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.
Have you not read his other fics dude? Janeway is far better alive.
I've read just about everything he's got in the ASVS archive.
In this continuity, she pisses me off by developing into a true villain worthy of a crapload of hatred, as opposed to the haphazard menace to innocent spacefaring cultures she was without Chuck's intervention.
I also haven't seen her tortured to death, or even really tortured more than a little in NOGOA.
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.
We'll discover Janeway's fate soon enough.
speaking of which I do truly hope that that whore meets a very grusome end... but that's just me. hahahaha.... good rewrite, as always.
CERC wrote:speaking of which I do truly hope that that whore meets a very grusome end... but that's just me. hahahaha.... good rewrite, as always.
CERC
Go read Stravo's Starcrossed if you want to see the bitch punished (eventually). I won't spoil it for you, but suffice to say that she does not meet a pleasant fate.
I've read these stories before (well, okay I think I crapped out somewhere in Against All Odds), but I can't remember what happened to Janeway.
Anyways, on the fic, I'm really enjoying this revamped version. I like the bits with Garrack that you added in, and how Luke and Seven are aware and attracted to each other from almost the get-go, rather than laying eyes on each other for the first time at the end.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
CERC wrote:speaking of which I do truly hope that that whore meets a very grusome end... but that's just me. hahahaha.... good rewrite, as always.
CERC
Go read Stravo's Starcrossed if you want to see the bitch punished (eventually). I won't spoil it for you, but suffice to say that she does not meet a pleasant fate.
I've read these stories before (well, okay I think I crapped out somewhere in Against All Odds), but I can't remember what happened to Janeway.
Anyways, on the fic, I'm really enjoying this revamped version. I like the bits with Garrack that you added in, and how Luke and Seven are aware and attracted to each other from almost the get-go, rather than laying eyes on each other for the first time at the end.
oh I've been reading starcrossed for a very long time......
"What do you mean 'you don't have a body'?" Picard replied to Laforge on his way into Engineering. "How do you know she's dead?" Picard felt so many emotions running through him he didn't know how to deal with them. Minutes before he had learned that Deanna Troi, his friend for over ten years, had died on board his ship, while they were in Spacedock no less.
"The computer said that at 1402 hours Counselor Troi entered Holodeck 2," Laforge said, "And she stopped being in Holodeck 2 at 1557 hours."
Lt. Commander Sullice was in Engineering with them. "We had made plans to go together at that time, but I had to back out with my work down here."
"Yes, well apparently that didn't stop her," Laforge replied; they looked up for a moment as Riker, Data, and Seven walked in to join them. The Death Star would have to wait; Deanna was family. "She was running a program of the seas of Tibillis III during that time, and had no visitors. However, the program deactivated on her command at 1557."
"The same time she disappeared," Picard said.
"Yes," Laforge said, "and I have a rather nasty theory about what happened. As you know, a holodeck is a rather complicated bit of technology, utilizing light, forcefields, tractor beams, replicators and so on. They all exist within the holodeck system."
"Yes, but how does this explain what happened to the counselor?"
"The system is also designed to be self-cleaning. For example, let's say you run a track and field program for several hours. When everything is turned off you don't want two pints of sweat suddenly appearing in the middle of the floor, so the computer disposes of it."
"You're referring to the bio-reclamation system," Seven said.
Riker looked at her then shook his head. "I had no idea something like that even existed."
"It proved to be a maintenance necessity," Data said. "I believe the first time this was determined was during the testing of the first holodeck at the Daystrom Institute. After initializing a sexual program-"
"Thank you Data," Picard interrupted. "Your point, Mr. Laforge."
"The computer suffered a malfunction and misinterpreted Counselor Troi for.... biological waste."
The group looked at one another in horror. The thought that their friend and colleague had been disintegrated by their own computer was gut-wrenching. "Is there any way to reverse it?" Picard asked. "Anything."
Seven, Data, Laforge and Sullice looked amongst each other; none of them had a look of optimism. "I'm sorry, sir," Laforge said.
"How could this have happened?" Picard said, trying to remain focused on the problem.
"First glance makes it a freak accident, sir," Laforge replied. "The wrong code entered the system at exactly the wrong time." He paused. "Sir, that is why we were all instructed to wait until we were in the arch to end the program. I know it's something we never do, but it seems like in this case, a hard lesson was learned."
"She couldn't have just been transported off the ship?" Picard asked, offering one final hope.
"I'm sorry, sir," Laforge replied, "there was no transporter activity at all during that time, and she vanished at precisely the same moment the holodeck shut down, and the bio-reclamation system noted a large matter influx. I've gone over everything a dozen times, sir, she's gone."
"You said the wrong code entered the system," Picard replied, trying to focus on the logistics of the problem. Troi would have called it something like transference, Picard thought, but he'd take whatever help he could get right now. "What did you mean by that?"
"Thousands of messages are being sent to the computer at any time," Laforge replied. "Occasionally a code might go through that interferes with another system. It's rare but it does happen. In this case, it was several million to one against."
"Talk about bad luck," Riker muttered. He was visibly trying to keep a grip on himself, given their past history.
"Could this have been done intentionally?" Picard asked.
Laforge thought for a moment. "Unlikely, but it is possible. But you'd need to be a high-level computer expert to pull it off, not to mention not leaving any tracks."
Picard reflected on it for a moment. "Mr. Laforge, the installations are complete?"
"Yes, captain."
"Number One," he said to Riker, "have us depart Spacedock and set course to rendezvous with the fleet." Riker nodded and left. "Mr. Laforge, begin an investigation into this accident, just to be on the safe side."
"Yes sir," Laforge replied. "Data, I'd like you to start-"
"I'm afraid Mr. Data is otherwise engaged," Picard interrupted, a twang of guilt plucking his conscience.
"Sir, there's a lot of code to sift through. This may take some time."
"I understand, Mr. Laforge, but I'm afraid Mr. Data's time is very limited right now. Take other staff from engineering if necessary."
Picard felt the weight of his steps all the way to the turbolift. He knew that the Death Star was their top priority, regardless of his own personal feeling. Nevertheless, it was hard to ignore the sense of betrayal he was feeling right now, that he had somehow abandoned Troi in her hour of need. Maybe he should tell Data to join the investigation. He reached Deck 8 and the turbolift doors opened, and the Earth hung in space before him for a fraction of a second before exploding. Picard stumbled to the back of the lift as the debris raced towards him.
And then he saw the hallway. Quickly he stepped out of the turbolift and went to his ready room.
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Lord Vader's eyes opened as his meditation ended, the Emperor's instructions still fresh in his mind. The time was coming to end this war and bring this entire part of space under firm Imperial control. With a mere thought a message was sent across space, and after several minutes a garbled image appeared on Darth Vader's private display in his meditation chamber. "We'd agreed you wouldn't contact me here," the voice said with irritation.
"The Emperor wishes to accelerate his plans," Vader said, ignoring the remark.
"I'm working as fast as I can!"
"We must begin now," Vader said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The plan is already in motion. You'll be bringing my son before me soon, and then... all your desires will come true."
The distorted image changed shape as it hung its head in quiet defeat. "If we're to proceed, we need to deal with Picard."
"Kill him." There was no anger or animosity in the tone of his voice, it was as if Vader had ordered a weapons check, a simple command to be carried out swiftly and efficiently.
The voice was silent. "I can't."
Vader remained fixed in place as he had throughout the entire conversation; yet somehow he managed to make himself appear far more menacing. "And why not?"
"Troi's death already aroused suspicion; but I couldn't let her live with what she knew. But now... any more accidents and there will be a full investigation. There's nothing I can do."
The room was silent, save for the Dark Lord's heavy mechanical breathing. Finally he reached a decision. "Then bring him to me. I shall deal with Picard myself."
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For the first time, the Defiant's hyperdrive was activated. Its final destination would be Starbase 375 to rendezvous with Picard's fleet, but its task force was making a stop along the way to mop up a contingent of Cardassian ships. Colonel Kira flexed the biomechanical arm the Imperials had given her, and it was hard not to smile at this prospect. The Cardassians took away her home, her friends, and a part of her own flesh... they'd pay with a pound of their own.
They almost hadn't made it... she almost hadn't made it even. But Bashir's reputation as a doctor was well-earned, and he'd kept her stable while Nog piloted the Defiant out of there. At the time it had seemed an act of heroism on his part; he'd been badly injured, but he kept his head and flew them back into Federation space, where the Vengeance was able to pick them up. But when the word came down on what had happened to Deep Space 9, there were a lot of second thoughts, especially from Nog himself. The last thing he'd done with his father was treat him with mock embarrassment... it visibly weighed on him.
"I want all personnel at battle stations," Kira ordered. "Torpedoes standing by, an open comm with Engineering. The minute we drop out of hyperspace we hit them before they get the chance to run."
Commander Brills, the Defiant's new first officer, seemed a bit taken aback. "Captain," he said, using the protocol term for the situation, "we will give them a chance to surrender first, right?"
"They've had their chance to surrender," Kira replied. "Now they pay the price for refusal."
"Captain, let's be reasonable here," Brills said. "They just lost their home-"
"Which just proves there's a small amount of justice in the universe," Nog rumbled.
"As you were, lieutenant," Brills said sharply.
"With all do respect, sir," Nog replied, emphasizing the word, "they murdered my father, my uncle and my best friend. When they're destroyed, the celebration is on me."
"Revenge never solves anything," Brills said irritably.
"'He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of your to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way,'" Bashir replied in a quiet, frigid tone. Brills looked at him oddly. "Something from one of the Chief's holodeck programs."
"So, they destroy your station, you destroy their planet," Brills replied sarcastically.
Bashir's eyes flicked up at him. Ezri was supposed to be on the Defiant... she was supposed to be alive! But the Cardassians took her away, and they didn't even let him say he loved her one last time. "That's about the size of it," he said darkly.
"Quite a philosophy for a doctor."
"Yes, I'm a doctor, not a vet," Bashir said. "I don't treat animals."
"Coming out of hyperspace in one minute," Nog said.
"Regardless of personal feelings," Kira said, "everyone is to follow my orders, clear?"
"Yes sir," Brills said. "And they are?"
Kira smiled, but it was humorless and bitter. "Kill 'em all and let the Prophets sort it out."
The milkiness of hyperspace disappeared as the Defiant re-entered normal space along with several other Federation vessels. The star destroyer Vengeance was already moving in on the fleet of twenty Cardassian ships. The Defiant went to full impulse as the Red Alert signal went up throughout the ship. The Cardassians had the advantage of numbers, but they were demoralized and running low on supplies; they'd be easy pickings. "Torpedoes, full spread," Kira ordered, ignoring the look on Brills' face. The weapons tore away from the ship, their silver-white glows marking their path towards destruction. A Cardassian ship tried to evade but to no avail; the entire port forward section of the ship was vaporized and it drifted helplessly through space. The other ships tried desperately to rally against the attackers, but it was clear that discipline had been lost, and their efforts were uncoordinated. Their weapons bounced harmlessly off the shields of the Vengeance while its turbolasers chewed through their own. The Defiant slipped through their lines, blasting at one Cardassian ship after another.
