact, and as you can see, a lot has changed. The Federation Council and Klingon High Council have been removed from power by martial authority. Starfleet has been reduced to a handful of unarmed exploration vessels. All resources are funneled into the Imperial war machine to help accelerate the Dominion campaign." He turned back to the scene again, nodding with approval. "Yes, you've finally done it, mon capitaine. You've ensured that no one will ever invade the Federation... because no one would dare risk the wrath of those who hold their leash."
"No," Picard said, wanting to deny the scene before him. "No, I won't accept that. Humanity will not stand by and let our freedoms be taken away, not without resisting."
"Yes," Q said quietly. "Yes, you will resist." As if on cue, a massive round battlestation appeared out of hyperspace. "They call it the Death Star," Q explained. "Quite a name, eh Picard?" The other ships in orbit pulled away and vanished. "'This is the way the world ends,'" Q said. "Not with a bang, since there's no sound in space, although if there were I'm sure it would be quite loud."
"What's happening?" Picard asked, watching the green beams form on the Death Star's dish.
"Don't take it too hard, Jean-luc," Q said soothingly. "All worlds must end eventually."
The beam lanced out and struck that gorgeous blue-green world. Picard ran forward, screaming "NO!" as he realized what was happening. His scream was drowned out by the explosion of his homeworld. Fragments tore through space... one grew very large very fast, and suddenly all was black.
And just as suddenly, there was light again, and Picard was standing in Q's courtroom. The mob was gone, but Seven was still there, although still motionless. Q was back on his throne in full dress, hovering over Picard. "You claimed humanity had principles," Q said, his voice quiet, but filled with righteous judgment. "We have tested your principles, and found them wanting."
Picard couldn't argue with him. He'd known humanity was flawed ever since his shameful incident with Seven... this merely showed where it would lead them. Still... "You tested us," Picard said. "Meaning you are responsible for the situation?"
Q looked down slightly, for the moment his smugness gone. "I created the wormhole," he admitted. "The choices, however, were your own." He straightened himself up. "The Continuum believes you've failed this test, and failed fatally."
"So why am I here?" Picard asked. "So you can gloat?"
"Really, Picard, how ungrateful. I'm here to warn you, and you insult me."
"Why bother, if we've already failed?"
Q leaned down and smiled. "Because I think you might just pull it off after all, Picard. I don't know why, I must be getting soppy."
"I'll tell all I can," Picard said emphatically. "We'll fight them, drive them ba-"
"No no NO!" Q interrupted. "You can't overpower them, Picard, can't you see that?! Those star destroyers are a small fraction of the number they possess, and their fleet numbers in the millions," the last word oozed from his mouth. "Sorry, mon capitaine, but if that's your answer, I'm afraid you've already lost."
"Well what then," Picard demanded, his voice mixed with desperation and agitation.
"You'll have to find that out for yourself," Q called as his chair began hovering back and away from Picard. "And you'd better hurry, the stakes are far higher than you know... if you lose, not only will Earth be destroyed, but you'll rob the galaxy of the one hope it has for universal peace."
Picard watched Q vanish, then walked over to where Seven stood. She didn't respond, so in desperation he grabbed the metal key in both hands and turned it. After several cranks she stood up straight, looking confused. "Captain?"
"Are you all right?" he asked as the key faded from her back.
"I am fine," she said. "What has happened?"
The courtroom faded back into the courtyard of Starfleet Command. "We've been given a warning," Picard said. "Things are even worse than we thought." He could shake the melancholy that had settled over him. "And I only hope that it's not too late."
Chuck
-
Star Empire
- Padawan Learner
- Posts: 242
- Joined: 2004-11-30 10:48pm
- Location: Columbus, Ohio
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Q is always a fun character to write, because he cares nothing for how other people feel, and usually is up to something nefarious at the same time. He reminds me of Dr. House's philosophy on people, that they're like chemicals: if you want the truth, mix 'em up and apply heat and observe the reaction.
Chuck
-
Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
Part XXXI
Seven was in Science Room 1, setting up for the meeting Captain Picard had called. The room was to be completely bug-proof for their conversation, and given what they’d learned, she could understand that fully. She sealed the room just to be safe, but there are some things that even the best locks can’t keep out.