"Sir," Nog suddenly reported, "twenty-six vessels just arrived!"
"Why didn't we detect them sooner?" Brills demanded.
"They've dropped out of hyperspace, sir."
"Cardassians don't have hyperdrives."
"No," Kira said, looking at the readings. "But we all know who does." Two squadrons of Rebel fighters and a pair of huge cap ships closed in, and the Imperials broke off their attack to engage them.
"Orders sir?"
Kira thought quickly. "Our orders were to take the Cardassians and that's what we'll do."
"Captain-"
"Continue attack," Kira ordered as Brills began his protest.
"Incoming message from the Bozeman," Nog called as they continued their pursuit course.
"Federation ships, this is Captain Bateson," came the transmission. "Today you need to make a difficult decision. The Federation we all know is gone, a mere puppet of the Empire, pressed into an evil purpose. I know it goes against all your training and gut instinct, but if you truly love the Federation, show it by joining with me in a defection to the New Alliance. It's the only way to restore freedom to humanity."
There was silence on the bridge of the Defiant; word of Federation defections were everywhere, and many knew those who were likely considering it. Kira took a deep breath. "Break of pursuit of the Cardassians," she said finally. There was a noticeable tension present now. "Target the Bozeman, all weapons. Blow that traitorous son of a bitch out of space!"
However, it seemed the Defiant's crew was alone in its assessment. The Reliant, the Crazy Horse, and the Iliad ganged up on the Defiant as it tried to wear down the Bozeman. Both had fought the Borg together, but now their weapons were trained on each other. Their weapons blasted away at each other as phaser pulse met phaser pulse. The Rebel fighters entered the fray, and while their shields were weak and their weapons not as powerful, their high speed and quick maneuverability made it difficult to target. The two sides seemed equal in this stand-off when the Vengeance exploded under Rebel bombardment.
Kira stared at the viewscreen with open malice. The Cardassians who destroyed her life so many times, the Rebels who took away her chance to punish them, the Federation officers who had the audacity to side with them. She wanted them all to pay, right here and now... but she was responsible for this crew. She couldn't justify this. "Break off the attack," she muttered. "Take us to Starbase 375." The Defiant turned and vanished into hyperspace.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The ready room door chimed; it was Data. "Captain," he said coming in, "about the investigation around Counselor Troi's death-"
"I am as saddened as anyone on this ship," Picard said. "But you know how important your current assignment is."
"Yes sir, but that is not why I am here." He paused as he seemed to weigh matters. Anything that required that must be very delicate, so Picard offered him a seat. "I do not wish to prey upon feelings of paranoia in the wake of this tragedy, sir, but duty –and my friendship with the Counselor– compels me."
"You have some insight into this?" Picard asked, unsure whether this was good or bad news.
"Seven is my friend, sir," Data went on. "She has confided in me. I do not wish to share the details, but she has been coping with emotions that are new to her... very strong emotions." He looked up at Picard. "I trust you understand why I can relate to her position, sir."
The smashed table came back to mind. "Indeed," Picard said. "Go on."
"I repeatedly advised her to speak with the Counselor," Data continued. "She was strongly opposed to it. She has her pride, and these emotions seemed to make her feel weak and flawed." Data hesitated. "She visited the Counselor yesterday. When I arrived at 1355 hours, I observed Seven leave in a rush, visibly upset, sir... far more than I have ever seen her. She did not even acknowledge my presence."
Picard folded his hands and leaned forward. "Data," he said slowly, "are you suggesting that Seven murdered Deanna?"
"I am aware of the gravity of such an accusation, sir," Data said. "And I would not bring it to you if I did not consider it a viable possibility." Picard was about to speak but Data pushed on. "Seven has a complete understanding of every aspect of the Enterprise. She is an expert in computer science. She had full access to the Enterprise's computer systems with the means and instructions for her to operate without being traced." Data seemed to hesitate. "And her recent experience in the Tsunkatse arena has taught her how to kill, sir."
"Killing a stranger to preserve her own life," Picard said sharply. "Not murdering a friend to keep a secret."
"Respectfully, sir," Data said, "killing someone with one's own bare hands can only make it easier to kill someone you will never have to actually witness dying." Picard was silent. "As you said sir: whoever has the means, motive, and opportunity is likely the guilty party."
"I can't believe that," Picard said hoarsely.
"Seven is a very dear friend, sir," Data said. "But she is attempting to reconcile her humanity with her Borg nature. Both have their dark sides, sir." Picard shook his head in quiet disbelief. "The evidence is circumstantial," Data admitted. "But the likelihood of this being an accident is statistically nonexistent."
Picard got up and walked over to the window, trying to think. Twice he'd let his prejudice against the Borg turn him against Seven, and twice she'd proven innocent. He didn't want to compound his mistake by doing so again... but he had to admit Data made sense. When faced with a distasteful choice, Seven had chosen to embrace her Borg nature... if she were desperate enough, it was certain possible she'd do so again. "At this time all you have is a theory," he said. He hung his head. "But one I have a hard time rejecting," he said quietly.
"It is my deepest hope that I am wrong, sir," Data said.
"And mine," Picard said. "For now, I want you to watch our Borg friend very carefully; let me know if she does anything out of the ordinary."
Data nodded. "Aye sir." He stood up to leave. "I also would advise long-range sensor sweeps and monitoring the holonetwork, sir."
"Why?"
"Merely as a precaution, sir," Data said, then hesitated. "Seven still possesses a subspace interface... if this situation proves beyond her ability to cope, she might attempt to summon the Borg, so that she could be returned to the collective consciousness."
Picard looked momentarily aghast at the accusation, then looked down as he swallowed uncomfortably. His throat was almost too dry to say the words. "Make it so."
I like the bit with Data talking about a "sexual program" and then Picard cutting him off. That wasn't in the orginal, was it?
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
Really? I only recall Geordie's much more tame "two pints of sweat" example.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
Sonnenburg wrote:Yeah, both were in the original. It was only logical, after all.
I guess it has been a long time since I read the orginal indeed. Odd that I'd remember the sweat example and not the other one, though.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
SpecWar826 wrote:I really liked this particular homage to a certain movie
"He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of your to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That's the Chicago way"
I love that movie. Whenever my father and I are about to do something particularly long and/or arduous that involves getting in a truck, he'll say "Let's do some good" right after he starts the engine.
Sonnenburg wrote:Yeah, both were in the original. It was only logical, after all.
I guess it has been a long time since I read the orginal indeed. Odd that I'd remember the sweat example and not the other one, though.
Well, I try to slip them in subtly, or at least let the reader fill in the blanks; IMO, it makes it funnier. I don't want to give anything away, but I've recently finished a scene where Seven makes an unorthodox application of the laws of physics.
Oh, BTW, is anybody ever going to notice that sign Data put up? IIRC, Picard noticed it fairly quickly in the orginal.
"I want to mow down a bunch of motherfuckers with absurdly large weapons and relative impunity - preferably in and around a skyscraper. Then I want to fight a grim battle against the unlikely duo of the Terminator and Robocop. The last level should involve (but not be limited to) multiple robo-Hitlers and a gorillasaurus rex."--Uraniun235 on his ideal FPS game
"The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant compared to the power of the Force."--Darth Vader
Chris OFarrell wrote:This is really working well. The writing is much more polished this time around of course, you've had a lot of practice.
And I really like all the new forshadowing your putting into this
Thanks. One of the things that was always missing from WWE was that it was so self-contained. In SOTN there were things pointing to AAO, in AAO there were things pointing to PL, and so on, but WWE always stood alone because it was how it was originally intended. Helping to tie it together with the other parts has really been half the fun.
0900 arrived a little early for Captain Picard, given how late he was up the night before. Unfortunately it wasn't because of anything exciting, just examining the improvements made before their arrival at Starbase 375. Apparently, Admiral Parks was interested in giving him the same push Picard had been given his own subordinates, because he'd been tasked with handling the small fleet mopping up the remaining Cardassian ships in this part of space. And that, sadly, led to this morning's meeting, involving the three officers that filed into the conference room.
Picard gave the PADD a quick scan and put it back down. "Lt. Julian Bashir, Lt. Nog, Col. Kira Nerys," he said thoughtfully. None of them spoke a word. "It says here that you fought bravely to defend both Bajor and station Deep Space 9, but were forced to retreat, mostly due to lack of fleet support. You were picked up by the Imperial star destroyer Vengeance where the ship was secured and taken to Utopia Planetia for refit." He looked at the PADD again. "You, Colonel, had an arm replaced while in Imperial care."
"Yes sir," she replied with a crisp military voice.
"Your defensive efforts were impressive," Picard said. He passed the PADD over in the direction of the three officers. "Would you care to explain the highlighted remarks to me, please." He made it clear it wasn't a question.
Kira never so much as looked at it. "What's to explain. We were given orders and carried them out to the best of our ability, sir."
"Your statements implied you turned this into a personal fight," Picard said. "That this wasn't about the war; it was about making the Cardassians pay for Deep Space 9."
"Not for Deep Space 9, sir," Bashir said. There was a clear undercurrent to his voice, filled with restrained malice. "For Ezri Dax, Jake Sisko, Rom, Leeta, Morn, Quark-"
"I get the point, doctor," Picard said. "But your personal feelings cannot interfere with your duty."
"Our duty was carried out-"
"The only thing you were interested in was revenge," Picard said sharply. "I am shocked that distinguished officers such as yourselves would entertain such thoughts, much less voice them in front of your crew. I'm removing you from active duty," he said to Nog and Bashir, "pending a full psychiatric evaluation. As for you, Colonel, you'll be returned to Bajor for the time being. Commander Brills will remain in temporary command of the Defiant."
"Brills is a little weasel," Kira remarked.
"Well, colonel, that's not your problem any more. Dismissed."
The three filed out, and Picard didn't need Troi's empathy to sense the hatred when they did so. What a beautiful masterpiece of Imperial engineering, he thought. They blow up the station and make it look like Cardassians were behind it, then toss these poor people back into combat without giving them a chance to recover from such a tragedy, so that they became anti-Cardassian fanatics. And these were good people; Picard had heard about their work during the Dominion War... that even they could be driven to this made him wonder if the problem wasn't just the Empire, but with themselves. Picard held his head in his hands, massaging his temples with his thumbs. "It's all falling apart," he muttered.
"'Things fall apart,'" said a voice. Picard glanced up at the sudden sound. "'The center cannot hold.'" Q was lounging in a chair at the far end of the meeting table, picking at something on the wall, then examining it, only to drop it with a rub of his fingers. "'Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, the blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere the ceremony of innocence is drowned.'" He slowly turned his head towards Picard and a grin spread across his face. "'The best lack all conviction.'"
Picard was too tired to get angry at this point. "For someone who wishes to try humanity you certainly do enjoy poking about our culture."
Q straightened up slightly. "Yes, well, there are a small handful of you who managed to stop flinging feces at one another long enough utilize your primitive brains. Yeets, of course, being one. Although perhaps you're not into early twentieth century poetry; it's certainly not Shakespeare. Of course, you realize that there were other authors besides Shakespeare, yes?"
"Has this turned into a literary test?" Picard asked, the exhaustion evident in his voice.
"Perhaps. 'The Second Coming'. I thought it might be appropriate, considering the occasion."
"Yes, the end of the world. I've not forgotten."
"Very good, A plus," Q mock applauded. "However, I'm afraid your grade depends upon the correct answer to the final exam question: Do the best lack all conviction?"
Picard drew himself up, the weakness gone for the moment. "No. They most certainly do not."
"I like your enthusiasm, but I'm afraid it's the results which count, Picard. Will your convictions save you this time?" A tiny Earth appeared over the table, orbited by an even tinier Death Star. "'And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?'" The beam fired again, and the world was no more. Picard closed his eyes, not wanting to remember these horrible images. When he opened them, Q and his illusions were gone. But not forgotten.
The chime sounded, and after Picard's call, the door opened. It was Data. "Sir," he said, "there is a message from Starfleet Command. They say you and Lt. of Nine are to return to Earth to answer questions regarding your allegations."
"Now?" Picard said. "We've only been here a short while."
Data looked slightly off. "I confess I find the timing of this order to be dubious... especially given the suspicion around Seven, who would be accompanying you."
Picard nodded slowly. "You think Seven might have faked the transmission... why?"
"There are several possibilities," Data said, "though all are speculative. But it would be time for her to be alone with you, with no way of defending yourself. Her physical strength is second only to my own, sir; if she wished to overpower you, she could do so."
"But towards what end?" Picard demanded.
"Not to kill you, if that is your concern," Data said. "If Seven wished to kill anyone, it would be I, sir. I am the only other person she has confided in."
"What exactly is this secret?" Picard asked. Data seemed to hesitate. "Under the circumstances, Mr. Data, I need to know."
Data still seemed resistant. "She has a romantic infatuation with one of the Rebels, sir."
"What?" Picard said with mild shock.
"Luke Skywalker, sir," Data said. "From the Klingon prison attack. She seems to have a great difficulty in coping with this strong emotion, sir."
"I see," Picard said distantly.
"May I offer a suggestion, sir?" Data asked.
"By all means," Picard said.
"Go with her, sir," Data said. "I will modify a shuttle so that I can track you at all times, and that you can reach me in an emergency. If the message is genuine, then nothing is wrong. If not, then we would learn what Seven has been doing, and how severe the damage to our cause is, sir."
"That sounds rather dangerous, Mr. Data," Picard said, but then sighed. "But if she's a murderer, then there's no telling what else she might do; ferreting out the truth is worth the risk. Will she be vulnerable to a phaser on stun?"
"Yes sir."
"I'll keep a Type I on me at all times, just to be safe," Picard said. "Let's hope we're wrong... not just for Seven's sake, but for the Federation's."
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Han elbowed his way into the officers club, peering over the crowd to try to find Leia and the others. After a few seconds of being jostled around himself he spotted them in a corner table on the other side, and he began the long task of sliding through the mob of beings. What had been a make-shift Rebel base had turned practically into an open port, and with the number of powers that made up the New Alliance, there were a wide variety of beings on hand: Romulan, Cardassian, Rebel, even some Federation officers that had defected. He slipped past Col. Derlin and Morgan Bateson, who were sitting together talking at the bar. "It's a little known fact," Derlin commented over his drink, "that the background of an effective security force is your messenger delivery service." Bateson nodded in agreement and took some of his own drink. Han moved on and finally slipped into a chair next to Leia. Luke and Lando were there along with Captain Price, Admiral Riklin, and Elim Garak. Many of the drinks looked untouched.
"Did I miss much?" Han asked as he keyed his in his order. He didn't know any of these drinks yet but he figured it'd be fun to learn.
"Just an unofficial tactical evaluation," Luke said, turning his glass this way and that.
Han nodded grimly. "I don't think I need to read the minutes to know the consensus.
"The current opinion," Riklin said, taking a sip of a thick blue liqueur, "is that the Cardassian setback was too much of a loss. Hundreds of vessels were destroyed in that attack and their military has become disorganized - which was exactly what the Empire wanted of course."
"Things are very grim for my people, Mr. Solo," Garak said gravely. "Some are surrendering, some joining the other side, some just running..." He sighed. "The remaining Cardassian authorities are trying to bring them back into the fold, but our efforts are an uphill battle. I'm sorry to say that militarily, we won't have much to offer the New Alliance."
"The Empire will pay for what they've done," Leia promised Garak.
"I'm surprised that so few ships have defected from the Federation," Luke said. "From what I heard, I figured the whole fleet would be on our side."
"Starfleet has its ideals but over the recent years its military nature has been emphasize," Price commented. "It's never easy to question your senior officers, even when you know they're in the wrong."
"How's the Death Star project been moving?" Leia asked Price. "That should definitely be our top priority right now. Even if we had the ships to defeat the Imperial fleet, the Death Star could possibly hold off our attacks and just destroy us planet by planet."
Price nodded. "The man who's handling it is Jean-Luc Picard. He and his crew have a knack for these kind of scrapes."
Riklin nodded his agreement. "More than once they have been a thorn in the side of the Romulan Star Empire," he commented. "It would be ironic if they were the ones who saved it from destruction."
"He's put the task into very capable hands," Price said. "Commander Data, whose reputation is known throughout the quadrant, and your friend, Mr. Skywalker." She smiled a little at his puzzled look. "Lt. Seven of Nine. Both are brilliant and familiar with Imperial technology. They're our best chance."
"I'm glad to see the Federation's coming around," Lando commented. "But what about the Klingons? Surely they must see what's going on by now." Riklin smiled, but there was no humor to it. He took another drink.
"The Klingons have a different system of values," Price said finally. "Honor and loyalty mixed with glory and battle. And everything revolves around blood... they never stop with the blood," she said under her breath. "There will be almost no defections if any at all, since anyone strong enough with a different viewpoint would take control of the fleet and break the alliance."
"They're a dictatorship?" Han asked.
"No," Price replied. "A kind of autocracy where position is determined both by family honor and personal achievement. However, the military will follow any true leader if they felt his cause was just."
"So it's all or nothing with the Klingons?" Lando asked.
"I'm afraid so," Price said with some regret.
"Is there any way to persuade them?" Leia asked. "What would we have to do?"
"First you'd have to find a way to convince someone with authority to support your position. If you try taking it there yourself in this situation you'll probably be killed."
Lando finished his drink. "And where can we find someone to pull this off."
Riklin smiled and looked in Price's direction. "I have a pretty good idea," he commented. Price gave him a dirty look.
"Am I missing something?" Han asked.
"You mean she hasn't told you?" Garak said with mock surprise, and Price blushed slightly. "She's a Klingon."
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The shuttle left the Enterprise without incident. Picard would have welcomed the opportunity to sleep, but under the circumstances that could have been suicidal. He said nothing, deciding to let the silence work at Seven to see if she'd decide to fill it. It took over an hour, but eventually, she spoke.
"Captain," Seven said, "I apologize if this is a violation of protocol... but there is something I am compelled to say." She seemed to struggle for the words. "I have observed your interactions with other members of the crew, and have noted how it differentiates from my own. I am grateful to you for taking a personal interest in my development... helping me to join Starfleet, giving me a position among your senior officers, and giving me your trust." She hesitated. "But I have failed to live up to what I should have."
Picard had been worried about this. "In what way?" he asked in what he hoped was a neutral manner.
"You told me that you would be there for me as a friend," Seven said. "And yet, I kept things from you because I feared your opinion of me would change... and... I cannot explain this, captain, but... the thought of disappointing you fills me with sadness. But I can deceive you no longer." She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "I felt nothing when I killed the Hirogen," she said. "I allowed myself to fully embrace my Borg nature, so that I could do the task without emotion. I did not have the courage to do my duty as a human, so I rejected my humanity. I'm sorry, captain... despite all your efforts, I have failed to measure up."
"Seven," Picard said with just a hint of exasperation in his voice, "I already know this."
Seven looked at him in surprise. "Troi-"
"No," Picard said before she could get any further. "We saw the match. I know what you did, and it's all right. You did what you had to do to survive."
"You... you don't feel it was wrong?"
"In a life and death struggle to survive, Seven, giving in to your instincts is understandable. That they are Borg instincts changes nothing."
Seven seemed relieved, although it was only a slight change in her manner. "I am grateful for your understanding, captain."
Picard wet his lips and decided to push on. "Is there anything else you're keeping from me?"
Seven hesitated. "Yes," she admitted. "But- But I am no longer afraid to share them with you... if you would like to listen, of course."
"It's a long way to Earth," Picard said with a smile. And she told him everything. She told about her growing interest in the Rebel, Luke Skywalker. She told about the visit by Q. She told about the conversation with Troi, and Picard could hear the emotion in her tones as she discussed it all, and with each word he became more and more certain that she was innocent, that she couldn't kill in cold blood without her Borg nature, and that she was far too ashamed of herself to ever turn to it again.
"I will admit that the Counselor's words caused me to feel overwhelming emotions at the time," Seven said finally. "But after a brief period to reflect upon them, I realized she was correct. If the time came, if this Rebel or someone else entered my life... while I am still fearful of such emotions, I would not let the physical violation by the Borg inhibit me." She shook her head. "I regret her death, captain, as a friend and colleague, but also because I had hoped that... that perhaps she could help me." She wiped her eye. "I am aware that that is selfish, captain," she said, "but I cannot help but feel that with her death I've lost my chance to become human... and that fills me with grief."
Picard was about to say something when hyperspace twisted and they dropped back into real space. "What's happening?" he asked.
Seven's hands flew over the instruments. "There is a large interdiction field that's interfering with our hyperdrive." Picard looked out the tiny windows of the craft. Sure enough, he saw the unmistakable Interdictor cruiser floating about four kilometers away. Two star destroyers were converging on their position. "I'm attempting to evade." Seven stated.
"Turn us around," Picard said quickly. "See if you can move beyond their field and re-engage the hyperdrive. Never mind going to Earth, it appears the Empire has had its fill of us."