“And how are you holding up, little drone?” Q asked as he materialized behind her.
Seven didn’t even bother turning to face him. “You are wasting your time with me, Q. You should recall the Borg are not a source of amusement.”
“Yes, they’re not... but you’re not a Borg. Oh, everyone likes to call you one, but underneath all those enhancements you’re just a human.” He brought his mouth down by her ear. “That means this is your test as much as anyone’s,” he said quietly.
“I am not interested in the opinions of the Continuum,” Seven said.
“Really? What a shame, considering how much interest we have in you.” Seven slowed a little in her work. “You’re an interesting specimen for humanity... something of a blank slate, with their lessons being stenciled onto you. Some things you embrace so wholeheartedly, and others, well, you seem rather conflicted.”
“I don’t wish to speak with you,” Seven said; there was clear annoyance in her tone.
Q hopped up on the table nearby. “What’s it like when you think about your Rebel friend?” he asked casually. Seven ceased her work, knowing concentration would be impossible. “Do you get a little funny feeling in your belly? A little pain, but it feels good too?”
“The Q have the ability to traverse all of time and space,” Seven said, turning to face him. “I fail to understand why you persist in giving the Enterprise your attention.”
“Perhaps they are simply amusing?” Q said. “Or I’ve taken a shine to them –you’d appreciate that.” He leaned forward. “Or maybe that in all of time and all of space, I am paying attention to something that’s actually important.”
“Taunting me-“
“Not taunts, Ms. Hansen, no no. I want to understand you... you’re far more important than you might think.”
“How?” Seven asked.
“I can’t tell you that, but you’ll discover it in time,” Q said. “Getting back to my question-“
“My thoughts are none of your concern,” Seven said sharply.
“So you do think about him,” Q said. Seven fumed and turned back to her work. “Tell me, which of your secrets do you most fear him discovering? They can both be potentially embarrassing. First impressions are lasting ones, they say, and to think that his first impression of you wasn’t really you at all.”
“Leave me alone,” Seven growled.
“But then again,” Q went on, “that other secret is interesting. People think they know everything about what the Borg do to you. They add things to your body, implants and probes and devices, enhancing your strength and stamina and reflexes and thought processes, and they take away your individuality...” he leaned back to Seven’s ear again. “...along with other things.” Seven closed her eyes and hung her head a little. “Not a well-known fact about what happens to the female of the species, is it? That’s why you call yourself Borg, yes? Because no matter how far you ever get from the Collective, that change can never, ever, be undone. How does that make you feel inside, to know they destroyed your chance to-“ Seven whirled around and punched Q hard across the face. She was seething where she stood. He touched his cheek, and a grin spread across his face. “It seems I’ve hit a nerve,” he said in a low voice.
“Get out,” Seven said in a voice that would cause a berserker Klingon to pause.
“You may want to rethink the Rebel,” Q said. “He has a secret too, though you’d never believe it.”
“With reason,” Seven said darkly.
“His file that you read is incorrect... he knows who his biological father is.”
“Irrelevant.”
“I don’t think so... his father’s name is.... well, let’s just say that when the offer came for him to join the Empire, daddy thought it was a chance to get involved in the family business.”
“You expect me to believe he’s the son of Lord Vader?”
Q grinned. “Everyone has secrets, Ms. Hansen. You may want to reconsider your little crush on him... I promise you, even if you overcame your stifling inhibitions and brought all your adolescent fantasies to life, he'll still cause you more pain than you can possibly imagine." He turned and walked away. "You might just be better off letting her handle things from now on," he said. "She seemed to manage well enough." Then he disappeared through the wall.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Deanna Troi nodded as Seven finished telling her about the event. "Q is very good at knowing the right words to cause the maximum anguish," she said. Seven nodded distantly. "How long have you felt this way? About this man?"
"For some time," Seven said. "I- I did not wish for others to know."
"I'll keep this between us, Seven, I promise," Troi said. "I can sense, however, that there's something you're not telling me. I don't wish to pry, but it may provide some insight into your reaction."