The giant vessels continued to grow in the window as the view suddenly spun. Seven put all power into the impulse engines, fighting to outdistance the ships before they were destroyed. There was another lurch, one which almost threw Picard out of his seat. "I'm sorry captain," Seven said. "We're caught in a tractor beam. I'm attempting to break free, but I do not think I will succeed."
Picard cleared his throat as the docking bay of the star destroyer grew beyond the window. "Let's hope they remember they're our allies," he said grimly.
"Come in, child," the elderly woman said to Captain Price as she stepped into the dimly lit house. "You'll catch your death in that rain!"
"I'm here for-"
"For Master K'run, yes." The woman was incredibly cheerful for a Klingon housekeeper, Price thought. She was escorted into the house and through a large pair of double doors. Beyond them was a huge collection of artifacts, arranged in a half-hazard sort of way on shelves and tables. An old man shuffled about amongst them, picking up an item here or there, only to set it down in what appeared to be no different an arrangement than there had been originally, but definitely pleased with the change. Price remained silent until he spoke. "So, you decided to come back after all."
"It looks as if nothing has changed," Price commented.
The elderly Klingon peered at her, and then returned to arranging items on the table. "Still wearing your uniform?" he asked.
Price knew where this was going. "You have a better suggestion as to what I should be wearing?"
"Not really," he said, slowly turning around, his eyes more sunken than she remembered them being. "Usually when I see a traitor they're covered in their own blood."
The words stung despite her. "For leaving the Federation I'm a traitor," she remarked, "but if I had killed my commanding officer instead I'd be a hero. And people wonder why the words 'Klingon' and 'logic' aren't mentioned together more often."
The old man held her gaze for several heartbeats, then moved towards a distant shelf. "Your mother's been worried about you, you know," he commented over his shoulder. "You've sided yourselves with the Romulans." He held up a small object from the shelf, admiring it. "I fear that will be the losing side in this war."
"The losing side, perhaps," Price conceded, "but not the wrong side."
He turned quickly for such an aged person. "Good," he said with a nod of his head. "I'm glad to see you've at least learned the importance of battling to the bitter end."
"Once again," she replied with a sigh, "you've missed the entire point."
"Really," he shuffled to a different shelf, placing the object among others with a vague similarity. "And you, of course, will set me straight, eh?"
"I'm sick of war!" she almost screamed. She hadn't meant to, but this, this place, it tapped into something almost primeval. "I'm sick of death and destruction and lives paid in the name of space and resources, and especially those who stand on the sidelines and try to make the whole damn thing seem like some glorious song instead of the pointless devastation that it truly is!"
Slowly the old man shuffled up to Price, holding an ancient and twisted knife. "You abandoned your position," he chastised her, his voice low and even. "You fight for your enemy. It's a wonder you've not brought dishonor on this house."
"If fighting for the enemy is dishonorable," Price replied, her voice matching his, "our entire race would be cursed for five generations."
"The Empire is not our enemy," he replied, his attention now drawn to the knife blade.
"They murder the innocent!" Price roared. "What is the honor in killing unarmed women and children? This is the Klingon code you cling to?!"
His eyes darted away from the blade and back to her. "You know nothing of the Klingon code."
"I'm only too familiar with it," she said through her teeth.
K'run shook his head. "There is too much human in you," he replied, "it has drowned out the warrior in your blood."
There was an audible snap as the palm of her hand connected with his face, twisting it sideways. "Never speak to me like that again," she said with an icy tone.
The old man's face turned back towards her slowly, a small grin growing. "Perhaps there's more Klingon in your blood than I thought."
"My blood is filled with oxygenated plasma. It keeps me alive. It does not dictate my actions."
"Still you can feel it, can't you," his voice oozing with a barely audible chuckle. "I knew it. No matter what you are still a Klingon."
"Yes," she said. "I am Klingon. But I will not let what I am dictate who I am."
"You would deny your nature?"
"No," she said. "I deny that anything other than my mind decides my actions."
K'run looked into her eyes, then shuffled back to the shelf. "That's your human side talking," he said.
"NO!" she screamed. "It's me! I'm talking!! Victoria Price, daughter of William Price and member of the house of K'run! And my thoughts are my own!" It was too much; she stood up and almost ran for the door.
"Wait!" K'run commanded, and for some reason she couldn't fathom she actually did. K'run walked up slowly, as if sizing her up. He put his hands on her shoulders - a stretch for him, since she was considerably taller than him. His eyes seemed to bore into hers. "I'm sorry." The silence seemed to last for hours. "What did you come here for? I assume it was not to be taunted by an old man."
Price hesitated. "We need help, grandfather. Times are desperate, and we may need to join together if we're to prevail."
K'run shook his head. "You want the Klingon Empire to break its word? To actually join sides with the Romulans?" He closed his eyes, and again shook his head. "Even if I approved, I could not accomplish such a thing."
"Believe me when I say that if it does not happen," she said with desperation in her tone, "it will be the end of us all. You know I hate war... but I'm up to my elbows in it. Doesn't that tell you something? Doesn't that tell you just how evil the Empire truly is?" She slipped a datarod into his pocket. "Just hear me out; that's all I ask."
The old man pulled out the datarod and looked at it. "If it were anyone else, Victoria, I'd kill them."
She smiled and blinked back the tear. "Big words for such a small man." He laughed with her, and for a while, she could truly believe she was home, and safe. She would've given anything to keep that feeling with her... but this wasn't really home. It was just a building where old ideas were put on display as much as the trinkets, but serving no good. But she watched him take the datarod, and decided for a moment to indulge in the lie.
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"Coming up on Starbase 375," Paris remarked as Voyager left hyperspace and approached the spacestation.
"Looks like we're just in time," Chakotay commented as the station appeared on the viewer. Dozens of ships were either docked or in orbit around the base. The task force was nearly complete, and ready to sweep up the remaining resistance in Cardassian space. He rose to his feet. "I'll inform the captain," he said, walking towards the ready room. He stepped inside and saw Captain Janeway sitting behind her desk, her eyes fixed on her small computer display.
"We're making our final approach to Starbase 375," he said. She didn't even so much as blink in response. "Captain?"
"Three tenths of a second," she replied.
Chakotay was taken aback by the strange remark. "What?"
Janeway finally looked over at him. "That's the answer. You don't want to hear the question."
Chakotay stepped up to her desk. "Try me."
"Okay. How long does it take the world to end?" She turned the display and he saw the destruction of the Cardassian planet, with technical details being added in the infuriatingly emotionless way machines had of dealing with the horrific.
"Captain-" he began.
"Just what generates that much power?" she wondered aloud. "What kind of hell do you go to to find the energy to destroy the world in three tenths of a second?"
"It's not like it's the first time we've seen a planet destroyed," Chakotay said, unsure of how to phrase his remark. "Remember Species 8472."
"Yes, but that was somehow understandable," Janeway commented. "As brutal as it was, it was partial self-defense. And even that wasn't so... cavalier." She stared at the screen. "Three tenths.... What did I do, Chakotay? What did I bring back from the other side of that wormhole?"
Chakotay looked down, unsure of what to say. "I fought the Cardassians for a long time," he said finally. "Even I pity them this punishment. But this is a war captain, and when you are a participant in a war, there are only two sides to choose from. Which are we on?"
Janeway opened her mouth and closed it. "Honestly?" she asked. "I don't know any more." The commbadge sounded; it was Tuvok. "Go ahead."
"We've been informed that the mission is being delayed," he said. "It seems Captain Picard is missing."
"Missing?" she said.
"Yes." Tuvok paused. "Along with Seven of Nine."
Janeway's expression switched to shock and she looked up at Chakotay. He nodded, and they both marched onto the bridge. "Tuvok," she said, "get us everything you can, every possible bit of information. Seven was a part of our family; we're not losing her without a fight."
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Han almost fell out of his seat as another blast shook the Millennium Falcon. "I told you this cloaking device was a bad idea!" he said to Price as he grabbed the controls and spun the ship away from the approaching Bird of Prey.
"It's your ship," she replied, "you should've known something like this could happen."
Han was about to reply when Chewie growled from the back. "You're kidding me!" he replied as he tried twisting the ship around to avoid another onslaught.
"What'd he say," Price asked. For some reason, the Wookie's remarks were immune to the universal translator.
"The cloaking device overloaded the hyperdrive," Han replied in disgust. "That means we're in some serious trouble. Strap in." Before she even had a chance to try the belt Price was pushed back into her seat as the freighter launched ahead at high speed, the Bird of Prey right behind it. As it pursued, three more joined in the chase. The Falcon twisted as the blasts tried to connect with the tiny ship. One finally did, and Han and Price were both thrown about by the impact. Chewie growled in the pit as he tried to fix the damaged hyperdrive.
"'But Han'," he said in a weak attempt at a female voice, "'we need to get her there right away. Don't worry, the Romulans know what they're doing.'" The ship shook again from another impact. "Why do I always have to be such a sucker for a pretty face?"
"Evasion doesn't seem to be working," Price commented. "We may have to fight."
"I don't think so," Han replied. "This is a freighter, not a warship. I could take one, maybe two of those guys on a good day, but not all four." The ship bounced again from another near impact. Han muttered a curse. "Deflector shield's almost gone," he said through gritted teeth. "Chewie, now would be a good time." The growl didn't sound very optimistic.
An alert sounded on the controls, and Price looked at it. "Another ship," she said, looking over the instruments. "It's... it's a Negh'var."
"A what?" Han asked, and then looked. A huge ship, even bigger than the Overlord, began closing on their position. "I think we're in trouble," Han muttered, his eyes fixed on the ship. He put the ship into another twist and tried to escape, but another jolt made them realize it was only postponing the inevitable. "Shield's gone," Han said without enthusiasm.
Then the Negh'var fired. The tiny Birds of Prey scattered before it, and suddenly their attention was directed far away from the Millennium Falcon. "What in the-" Han began. An alarm began sounding, and Han hit it.
"Price," the voice hissed, "K'run commands you to leave the system immediately. We will provide you cover, but we will not destroy those who fight to defend Q'onos. Hurry!"
"No need to tell me twice," Han replied to no one in particular, and he pulled back on the lever. The ship continued its acceleration away from the Klingon homeworld, the battle disappearing far behind them. A few minutes later, Chewie patched the hyperdrive together well enough for a quick jump out of the system. "Well, captain," he said, "I hope this little trip was worth it."
Price nodded. "I hope so too," she said.
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Picard heard the echoing footsteps as he sat in his cell on board the star destroyer. The door slid open and two guards stepped in, a third standing in the doorway with his weapon drawn. They quickly grabbed his wrists and locked a pair of binders on them, then shoved him out the door. As he entered the corridor he saw Seven of Nine, also bound, being pushed out of the cell. Unfortunately, she was still wearing her impractical footwear (he never had figured that one out) and stumbled and fell. The guard picked her up by her elbow, wrenching the limb and causing a small grunt of pain to escape her lips. At the end of the corridor were four stormtroopers, their weapons held across their chest in parade like fashion. "Follow me," one rumbled, and together they marched to the docking bay. That was when he heard it, that terrible sound. Years later he'd still awaken in a cold sweat at that sound echoing in his head. It was the hiss of the artificial respirator of Darth Vader.
Picard did his best to try and appear confident. "Lord Vader," Picard said, a forced smile on his face. "I assume you're here to deliver us to Starfleet Command."
"The Emperor wishes to see you," Vader said, ignoring the remark.
"I'm very busy, I'm afraid," Picard said. "Perhaps another time?" His smile vanished as he felt his throat constricting; whatever had happened to the Klingon ambassador was obviously happening to him. After several heartbeats, he dropped to one knee, gasping soundlessly for air.
"I dislike your tone," Vader commented to the struggling Picard. With his attention elsewhere, Seven took action, putting her Tsunkatse training to work with a quick snap-kick, intending to drive that impractical heel into the Dark Lord's throat. However, without even turning his head, Vader reached out and snatched her foot out of the air by her ankle, holding it there. The pressure eased on Picard's throat as Vader stared at the now helpless Borg. Suddenly she was struck hard in the face by something that wasn't there, and she dropped solidly on her back. As she tried to get up it happened again, and again, until she was visibly bruised and bleeding. Eventually, Vader reached down and picked Seven up by her throat; Picard tried to intervene but two stormtroopers grabbed him. Vader looked at Seven with obvious contempt. "And you actually think you could be worthy of my son?"
Seven's face slipped into one of absolute horror. "H-H-H-How could you p-possibly know that?" she asked, voice quaking with fear. Vader responded only with the stare of his blank mask. "Deanna's dead..." she said, voice cracking. Vader still said nothing. Seven shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. "No," she said weakly. "No, he's my friend... he wouldn't..." A sob escaped. "He wouldn't!"
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Data walked onto the bridge; Riker got up to meet him. "Any word," he asked.
"The shuttle is gone sir, and I am afraid I have been unable to trace it." Data gestured for Riker to follow him into the turbolift. The doors closed, and he continued. "I believe Seven of Nine must have found and deactivated my beacon; that is the only possible explanation."
Riker looked around the lift, visibly conflicted. "She's a pain in the neck," he said. "But I can't imagine she'd do this."
"I am afraid there is more, sir," Data said as the turbolift opened in Engineering. Laforge was at work while the two walked up; he looked grim.
"The Counselor's death was no accident," Laforge said, unhappy to admit it. "She was murdered, sir... by Seven of Nine."
The news came hard. Riker couldn't even look at anyone, he was visibly fighting both disbelief and rage. "Are you sure?" he demanded.
"Absolutely," Laforge said. "She covered her tracks very well, but Data and I found her access code hidden in there. There's no doubt."
Riker nodded a little, still obviously struggling to keep his temper under control. "Let's go inform Starfleet Command," he said to Data, heading towards the turbolift. Data fell in step behind him. "I can't believe she would stab us in the back like that!"
"Yes," Data said, and a faint smile was on his face. "It seems these days that anyone could be a traitor."
I don't know if it's the fact that I see it coming, but I swear Data is a lot more obvious this time around. The first time it was a massive surprise followed by the slow "oh's and ah's" when I realized all the missed clues.
This chapter is what reveals his duplicity, unlike the previous version where it was revealed right before the end. From a "fresh perspective" look, the suspects have shifted from Riker/Jellico/Data to Seven/Data (if you read 32's conversation between Vader and the conspirator, it fits both of them). I shifted it up in the story after some thought, because WWE really isn't Data's story, it's more Picard's story, and Data's reveal isn't really tied in with him. I think that a look at 31-33 reveals no more evidence that Data's a double-agent than was there originally. His suspicion of Seven is based completely on truthful events, so on first glance it can appear like he's sharing his suspicion despite his friendship because it's his duty, whereas in retrospect he's obviously trying to pin his crime on an innocent party who isn't trusted in the first place.
Commander Riker entered Science Room 1 and sealed the door. "Your message said it was urgent," Riker said.
Data nodded. "I have completed my study of the Death Star, and have found its weakness," he said as a small coiled device appeared on a display nearby.
Riker looked at it curiously. "It looks a bit like the hyperdrive," he commented.
"There are some similarities, sir," Data replied. "I believe this device can destroy the Death Star."
Riker looked at him with some surprise. "Really? I thought this project would take a long time."
Data did an imitation of a shrug. "It did not."
"How does it work?" Riker asked, "And what does it have to do with a hyperdrive?"
"In this case, sir, everything." Data tapped some more keys and an image of the Death Star appeared. It continued to expand until it was focused on the very center of the station, to a large device about the size of the Enterprise. It was spherical, then sharpened into a cone; information was displayed along the sides of the image. "This is the main power source for the Death Star," Data said. "It is called a hypermatter reactor."
Riker nodded in understanding. "Yes, I remember hearing a little about that at an engineering conference at Utopia Planetia a couple months ago. How does it work?"
"It provides the station with power by drawing energy from hyperspace," Data said. "It is the most powerful energy source we are aware of, and the key to the Death Star's vast energy reserves. It is also the basis for this weapon." The item reappeared in the display, turning on several axis. "This device will create a large hyperspacial disturbance," Data said, "one that I believe will interfere with the use of the hypermatter reactor. If enough of them function at the same time, I believe the reactor will experience a chain reaction that will destroy the station."
"Incredible," Riker replied, his face clearly showing his disbelief in the simplicity of Data's solution. "This little thing will destroy that huge station?"
"No," Data replied. "However, if several are used simultaneously in extremely close proximity, it will. We will need at least forty-seven, sir - in all probability, more."
"Well, I guess we'll need some help on this one," Riker replied.
"There is one other detail, sir," Data said. "The Death Star's reactor will be protected from the effects of the devices while its shields are up. They will have to be lowered, or the weapon will be ineffective."
Riker shook his head. There was no way they had the firepower to batter down the Death Star's shields - he doubted a whole fleet could. "There's no other way?"
"No other safe way, sir," Data said. "I have had to abandon our previous line of investigation in light of Seven of Nine's treachery. We dare not risk a plan the Imperials might be aware of; we would more than likely be lured into a trap."
"Yes, but getting the shields down... I don't see where we can get that kind of firepower."
"There is another way besides brute force, sir," Data replied. "I have been analyzing their computer systems, and I believe I can make some modifications to my positronic output port to gain temporary control of the Death Star's main computer, and deactivate the shields. I have noticed that their androids possess an access device that seems to be readily equipped for such routine interfaces."
"You could do that from here?" Riker asked with surprise.
"No sir. I would need to be on board the Death Star at the time in order to access their systems."
Riker shook his head. "We can't transport you over there with the shields up, and if the shields were down we wouldn't need you over there anyway. No, nice try Data, but I'm afraid this plan won't work."
Data shook his head. "I have analyzed their defenses and their mechanics, and can say with all confidence that any other attempt to destroy the Death Star will meet with failure."
Riker sighed. "And how do you propose to get on the Death Star?"
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It had been less than a week, but for Data it was a lifetime in a very real sense, since that was the day his new life had begun. He had exited the Imperial Shuttle on board the star destroyer to give a briefing on Romulan technology to a group of Imperials. He was familiar with Imperial procedures and was not surprised by the escort - their strict adherence to protocol and security was probably one of the reasons for their success. The stormtroopers were polite enough, addressing him as "sir", which was something people outside Starfleet (and sometimes even in) rarely did, but they still maintained that detached attitude they had as they escorted him through the hangar to the lift. He had been surprised when he was lead not to a conference or meeting room or even an auditorium but a single occupant room in the star destroyer. Of course, the single occupant was indeed someone of note: Lord Darth Vader.
"Lord Vader," Data acknowledge politely. After a calculated measure of the precise amount of time that should elapse between a greeting and an inquiry, Data asked, "Where are the other officers, sir?"
"I though we might discuss your future, commander," Vader replied, ignoring the question. "I have been reading about your Starfleet career. Impressive achievements." He leaned forward a bit in the large chamber in which he sat. "Would you care to sit down?"
Data was a bit taken aback by the question. He had heard a great deal about Lord Vader, and whatever one's opinion was, politeness wasn't one of his characteristics. Vader was the head of all Imperial activity in the Milky Way and answered only to the Emperor, and he expected to receive the respect that went with that office. No one sat in Vader's presence. "Yes, thank you," Data replied looking for a chair; he knew it would be dangerous to refuse the Dark Lord's hospitality.
A chair flew across the room, and Data reacted with android reflexes, preparing to deflect the chair before it struck. However, it proved unnecessary; the chair stopped forty-two centimeters from Data and slowly lowered to the floor. "Thank you," Data said as he carefully sat down. The chair was real enough, although how it came across the room of its own accord was a mystery to him; no doubt some other facet of Darth Vader's mysterious abilities. He had to suppress his curiosity over the incident; he knew questioning Lord Vader on the subject would antagonize him, something he didn't want to do.
"According to your file," Vader said as Data took his seat, "you've been in Starfleet for almost thirty years."
"Yes sir," Data replied, curious about the direction of this discussion.
"And you are only at the rank of lieutenant commander? A rank you've held for over ten years?"
"Eleven years, four months, eighteen days..."
"Yes or no will due," Vader interrupted.
"Yes," Data replied, a slight feeling of discouragement.
"I understand you were recently submitted for a command position," Vader said.
"Yes," Data said.
"And that Starfleet refused, despite recommendations from your superiors."
"They felt that now was not the time to-" Data said the hated word, "-experiment in this way."
"And you don't feel angry about this?" Vader asked.
"No."
"Of course not," Vader said, "your emotion chip is no longer active."
Data felt the swirl of feelings he always had when his emotion chip was re-activated. It was a rich experience to him, a chance to enjoy the sensations he heard and read about his whole life. It also shocked him at the moment. "How-"
"Why did you deactivate it?" Vader asked, ignoring Data's remark.
Data hesitated to reply. He didn't like lying, something he'd learned dealing with the Borg. "For personal reasons," he said finally.
"Tell me Data." This also surprised him; he knew Darth Vader never addressed someone in a personal way. Why was he asking him? Data found himself wanting to open up.
"I-" he hesitated, "I am angry, and upset, and experiencing other emotions that I know would be detrimental to the performance of my duties."
"You deny your feelings to keep your ship and Starfleet running effectively," Vader said, his voice a mixture of admiration and disappointment. "Even though they are responsible for the very feelings you have."
"It is... my duty," Data said, and floundered.
"Your duty? Starfleet Command Decoration for Valor. Starfleet Command Decoration for Gallantry. Medal of Honor, with Clusters. Legion of Honor. The Starcross. You have done your duty, Data. You have given Starfleet everything. What have you received for your dedication?"