Seven nodded, but a dark shadow seemed to hover over her. "Q is correct, I do have a secret, one known only to the captain, Dr. Crusher, and the Doctor on Voyager."
"Something medical," Troi said. "Something the Borg did to you." Seven nodded as she bit her lip. "Is it embarrassing? Is that why it's a secret?"
"No." She covered her eyes as she looked down. "It's..." Her shoulders shook. "How could he ever want someone like me?" she said quietly. "A drone..."
"You're not a drone, Seven," Troi said. "You're an individual now."
"I am," Seven insisted. "And that means there's one thing I could never give him."
Troi had a feeling Seven knew as much as she did that Q was right, that this was just a little crush, but Seven had never had that experience before. It was dredging up her sexual anxieties; it was just a catalyst for something that obviously had been bothering her for a long time. That it could drive the normally withdrawn Seven to literally lash out at Q said it was something serious. "Seven," she said. "You are beautiful and intelligent and loyal; most men would fall over themselves to be with you. And clearly you have the capacity in you to love someone."
"I am a drone," Seven said.
"No you're not," Troi said emphatically.
"You know nothing!" Seven shouted at her. "I-" The word seemed to crack in her throat. "I am not a queen... I am... just a part of the hive."
Troi was about to respond when the implication started shifting through her mind. Hive... not a Borg hive, but like a hive with bees or ants. The drones serve the queen, serve the hive... Things clicked into place. Female. The drones were female... and they were- "Oh Seven," she said, her heart going out to the poor girl.
Seven nodded bitterly. "I am a drone," she said.
"There's nothing they can do?" Troi asked.
"My reproductive system has been irreversible damaged," Seven said. "There is nothing that can be done. No matter how human I may ever become, that part will never change." She shivered. "And as I move closer towards re-embracing my humanity, the thought of never bearing a child of my own fills me with despair."
"Seven," Troi said, "we're talking about your body, and the Borg have performed an abominable violation of it. Your feelings are understandable, natural. But at the same time, don't become so focused on it that you refuse to see what else is out there. Anyone who loved you –truly loved you– will see beyond this. Look at me." Seven did so. "You are still capable of having a complete emotional, physical, and spiritual relationship with someone. Don't let the Borg take that away as well." The alarm sounded and Troi cursed herself for not turning it off.
"Thank you, Counselor," Seven said, getting up. "I will reflect on what you have said."
"Seven," Troi said getting up, "you..." but Seven walked double time out the door. She decided to go after her; the doors opened, and she let out a small cry of shock. "Data," she said eventually. "Sorry, I didn't sense you coming. Is something wrong with your emotion chip?"
"I have deactivated it temporarily," Data replied. "In the wake of my experience with Starfleet Command, I have found myself experiencing a great deal of powerful emotions. While they are intriguing sensations, it was interfering with my duties, so I have decided to deactivate it until I was better able to resolve them."
"Data," Troi replied, "you can't just rationalize your feelings away. If you ever turn on your emotion chip again you'll be in exactly the same position. Part of being human is coping with your emotions. I think the best thing you can do is reactivate your emotion chip right now."
Data thought about this. "Very well," he said. "When I go off duty."
"All right," Troi said compromising, "but I want you to come see me then. What was it you wanted?"
"Lieutenant Commander Sullice asked me to inform you that she will be unable to join you on the holodeck at 1400 hours as you had planned. The integration of the new equipment into the Enterprise is demanding more time than she had anticipated."
"Very well," Troi replied with a sigh. The alarm not only interrupts the session, but for no good reason. "I suppose I'll go and have fun by myself, unless you'd like to come Data?"
"I'm afraid I also have duties," Data replied.
Troi blinked. "What did you say?"
"I am afraid I also have duties," Data repeated.
"No, Data, you said, 'I'm'."
Data thought for a moment. "No Counselor, I have a full memory of our conversation, and I said 'I am'."