Data thought for a moment. "Opportunities. I have been able to experience things many individual would not be able to outside of Starfleet."
"And what of the opportunities denied you?" Vader asked. "You have thirty years of experience. How many times were you placed in command?"
Data hesitated. "Twice."
"Yes," Vader said, the contempt obvious. "And did you not display a considerable talent for leading others and commanding a vessel?"
"I did disobey orders," Data said hesitantly.
"You prevented a Romulan incursion," Vader said with pent up aggression. "Your actions ended the Klingon Civil War. Your superiors say you are ready, yet Starfleet won't give you the opportunity to explore your potential out of fear of what you are."
It was hard to fight the anger that was boiling up inside him; he’d kept his emotion chip off almost the entire time since he’d heard the news. And it wasn’t just about this; Vader gave voice to things he'd known his whole life. He thought about all the jokes made at his expense. He thought about the mistakes that were harped on and the achievements that were ignored. How many times had humanity been saved because of him? And yet, time after time, he was referred to as a machine, as a mere object. He was stronger, faster, smarter than any human; even Seven was a moronic slug compared to him, but she didn't need to go to the Academy to become an officer, she was accepted as a senior officer as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Decades of work for Data were glossed over for her, because after all, she was human. Picard called in favors for her; where were the favors for the one who had saved his life countless times?! It was just one more injustice, one more slap across the face. All the times they paid lip service to equality, but in the balance Data was still just a toaster to them, not a person. He'd been thinking this for some time... it was why the Borg Queen came so close to convincing him to join with her. Maybe he'd made a mistake in turning her down.
"It seems that Starfleet is willing to experiment in ways that do not involve rewarding you," Vader commented. "I understand you had a daughter."
Data suddenly felt his anger drowned out by a new sensation. He recognized it as sorrow, and it was terribly unpleasant. "Yes.... her name was Lal."
"What happened Data?"
Data's sorrow was suddenly mixed with feelings of rage and hatred. "They were going to take her away," he said, his voice coming out slightly stilted.
"From her own father?"
Data's sorrow was almost drowned by the swirling feelings that filled his mind. He had never, until now, allowed himself to think about those times, but what had happened had been so wrong. "They killed her," he said through gritted teeth. "The arrogant fools had no idea what they were dealing with, and they destroyed her!"
"They must have had a good reason," Vader said.
"They wanted to examine her," Data said with disgust. "As if she were some bacterial sample they were growing in a lab! They didn't care about her, only about research!"
"Starfleet killed your daughter to study her?" Vader asked with disbelief.
Data said nothing. All he could think about was that arrogant Starfleet admiral insisting that Lal be taken away; about Picard rebuking him for even creating her; about Lal's death in his lab as he tried in vain to save her. He felt a new desire suddenly, one he had never felt before, one it took several microseconds to identify.
Revenge.
"Data," Vader said with sympathy, "Why do you continue to work for Starfleet after all the wrong they've done you?" Vader stood up and stepped down out of his chamber, towering over Data as he sat fuming in his chair. "Join me."
Data looked up at the towering dark lord. "What?" he asked in disbelief.
"Data you are unique," Vader said. "The Empire has countless androids, yet I have never met one like you. Your potential is being squandered. No matter how well you perform you will never be accepted by Starfleet, they have shown this to be true! Join me, and you will have opportunities you never dreamed of." Vader was like the searchbeam of a lighthouse, piercing the fog of Data's rage; a single voice speaking to the very center of who he was. He couldn't help but listen as the Dark Lord spoke, to want to believe what he was being told was the truth. "Data, with your abilities and Imperial resources you can create your own race of androids. You've wanted to be human, when you should embrace the great thing that you are! At my side Data, you will have power that you've never dreamt of! Whole fleet commanders will answer to you Data. You will be given the respect that you've earned and deserve, and the chance to reach your full potential. Data!" Vader reached out his hand, "I want you at my side as we bring order to the galaxy!"
Data looked at the hand and the man it belonged to. He offered things that Data had never considered before, had never imagined would be within his grasp. And, Data thought, he understood. Man and machine too, he had no doubt faced the same challenges as himself, and look at where he stood now. An answer, a purpose, and a chance for revenge on those who had harmed him all these years. He took the hand and rose to his feet, his face twisting into a sinister grin.
And that had been the moment that Data committed himself to the cause of the Empire. He learned about everything that was going on, about the plans to expand the Empire further once the conquest of Romulus and Cardassia was complete, about the growing resistance inside the Federation, and about the Emperor's plans to deal with all of them. Vader offered Data a chance to help make all of this happen, a chance to be at the center of the final destruction of their enemies, and Data jumped at the chance. He would prove again his value, and he knew this time it would be appreciated. His part was the center of the plan actually, the one who'd bait the trap to catch them all and wipe them out. And Data would repay the Federation for the injustice of it all. They were used to him and his right answers. Yes sir, no sir, this is how it's done sir, yes I can accomplish the impossible sir. He wasn't surprised at all that Picard wanted him to work on the project to destroy the Death Star – what a poor choice that was! Everything went perfectly.
Except for Counsellor Troi, that is. She was a danger, Data knew; if she felt his emotions, she'd sense his unbridled hatred for the Federation. He thought turning off his emotion chip was the answer, but she wouldn't have it. Very well, if she left him no choice, then it was her fault in the end, wasn't it? Such a question may have bothered him in the past, but no more. He had completed a diagnostic and found his ethical program had been turned off. Perhaps Vader had done it, he had thought, but didn't care. He was free now, free to see the truth that it had kept from him his whole life. No more would these artificial rules of right and wrong stand in his way; now he had a true purpose. With satisfaction, the program was erased. And unhindered by that, possibilities emerged. Seven of Nine proved the perfect scapegoat... she was regarded with jealous dislike by other members of the crew, and Picard could always be relied on for a bit of good ol' boy anti-Borg stereotyping. And Data had to admit that he enjoyed the idea of heaping scorn on that Borg bitch; Picard had raised her so high... it was that much more satisfying to watch how far she'd fall. It was almost pathetically easy: lifting Seven's authorization code during their work together, slipping it into the computer records for Geordi to find, planting the seeds of mistrust around the ship... and even if he was called on that last score, everything he said were true facts. It was beautiful.
Then Vader wanted to change everything. That had bothered Data some, but realized it was necessary if they were to succeed. Forging a transmission and making it look like Seven's handiwork was simple, and it was satisfying to dupe Picard into voluntarily letting Data put a locator beacon onto the shuttle so that the Imperials could find and remove him and Seven from the picture. Now that she was out of the way he could push the Federation right into the trap.
How will we lower the shields, commander? We won't. But in time, you'll think we can... right before you're reduced to atoms. Hopefully, at the end, you'll realize why it happened... how your species' hypocrisy would spell the downfall of the Federation.
"We will have to explore further, sir," Data said. "But I have no doubt that this will be the key to our victory. In time, we will devise a way, and we will win the day."
Riker was glum, but nodded. "I hope you're right," he said. "But your confidence is inspiring, Data. Keep up the good work."
"Yes sir," Data said. "I assure you, I will not rest until my mission is complete."
Colonel Bast stepped past the Emperor's Guards with slight hesitation. He knew that he had been summoned, and yet still feared they might kill him by mistake, or even intentionally for that matter. They made him nervous; anyone fanatical always did.
Bast had been in charge of analyzing all Milky Way technology and finding ways to incorporate it into the Imperial military. He had accomplished quite a bit actually. It had been he who had deciphered the polarized helium design they'd taken from the Borg. He had found ways to use the existing Federation comm systems to send undetected holographic transmissions. Of considerable note was his accomplishments with the transporter. Bast had been one of the few who hadn't seen the transporter as an abomination –along with the Emperor, given his pet project with the technology. With the exception of moving cargo, no one used the device except Bast. Not on his own person, of course; he didn't like the thought of being disintegrated any more than anyone else. But he'd seen the device's potential use in dealing with another problem that had been placed before him.
The Emperor's plan had required them to capture several Cardassian vessels. Normally this would be child's play, but with the ion cannon being ineffective, another solution had to be found, and unfortunately it fell to Bast. But Bast knew how to find solutions to difficult problems, and after some extensive modifications he put together a weapon simple in its conception but horrifying in its execution. The Empire ambushed a group of Cardassian warships and bombarded them with low-powered shots until a single shield vector failed... and then the entire ship's crew was beamed off into space. He had been promoted to full colonel because of that.
Still, there was so much to do, Bast wondered if he would ever truly be finished. One project would leave his desk and another urgent one would take its place. Borg, Federation, Romulan, Klingon, and other examples of technology that it was his job to adapt and improve upon. But now he'd been give tasks by the Emperor himself, which was always dangerous. The Emperor didn't like delays or failures or setbacks, and when you dealt with alien technology, those things are unavoidable.
"You've finished studying the Borg data?" the Emperor asked. The Emperor was not one you disappointed, and Bast knew it. He had been one of the only survivors of the first Death Star, and saw several others thoroughly disciplined for the failure. He had been spared, presumably for his foresight in that matter. Still, he felt as if he worked with a blade dangled over his head by a thread.
"Yes, your highness," he replied. "The modifications will take approximately two days."
"See to it," the Emperor replied. "Perhaps your efforts will be unnecessary, but we must be prepared. What is it?" The last remark wasn't directed to him, but rather, to a shape that had emerged from the darkness.
"My master," she said with a bow, "Lord Vader's shuttle has arrived."
"Good," he said. "Have Picard brought to me at once."
"Yes master," she said. "What of his companion? The Borg woman?"
"She is of no importance, except as a tool to use against Picard. The report shows he'll be concerned for her well-being..."
"Yes master." She bowed again and departed.
"Colonel," the Emperor said. "The other project... the transporter. How is that proceeding?"
Bast tried to contain its nervousness. "We've made some breakthroughs, your highness, but I am uncertain if this will prove feasible. The prototype will require extensive examination before we can even test it."
"As soon as you've completed the Borg project, I want this to be your top priority," the Emperor said. "Do you understand? I want no further delays."
Bast nodded. "Yes, your highness," he said with a nod, and left, grateful he was doing so on his own feet.
--------------------------------------------------------------
Despite hyperspace, the flight on board the shuttle had been a terribly long one for Picard. Seven was a visible wreck; she insisted that Data had betrayed her, and Picard found it hard to argue logically. But he knew Data... the Empire must have found out through some bug, it was the only possible explanation. But Seven was convinced, and with one person she'd confided in dead and another she believed had betrayed her friendship, she was having trouble coping with her human emotions. But she was resisting her Borg instincts, and in a way Picard was relieved to see that.
The shuttle dropped out of hyperspace, and the Death Star loomed before him. Its very presence caused Picard to shiver despite himself. That was it, Picard thought, the destroyer of worlds, the end to all he had ever known as home. It was a monstrosity that cut to his very soul in a way even the Borg couldn't, because it was so peaceful, almost beautiful in an engineering sense. But it was a Siren, and he knew what it was capable of; beneath that solid structure beat an artificial heart of such power and magnitude that Picard couldn't imagine anything that could withstand its blows. Some natural scenes may convince one there is a god; the Death Star convinces you there is a devil.
As they had approached, the sheer size amazed him. It seemed to keep growing forever and ever, so that its seemingly smooth surface distorted into a collection of towers, spires, and weapons. Oh, yes, there were weapons. Picard counted several large ones as they neared the docking port, and he had little doubt that the station bristled with them. He wondered whether Data and Riker would be able to finish the project without him and Seven. Seeing this terror with his own eyes only reinforced on him the importance of their task of finding a way to destroy it. It had been done before he knew; he just hoped that history would repeat itself.
The shuttle docked, and Picard and Seven were forcefully led out. Seven was taken one way -presumably to the cells- while Picard was led deep into the halls and corridors of the beast. He was finally placed into a lift; when the doors opened, Picard was grabbed by two red clad guards, who pulled him out and almost knocked him to the ground. The stormtroopers remained where they were, and the doors closed. Picard was brought forward, and he saw a large throne, its back currently to him. He was left in the center of the room by the guards, and listened as their echoing footsteps broke the silence.
"Jean-Luc Picard," a voice with ragged edges said. "Captain of the Enterprise. I've been expecting you."
"You could have just asked me to come," Picard said. "We are allies are we not?"
The chair rotated and Picard saw a small, aged man sitting in it, almost ridiculously dwarfed by it. Still the man held his head up high and spoke with a sense of authority and power. "Do you really think you can hide anything from me, Picard? I know that you've been in contact with Captain Price and her defectors for some time now, and that you're planning to betray us."
How much does he know? Picard wondered. If he knew about their plans he might destroy the Enterprise. Of course, if he did know he would have done so already. But, he may simply believe the Death Star is too powerful to be destroyed. Pride is, after all, a fatal flaw, and Picard had seen it snatch defeat from the jaws of victory on more than one occasion. Either way, he had a duty to keep that information to himself. "Whatever my actions," he said, "I and I alone should answer for them. The lieutenant was merely with me at my capture. Let her go free... please."
"She is not your concern at the moment," the man replied. "I am."
"You," Picard said, shaking his head. "You must be the Emperor. You have that aura of self-importance about you."
"If you believe the barbs of someone as small and unimportant as you actually mattered," the Emperor replied, "you are even more deluded than I had thought. And to think Admiral Thrawn had such high regard for you. Pity, you're such a disappointment."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Picard replied. "Now, why have you brought me here? Surely someone as important-" he applied mock emphasis to the word, "-shouldn't waste their time on me unless there was a good reason."
The Emperor's eyes narrowed. "Be very careful Picard. I know far more than you realize, especially about what is to come."
"Really?" Picard replied with sarcasm.
"Your ship, along with several other ships in the Federation, are planning to join the Romulans and their rebellious allies. You will then launch an attack against this station in an attempt to destroy it. It will fail, and your only hope will be destroyed. Your ship, and its crew, will be annihilated. So long, Mr. Laforge, Mr. Travis, Counselor Troi.... oh, but it's too late for that one, isn't it."
Picard's anger burned. "You killed her!" he said, his rage evident.
The Emperor chuckled. "Why would I bother?" he asked. "She's hardly a Federation asset worthy of my attention." He studied Picard for a moment. "But I do know who did."
"Who then?" Picard demanded despite himself. He probably couldn't trust the Emperor, but sometimes a lie can reveal a bit of truth.
"One thing at a time," the Emperor said with a smile. "I have an offer for you. One of great importance."
"I am not interested in what you have to offer."
"The Rebels are refitting their allies ships with superior Imperial equipment," the Emperor continued, ignoring the remark. "It will draw out this war into a long and brutal conflict with millions dead on both sides. Tell me where their base is." He paused. "In return, I'll release you, and your friend. And I'll reveal the identity of the murderer of Counselor Troi." He leaned forward and steepled his hands. "Think about it, Picard. You'll be able to warn them, to spare your ship and the other Federation vessels that will follow your lead into the maw of death. All of this, for the name of the system. A rather small price to pay, to save you and your friends."
"You expect me to believe this?" Picard replied. "You've provided me with no proof of any of this, just vague references to what you think will happen. Well, believe it or not, you are not infallible, no matter what your propagandists say."
The Emperor smiled slightly. "What's your greatest secret, Picard? What is the single most important fact you need to remain hidden?" He pushed a button on his throne, and sound began to echo through the chamber. Picard recognized the voice - it was his own.
"'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?'"
"How did you..." Picard began, and trailed off. The Emperor was right; he knew exactly what was going on.
"'The Death Star is a very, very powerful weapon," his voice said. "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.'" The Emperor shook his head.
"Do you really think you can keep such a secret from me Picard? Everything that is happening, everything that has happened, has happened according to my design. Your Federation is hopelessly dependent on my fleet, your allies, the Klingons, my loyal followers. Your saviors: the Cardassians, the Romulans, even the Rebellion, have no chance. We are here, Picard. Your galaxy is mine. You have fallen as easily before me as the Borg. And you have no hope..." He grinned; it was dark and unpleasant. "Your Borg friend is correct; Data has betrayed you, and this is only the beginning. He will lead your forces into a trap, and they won't suspect a thing until it's too late. They will be destroyed, including the Enterprise and all your friends." Picard wasn't sure what to say. He had no reason to trust the Emperor, but with Seven's accusation, and the recording, and their capture... it was hard to deny it. "But it's not over yet, Picard. I'm giving you a chance," he said, his voice softening. "You can still save yourself and your friends."
Picard hung his head. He did know it, he knew it all. Maybe Q was right, maybe there was no hope for them. They had been taken in, and their refusal to follow their creeds had allowed all this to happen, and there seemed no escape - not this time. "It's time to accept it, Picard," the Emperor continued, his voice filled with regret. "You've put up a good fight, but the time has come to accept the loss. Save yourself, save your friends, save your Federation." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "I know about your dream," he said. "Your vision of the destruction of the Earth. It is very powerful, so I understand your reluctance." He leaned forward. "I give you my personal assurance that the Earth will never be destroyed if you cooperate."
Picard's will had been drained, yet still he tried to resist. "You deceived us before, why should I trust you now?"
"Those were the words of petty bureaucrats," the Emperor replied. "I'm giving you my word of honor, your Earth will be spared. You're human, Picard, like us. Earth will reap all the benefits of the New Order, a new golden age of exploration will begin, and the blessings will be like nothing you've ever dreamed. But to gain it all, you must give up the past, Picard. The old way is the path to death, and resisting it will only cause more needless desolation." He stood up and stepped down from his throne. "It's time to accept the inevitable. Why not join in victory instead of dying in defeat? Spare yourself and your friends needless suffering. For yourself, for the Enterprise... it's time to surrender."
Picard’s downcast eyes suddenly jerked up, and he looked off as a distant memory surged. "The colors must never be struck," he whispered.
The Emperor was confused by the sudden interruption. "What?"
Picard's eyes returned to the Emperor. He spoke, his words still barely above a whisper. "We may lose the battle, maybe even the war itself. But if we do, we will do it fighting for our convictions. We took an oath, all of Starfleet, to defend what we believed was the truth, and to hold to the basic principles of humanity. We swore that we would never forget that our purpose was to seek out new life, not conquer it. We may die, the Federation may fall, and you may even destroy Earth, but as long as these ideals are remembered then my world will never end - and it will be beyond even your power to destroy it." Picard held his head high and when he spoke, it rang out across the room. "I will tell you nothing, and nothing you will ever say or do will change that. The Enterprise will never - ever - surrender."
The Emperor stared unblinking at Picard, the weight clearly evident. Finally, he spoke, his voice a low rumble throughout the dark room as all pretences were dropped.
The turbolift doors opened and Riker marched through the Enterprise towards Science Room 1. Data was going over the final details of the Death Star weapon, so Riker had to identify himself before entering. "I have some mixed news," he said when the door slid open.
Data looked to Riker, then to his collar. "You have been promoted to captain, sir."
"Yes," Riker said, stepping inside. The door closed and sealed behind him. "Captain Picard and Lt. of Nine have been written off as lost."
"So soon, sir?"
"I have the feeling the Empire's pulling the strings on this one."
"Their influence throughout the Federation is great," Data observed. "They seem to have allies everywhere."
"The captain's probably in some Imperial dungeon right now," Riker said. "But for now we don't have anything to go on, and the situation is tight enough as it is. They've given me command of the Enterprise, which means you're my first officer."
Data nodded. "An irony; I could only achieve the goal the captain set for me by his death."
"He's not dead," Riker said sharply. "We are going to find him, do you hear me?"
"Yes sir," Data said. "Absolutely, sir."
"I'm going to need you handling a lot in the coming days, Data," Riker said. "My old duties, Seven's old duties, getting Geordi up to speed as second officer, and working on this. I trust you're up for it."
"Of course, sir," Data said. "You can always count on me, sir."
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The door to Seven's cell opened, and a guard flanked by two stormtroopers came in. "Stand up," he said. Seven complied. "Turn around. Get on your knees, place your hands behind your head." Seven again complied. The guard snapped the binders onto her wrists and yanked her uncomfortably back to her feet. "Time to take a walk," he said. "The colonel has plans for you." He smelled her hair. "I wonder what they might be?" he said in a voice dripping with innuendo.
"Your words do not frighten me," Seven said. "My body is saturated with Borg nanoprobes... I trust I do not have to explain the consequences of sexual intercourse in detail." It was a bluff, of course, but being Borg gave her a natural poker face. Even the stormtroopers looked uncomfortable.
"Let's go," the guard said irritably, and pushed her through the door.
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Captain Riker walked through the halls of Starbase 375, watching the bustle preparing for the overdue Cardassian mission. With Picard gone there was uncertainty of who would take command of the fleet, but obviously it wouldn't be him. But he had to wonder why Janeway had summoned him to the conference room, and if it had anything to do with it. He hoped it wasn't to discuss Seven; he couldn't handle that right now, not so soon after what she'd done to Deanna. As he entered, he realized it had nothing to do with that.
"Captain," Admiral Jellico said, "Have a seat."
Riker looked between him and Janeway; the latter was stone-faced. "I thought you were handling Utopia Planetia," he said as he sat down.
"With Captain Picard's mysterious disappearance and my extensive experience in dealing with the Cardassians, I was assigned to command this mission."
"I see," Riker said neutrally.
"Captain," Jellico said as he leaned forward, "we've butted heads before. I know you don't like me, but the truth is things are too delicate right now for us to hold any grudges. I have to know that you'll always be on the right side of things."