"Are you sure?" Troi asked. Data stared, unblinking. "Nevermind." Data nodded and left. Troi shook her head; with all that was happening, she was spending a great deal more time seeing to the emotional well-being of the crew. It wasn't surprising that the stress was getting to her. Maybe a little solitude is just what I needed, she thought as she grabbed a bathing suit and headed for the holodeck.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Han walked into the small room where Leia was resting between discussions with the other officials. The past two months had been draining for all of them, but Han knew the weight must have been especially heavy on her shoulders. He wished she could find someone else to help her with this job, but it didn't look like that would be happening any time soon. The nearest help was on the other side of an Imperial-guarded wormhole. He looked down and saw her sitting on the floor in meditation. He debated whether or not he should disturb her. Her eyes popped open. "What's the news," she asked suddenly, making Han jump.
"We managed to save thirteen of the Cardassian ships gathered in," he said when he'd recovered, "'Sector something something in the something system'. Anyway, not only did they arrive safe and sound, but two more Federation ships decided to join the good guys."
Leia nodded as she stood up. "I was speaking with Capt. Price earlier," she said, "and apparently we're gaining more and more support amongst the Federation. We can expect more defections, and possibly even a coup."
"Good," Han replied, taking a seat. "Now all we have to do is survive that long."
Leia could sense the remark carried more than just his usual cynicism. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Han said with a dismissive wave, "just a war that's all."
Leia took his hand and held it tightly. "Hey, who are you talking to here?"
Han looked into her face and then looked away. Finally, he began speaking. "I remember when I landed on Yavin. I took a look around, and all I could think was that just one hit, and all of this would be gone. Just one second, and..." he made a motion like he was blowing dust out of his hand. "I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable on the ground while one of those things are flying around up there, pointing superlasers at us."
"With good reason," Leia admitted. No one could appreciate a Death Star like she could, but Han came about as close as anyone. "Fortunately, Price thinks she has a line on some Federation sympathizers that could deal with that thing once and for all."
"Who?"
"She wouldn't say; said security was too great an issue on this, but she said that if anybody could do it, these people could."
--------------------------------------------------------------
Captain Picard sealed the door to Science Room 1. Data, Seven, and Riker were already waiting for him. "Is the room secure, lieutenant?"
"Yes sir," Seven said. "I have eliminated all possible ways for anyone to monitor us, and a thorough examination has revealed no hidden means." She ran a tricorder over Picard. "And it appears none of us have unwittingly brought any in with us," she said, closing it up.
"What about command override?" Picard asked.
"I have physically bypassed all command overrides," Seven said.
"Well done," Picard said. "Until further notice, I want this room kept sealed so that no one but the four of us may enter. This is critical, especially where we're still in Spacedock. Anyone can be wandering around the ship, and we dare not risk being found out."
"What about Starfleet Command, sir?" Data asked. Members of the group were on board the Enterprise. Officially, it was to see the refits in person. Unofficially, it was to keep an eye on Picard. "They may wish to inspect this room."
"Yes, well, we'll cross that bridge if we have to," Picard said, his tone making it clear he hoped they never would.
"Sir," Riker said, "what's so important that we need to take these kinds of precautions? Are you planning a defection?"
"Let's hope it never comes to that, Number One," Picard said in the same tone. "But no. I'm asking you to- Look, let's make no mistake. What you're told now will be the greatest secret you'll ever be asked to keep. You can never discuss it outside these walls, ever, and if anyone discovered what you were doing, it'd likely mean the end of your careers. Are you ready to commit to that?" He turned to Riker.
"After all these years?" Riker said. "You know you never need to ask. I'm in."
"As am I, sir," Data said.
"As I said," Seven said, "I trust in your judgment, captain."
"Thank you, all of you." He held up an Imperial datapad. "Lieutenant, you might be interested to learn that your trip to the delta quadrant wasn't a wasted effort. It seems that if it were not for your performance, Alliance agents wouldn't have been able to get us this." He keyed it on; the trio stared.
"Is that..." Riker started, but didn't finish.
"The complete technical schematics of the Death Star," Picard said. "There's a great many people looking this information over, but Captain Price knew of our reputation. Data, Seven, you know more about Imperial technology than anyone in the Federation, and are among the finest minds in Starfleet. I told her that if anyone can find a weakness in its defenses, it was you two. You are the best."
"Thank you, sir," Data said, and Seven nodded as well.
"Are we searching for a tactical advantage, sir?" Riker asked.
"Possibly. But the Death Star is a very, very powerful weapon; the previous one was destroyed simply by using its own reactor against it. While that flaw has been corrected, we're hopeful that some other means of initiating some kind of catastrophic failure could be found."
"We will do everything we can, sir," Seven promised.
"I know you will," Picard said. "You all know what Q said... the Federation will never be safe while that weapon still exists." He held out the datapad to Riker, who took it. The trio started looking the information over while Picard left. He knew he was doing the right thing, but still, it was hard to shake the feeling that he was a traitor. He slowed as he saw Laforge come running up the hall towards him. That had tweaked his conscience a little too; Geordi was completely reliable and an asset, but with the new refits going on it would be suspicious for him to be working on anything else. "Mr. Laforge," he said as the man called out for him. "What is it?"
"I couldn't reach you directly, sir. Some kind of problem with the communication system-"
"Never mind. What's so important?"
"It's Counselor Troi, sir," Laforge replied. "She's dead!"
Seven was in Science Room 1, setting up for the meeting Captain Picard had called. The room was to be completely bug-proof for their conversation, and given what they’d learned, she could understand that fully. She sealed the room just to be safe, but there are some things that even the best locks can’t keep out.
“And how are you holding up, little drone?” Q asked as he materialized behind her.
Seven didn’t even bother turning to face him. “You are wasting your time with me, Q. You should recall the Borg are not a source of amusement.”
“Yes, they’re not... but you’re not a Borg. Oh, everyone likes to call you one, but underneath all those enhancements you’re just a human.” He brought his mouth down by her ear. “That means this is your test as much as anyone’s,” he said quietly.
“I am not interested in the opinions of the Continuum,” Seven said.
“Really? What a shame, considering how much interest we have in you.” Seven slowed a little in her work. “You’re an interesting specimen for humanity... something of a blank slate, with their lessons being stenciled onto you. Some things you embrace so wholeheartedly, and others, well, you seem rather conflicted.”
“I don’t wish to speak with you,” Seven said; there was clear annoyance in her tone.
Q hopped up on the table nearby. “What’s it like when you think about your Rebel friend?” he asked casually. Seven ceased her work, knowing concentration would be impossible. “Do you get a little funny feeling in your belly? A little pain, but it feels good too?”
“The Q have the ability to traverse all of time and space,” Seven said, turning to face him. “I fail to understand why you persist in giving the Enterprise your attention.”
“Perhaps they are simply amusing?” Q said. “Or I’ve taken a shine to them –you’d appreciate that.” He leaned forward. “Or maybe that in all of time and all of space, I am paying attention to something that’s actually important.”
“Taunting me-“
“Not taunts, Ms. Hansen, no no. I want to understand you... you’re far more important than you might think.”
“How?” Seven asked.
“I can’t tell you that, but you’ll discover it in time,” Q said. “Getting back to my question-“
“My thoughts are none of your concern,” Seven said sharply.
“So you do think about him,” Q said. Seven fumed and turned back to her work. “Tell me, which of your secrets do you most fear him discovering? They can both be potentially embarrassing. First impressions are lasting ones, they say, and to think that his first impression of you wasn’t really you at all.”
“Leave me alone,” Seven growled.
“But then again,” Q went on, “that other secret is interesting. People think they know everything about what the Borg do to you. They add things to your body, implants and probes and devices, enhancing your strength and stamina and reflexes and thought processes, and they take away your individuality...” he leaned back to Seven’s ear again. “...along with other things.” Seven closed her eyes and hung her head a little. “Not a well-known fact about what happens to the female of the species, is it? That’s why you call yourself Borg, yes? Because no matter how far you ever get from the Collective, that change can never, ever, be undone. How does that make you feel inside, to know they destroyed your chance to-“ Seven whirled around and punched Q hard across the face. She was seething where she stood. He touched his cheek, and a grin spread across his face. “It seems I’ve hit a nerve,” he said in a low voice.
“Get out,” Seven said in a voice that would cause a berserker Klingon to pause.
“You may want to rethink the Rebel,” Q said. “He has a secret too, though you’d never believe it.”
“With reason,” Seven said darkly.
“His file that you read is incorrect... he knows who his biological father is.”
“Irrelevant.”
“I don’t think so... his father’s name is.... well, let’s just say that when the offer came for him to join the Empire, daddy thought it was a chance to get involved in the family business.”
“You expect me to believe he’s the son of Lord Vader?”
Q grinned. “Everyone has secrets, Ms. Hansen. You may want to reconsider your little crush on him... I promise you, even if you overcame your stifling inhibitions and brought all your adolescent fantasies to life, he'll still cause you more pain than you can possibly imagine." He turned and walked away. "You might just be better off letting her handle things from now on," he said. "She seemed to manage well enough." Then he disappeared through the wall.
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Deanna Troi nodded as Seven finished telling her about the event. "Q is very good at knowing the right words to cause the maximum anguish," she said. Seven nodded distantly. "How long have you felt this way? About this man?"
"For some time," Seven said. "I- I did not wish for others to know."
"I'll keep this between us, Seven, I promise," Troi said. "I can sense, however, that there's something you're not telling me. I don't wish to pry, but it may provide some insight into your reaction."
Seven nodded, but a dark shadow seemed to hover over her. "Q is correct, I do have a secret, one known only to the captain, Dr. Crusher, and the Doctor on Voyager."
"Something medical," Troi said. "Something the Borg did to you." Seven nodded as she bit her lip. "Is it embarrassing? Is that why it's a secret?"
"No." She covered her eyes as she looked down. "It's..." Her shoulders shook. "How could he ever want someone like me?" she said quietly. "A drone..."
"You're not a drone, Seven," Troi said. "You're an individual now."
"I am," Seven insisted. "And that means there's one thing I could never give him."
Troi had a feeling Seven knew as much as she did that Q was right, that this was just a little crush, but Seven had never had that experience before. It was dredging up her sexual anxieties; it was just a catalyst for something that obviously had been bothering her for a long time. That it could drive the normally withdrawn Seven to literally lash out at Q said it was something serious. "Seven," she said. "You are beautiful and intelligent and loyal; most men would fall over themselves to be with you. And clearly you have the capacity in you to love someone."
"I am a drone," Seven said.
"No you're not," Troi said emphatically.
"You know nothing!" Seven shouted at her. "I-" The word seemed to crack in her throat. "I am not a queen... I am... just a part of the hive."
Troi was about to respond when the implication started shifting through her mind. Hive... not a Borg hive, but like a hive with bees or ants. The drones serve the queen, serve the hive... Things clicked into place. Female. The drones were female... and they were- "Oh Seven," she said, her heart going out to the poor girl.
Seven nodded bitterly. "I am a drone," she said.
"There's nothing they can do?" Troi asked.
"My reproductive system has been irreversible damaged," Seven said. "There is nothing that can be done. No matter how human I may ever become, that part will never change." She shivered. "And as I move closer towards re-embracing my humanity, the thought of never bearing a child of my own fills me with despair."
"Seven," Troi said, "we're talking about your body, and the Borg have performed an abominable violation of it. Your feelings are understandable, natural. But at the same time, don't become so focused on it that you refuse to see what else is out there. Anyone who loved you –truly loved you– will see beyond this. Look at me." Seven did so. "You are still capable of having a complete emotional, physical, and spiritual relationship with someone. Don't let the Borg take that away as well." The alarm sounded and Troi cursed herself for not turning it off.
"Thank you, Counselor," Seven said, getting up. "I will reflect on what you have said."
"Seven," Troi said getting up, "you..." but Seven walked double time out the door. She decided to go after her; the doors opened, and she let out a small cry of shock. "Data," she said eventually. "Sorry, I didn't sense you coming. Is something wrong with your emotion chip?"
"I have deactivated it temporarily," Data replied. "In the wake of my experience with Starfleet Command, I have found myself experiencing a great deal of powerful emotions. While they are intriguing sensations, it was interfering with my duties, so I have decided to deactivate it until I was better able to resolve them."
"Data," Troi replied, "you can't just rationalize your feelings away. If you ever turn on your emotion chip again you'll be in exactly the same position. Part of being human is coping with your emotions. I think the best thing you can do is reactivate your emotion chip right now."
Data thought about this. "Very well," he said. "When I go off duty."
"All right," Troi said compromising, "but I want you to come see me then. What was it you wanted?"
"Lieutenant Commander Sullice asked me to inform you that she will be unable to join you on the holodeck at 1400 hours as you had planned. The integration of the new equipment into the Enterprise is demanding more time than she had anticipated."
"Very well," Troi replied with a sigh. The alarm not only interrupts the session, but for no good reason. "I suppose I'll go and have fun by myself, unless you'd like to come Data?"
"I'm afraid I also have duties," Data replied.
Troi blinked. "What did you say?"
"I am afraid I also have duties," Data repeated.
"No, Data, you said, 'I'm'."
Data thought for a moment. "No Counselor, I have a full memory of our conversation, and I said 'I am'."
"Are you sure?" Troi asked. Data stared, unblinking. "Nevermind." Data nodded and left. Troi shook her head; with all that was happening, she was spending a great deal more time seeing to the emotional well-being of the crew. It wasn't surprising that the stress was getting to her. Maybe a little solitude is just what I needed, she thought as she grabbed a bathing suit and headed for the holodeck.
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Han walked into the small room where Leia was resting between discussions with the other officials. The past two months had been draining for all of them, but Han knew the weight must have been especially heavy on her shoulders. He wished she could find someone else to help her with this job, but it didn't look like that would be happening any time soon. The nearest help was on the other side of an Imperial-guarded wormhole. He looked down and saw her sitting on the floor in meditation. He debated whether or not he should disturb her. Her eyes popped open. "What's the news," she asked suddenly, making Han jump.
"We managed to save thirteen of the Cardassian ships gathered in," he said when he'd recovered, "'Sector something something in the something system'. Anyway, not only did they arrive safe and sound, but two more Federation ships decided to join the good guys."
Leia nodded as she stood up. "I was speaking with Capt. Price earlier," she said, "and apparently we're gaining more and more support amongst the Federation. We can expect more defections, and possibly even a coup."
"Good," Han replied, taking a seat. "Now all we have to do is survive that long."
Leia could sense the remark carried more than just his usual cynicism. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Han said with a dismissive wave, "just a war that's all."
Leia took his hand and held it tightly. "Hey, who are you talking to here?"
Han looked into her face and then looked away. Finally, he began speaking. "I remember when I landed on Yavin. I took a look around, and all I could think was that just one hit, and all of this would be gone. Just one second, and..." he made a motion like he was blowing dust out of his hand. "I don't think I'll ever feel comfortable on the ground while one of those things are flying around up there, pointing superlasers at us."
"With good reason," Leia admitted. No one could appreciate a Death Star like she could, but Han came about as close as anyone. "Fortunately, Price thinks she has a line on some Federation sympathizers that could deal with that thing once and for all."
"Who?"
"She wouldn't say; said security was too great an issue on this, but she said that if anybody could do it, these people could."
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Captain Picard sealed the door to Science Room 1. Data, Seven, and Riker were already waiting for him. "Is the room secure, lieutenant?"
"Yes sir," Seven said. "I have eliminated all possible ways for anyone to monitor us, and a thorough examination has revealed no hidden means." She ran a tricorder over Picard. "And it appears none of us have unwittingly brought any in with us," she said, closing it up.
"What about command override?" Picard asked.
"I have physically bypassed all command overrides," Seven said.
"Well done," Picard said. "Until further notice, I want this room kept sealed so that no one but the four of us may enter. This is critical, especially where we're still in Spacedock. Anyone can be wandering around the ship, and we dare not risk being found out."
"What about Starfleet Command, sir?" Data asked. Members of the group were on board the Enterprise. Officially, it was to see the refits in person. Unofficially, it was to keep an eye on Picard. "They may wish to inspect this room."
"Yes, well, we'll cross that bridge if we have to," Picard said, his tone making it clear he hoped they never would.
"Sir," Riker said, "what's so important that we need to take these kinds of precautions? Are you planning a defection?"
"Let's hope it never comes to that, Number One," Picard said in the same tone. "But no. I'm asking you to- Look, let's make no mistake. What you're told now will be the greatest secret you'll ever be asked to keep. You can never discuss it outside these walls, ever, and if anyone discovered what you were doing, it'd likely mean the end of your careers. Are you ready to commit to that?" He turned to Riker.
"After all these years?" Riker said. "You know you never need to ask. I'm in."
"As am I, sir," Data said.
"As I said," Seven said, "I trust in your judgment, captain."
"Thank you, all of you." He held up an Imperial datapad. "Lieutenant, you might be interested to learn that your trip to the delta quadrant wasn't a wasted effort. It seems that if it were not for your performance, Alliance agents wouldn't have been able to get us this." He keyed it on; the trio stared.
"Is that..." Riker started, but didn't finish.
"The complete technical schematics of the Death Star," Picard said. "There's a great many people looking this information over, but Captain Price knew of our reputation. Data, Seven, you know more about Imperial technology than anyone in the Federation, and are among the finest minds in Starfleet. I told her that if anyone can find a weakness in its defenses, it was you two. You are the best."
"Thank you, sir," Data said, and Seven nodded as well.
"Are we searching for a tactical advantage, sir?" Riker asked.
"Possibly. But the Death Star is a very, very powerful weapon; the previous one was destroyed simply by using its own reactor against it. While that flaw has been corrected, we're hopeful that some other means of initiating some kind of catastrophic failure could be found."
"We will do everything we can, sir," Seven promised.
"I know you will," Picard said. "You all know what Q said... the Federation will never be safe while that weapon still exists." He held out the datapad to Riker, who took it. The trio started looking the information over while Picard left. He knew he was doing the right thing, but still, it was hard to shake the feeling that he was a traitor. He slowed as he saw Laforge come running up the hall towards him. That had tweaked his conscience a little too; Geordi was completely reliable and an asset, but with the new refits going on it would be suspicious for him to be working on anything else. "Mr. Laforge," he said as the man called out for him. "What is it?"
"I couldn't reach you directly, sir. Some kind of problem with the communication system-"
"Never mind. What's so important?"
"It's Counselor Troi, sir," Laforge replied. "She's dead!"
Chuck
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consequences
- Homicidal Maniac
- Posts: 6964
- Joined: 2002-07-07 03:06pm
That's it, I'm boycotting this series as of now, until I am informed that you have righted the most heinous wrong that you have perpetuated and allowed to fester.
That's twice you've killed Troi, and Janeway is still alive. Shame on you.
That's twice you've killed Troi, and Janeway is still alive. Shame on you.
Last edited by consequences on 2006-03-21 05:48pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Sonnenburg
- Official Dave Barry Clone
- Posts: 2305
- Joined: 2002-11-05 08:35pm
- Location: Gotham City
- Contact:
We'll discover Janeway's fate soon enough.consequences wrote:That's it, I'm boycotting this series as of now, until I am informed that you have righted the most heinous wrong that you have prerpetuated and allowed to fester.
That's twice you've killed Troi, and Janeway is still alive. Shame on you.
BTW, for anyone who wants to correct, yes I know that drones among the bees are actually male and not sterile, that what I was describing fits the worker bees, but Trek seems insistent on using the "drone" term to fit that category, so I used it here. I figured Troi would make that kind of mental connection.
Chuck
Have you not read his otehr fics dude? Janeway is far better alive.consequences wrote:That's it, I'm boycotting this series as of now, until I am informed that you have righted the most heinous wrong that you have perpetuated and allowed to fester.
That's twice you've killed Troi, and Janeway is still alive. Shame on you.
بيرني كان سيفوز
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Nuclear Navy Warwolf
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in omnibus requiem quaesivi, et nusquam inveni nisi in angulo cum libro
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ipsa scientia potestas est
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Nuclear Navy Warwolf
*
in omnibus requiem quaesivi, et nusquam inveni nisi in angulo cum libro
*
ipsa scientia potestas est