"I have never allowed my feelings to get in the way of my duty, sir," he said firmly, emphasizing the final word.
"I'm not asking about duty, captain," Jellico said. "I'm asking about being on the right side." He set down the cup and saucer he was holding. The two of you are among a very small number of people that have been through the wormhole. I want your opinion of the Empire, strictly off the record, no one's ears but mine."
Riker took a very deep breath. "They're evil, sir," he said finally. "Absolutely, undeniably evil."
Jellico turned to Janeway without a look or comment. "And you?"
"I don't know," Janeway said with a shake of her head. "Quite frankly, we were so... so overwhelmed that we really didn't notice. And Admiral Thrawn was so civil, almost charming."
"Thrawn's very sharp," Riker said. "With all do respect to the captain, I think he played her, the same way he played us."
Jellico stood up and looked out the window of the starbase for almost a minute, not uttering a single word. Janeway and Riker shared a look, but neither said anything. "We have a difficult choice to make," he said finally. "A choice between what we've been trained to do, and what we've been taught to do." He turned back to them. "I've had dealings with the Cardassians for years. I can't stand them in the least." He shook his head. "And yet, even I can't justify what's happened."
"Blowing away an entire planet," Janeway said, "killing all those people..."
"When we first heard of it, we thought it was an exaggerated rumor," Riker said with a shake of his head. "Even I found it hard to believe the Empire could be that brutal."
Jellico nodded slowly. "Now is the time for trust," he said finally. "And I'm willing to make the first move." He paused, closed his eyes, and forced the words out. "I'm defecting to the Alliance."
Janeway's mouth hung open. "You're serious," she said, dumbfounded.
"It goes against every loyal instinct I have," Jellico said. "But it also obeys every instinct that tells me what's right. We've awakened a sleeping giant, and for the good of the Federation -for the entire galaxy- now we've got to kill it."
"You realize you're risking treason telling us this," Riker said.
"You and I have our differences, Will, but are you going to tell me you're on their side?"
Janeway shook her head in disbelief. "I spent over five years trying to get back to the Federation, and now I'm about to side against it."
"Against the Empire," Riker said. "Against the real enemy."
Janeway nodded, still seeming to not quite believe it. "Okay, so the decision is made," she said almost with defeat in her voice. "I don't suppose anyone knows how to defect?"
"Since cards are on the table," Riker said, "we have contact with someone on the other side. I believe that's why the Empire abducted Captain Picard."
"Good, you make the arrangements, I'll see who else I can find," Jellico said. "I just hope this doesn't prompt the Empire to turn the Death Star our way."
Riker, who knew about Q's vision of the future, said nothing. Why worry everyone else needlessly, when there were so many other things to worry about?
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"What time is it," Lando asked, rubbing his eyes.
Han looked over at the chronometer. It took a minute to find it; he wasn't used to the Trilon Aggressor’s control layout. "23:17." He stretched out uncomfortably in the co-pilot seat. His own ship was back at the Rebel base, where a group of seasoned mechanics were taking turns blaming one another for what had gone wrong.
"Any time now," Lando said. He checked the scanner but there was still no sign of any approaching vessels; just the other ships that had come to escort the defecting Federation vessels to the Alliance Base. Fortunately, these Federation defectors were all equipped with functioning hyperdrives and didn't need to head to Romulus for upgrades.
"Overlord, this is the King of Staves," Han said into the communicator. "Say again what the ETA is on the guests."
"They were scheduled to arrive at 2300 hours," the comm replied. "They're overdue."
Lando shook his head. "I sure do hope this isn't an ambush."
"I don't know. If it was an ambush they would've been on time." Still, Han had to admit he was a little nervous himself. The Overlord, the Milton, the King of Staves, and a squadron of A-Wings; not exactly enough to win a major battle with. If push came to shove, they'd need to run for it. A beep from the control panel grabbed his attention, and he reached forward to check the scanner. "Over forty ships," Han said, "Coming at a pretty good click too. The Empire must've installed some top-notch hyperdrives in these ships." Lando powered up the engines and stood by at the controls, just in case.
"All ships, stand by," came the order from the Overlord.
Finally, an odd assortment of vessels appeared out of hyperspace, ranging in size from a Corvette to almost half the size of a Starcruiser. Almost all had that same Federation design: huge saucers, long protruding nacelles, and a pretty thin frame holding it together. All in all, Han didn't care for it too much, but in this case he'd take a fleet of garbage scows if they'd help against the Empire.
"Federation fleet, this is the Overlord," the comm said. "Lower your shields and submit for full scan."
They scanned the fleet for almost an hour, checking for any homing devices of any kind. They were bringing former enemies into their camp, and it would be disastrous if this was some kind of double cross. Fortunately, all of the ships turned up clean; it looked like the defection was genuine. With a note of relief, the ships were sent their new flight plan, and the fleet disappeared into hyperspace.
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As the ships raced through hyperspace, Capt. Price beamed over to the Enterprise, one of her contacts inside the Federation until today. Waiting to meet her was Commander Riker, smiling and extending a hand in welcome. "Welcome aboard the Enterprise," Riker said.
Price shook his hand. "Thank you, commander." Then she noticed his collar. "Captain?"
Riker nodded, a slight look of disappointment on his face. "Captain Picard is missing," he said. "I've been given command of the Enterprise."
Price shook her head. "So the rumors are true. I thought he'd just gone into hiding or something."
"I take it you don't have him," Riker replied, but he knew the answer. "There was a rumor that he wasn't captured by the Romulans. I thought that might be a cover story for his defection."
"No, I wish he did. We can use all the help we can get. Can we talk somewhere in private?"
A short trip later to the ready room, Riker and Price sat down. "Things aren't going well in this war," Price said evenly. "You probably already guessed that."
"I've had my suspicions," Riker said.
"I'm afraid things may even be worse than what you've heard. We can't defeat the Empire, the Klingons, and the Federation. That much is obvious."
Riker nodded. "The Romulans are the only ones able to bring their full force to bear. The Cardassians, I assume, are still reeling from the latest attacks. How about the Rebellion?"
"Quite a few capital ships," Price replied, "some larger than a Star Destroyer. And those fighters can be pretty effective. But overall, right now their major strength is equipment and experience."
"Well, that's certainly better than nothing," Riker replied. "But I see your point. Things don't look good."
"What we've got right now," Price said, "is the Empire with a strangle-hold on our quadrant. They're maintaining control through a combination of brute force, reputation, and propaganda. We can't do much about the first one, but if we can attack those other points, we can at least destabilize their alliances; possibly even bring more systems over to our side."
"What do you have in mind?"
Price slumped in the chair. "That's the problem. We've had quite a few victories since the Alliance was formed, but we're still not doing much damage to their fleet or their reputation. In truth, the Death Star did more damage to that than we did."
Riker nodded. "Most of those who've crossed over did so because of the Death Star."
"I have.... connections, inside the Klingon Council. If we could have one effective victory, I mean something that shows clearly once and for all that we can beat the Empire in a large scale conflict, we could convince them to at least break off their alliance."
Riker leaned back in his chair. "So. We need a plan, something that shows we can defeat the best the Empire can throw at us." He mulled it over, and then decided that it was the time. "I think I may have just the answer you need."
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Lightsabers clashed, and Luke felt he was losing ground.
"Vader... you must confront Vader."
His back was against the wall. He had to stand his ground. There was no other choice left.
"Then.... only then.... a Jedi will you be."
Pain. The pain was overwhelming... but he had to stand his ground.
"You cannot escape your destiny."
He was dying... there was no hope. He could see her worried face before him. He'd known this was coming, knew that if he came here, he wouldn't be leaving again. And he could hear the distant sound of the Emperor, chuckling.
He saw Seven of Nine and the other woman, grappling one another. They were both Borg, then they were both human, and then it seemed to shift, with one or the other becoming a drone, but throughout it all never pausing in their struggle.
"The knowledge and experience of the Jedi -Skywalker- is part of us now. Your resistance is hopeless."
Luke's eyes snapped opened, reflexively reaching for his lightsaber. The images that the Force meditation could bring were sometimes powerful, but he had never felt anything like this before. Sweat glistened on his body, and he wiped his face, neck, and arms with a rag. What did all this mean? Why did these two women and the Borg keep figuring into his visions? He looked up as the door opened and Threepio shuffled into the room. "Oh, excuse me, Master Luke," Threepio said as Luke pulled the long-sleeved tunic on, the one he wore since his training as a Jedi Knight. Leia preferred the traditional outfit, but he always liked this style; it seemed to fit his nature.
"That's alright Threepio," he said, grateful for something else to think about.
"Mistress Leia wanted me to tell you that a very important meeting was taking place, one that you should attend. It's down in the main hall."
Luke finished the straps on his boots and headed down there. The room was packed with all of the highest members of the Alliance. Adm. Riklin sat at the front of the room; he was seen as an unofficial leader in these kinds of meetings, since he had been the Rebels contact with the Romulans. Seated next to him was Captain Price and another Federation officer Luke didn't recognize. Across the room he saw Han, Leia, and Lando, and quickly moved to take a seat next to him. He bumped into a short woman in a Federation uniform along the way. She laughed slightly and apologized. "I'm sorry," she said with a smile, "I'm new around here. I'm Captain Katharine Janeway, Voyager."
A memory triggered in the back of Luke's brain. "Janeway? From the 'Delta Quadrant'?"
She looked at him with a bit of surprise. "My reputation precedes me?"
"We ran into some... acquaintances of yours," Luke said diplomatically. "They had..... many things to say about you." Twenty-seven offended species, and those were the ones they knew about.
"I deny everything," she said with a mock laugh, putting a hand on his shoulder. She made Luke uncomfortable, and as politely as possible he excused himself.
"Make a new friend?" Leia asked. Luke gave her a look, and took a seat.
"Hey, Han," Luke whispered, "you'll never guess who that woman is." He quickly told him.
"Twenty-seven offended species," Lando said quietly with a laugh. "That's almost as many as you, Han."
Han turned to say something, but Riklin stood up. "If I could have your attention, please," he called to the assembled generals, admirals, captains, and leaders. The room quieted down. "We have an important turn of events, one that may shift the balance of power in this war. As you may know, Captain Price, at great personal risk, contacted the Klingon High Council. I now ask you to give her your attention as she makes her report."
Captain Price stood up. "I spoke with a member of the High Council, and while he did not commit Klingon forces to our cause, he has said that a decisive victory over a large Imperial force would probably convince them to at least break off their alliance with the Empire. This, as you know, would go a long way towards tilting the balance of power."
"We have won several victories in the past," a Klatorian called to Price. He was the commander of a small fleet of warships, each of which was barely larger than a Corvette, but at this point any help was needed. "How would this change anything?"
"The target this time would be one that no one could possibly ignore." She paused, so that no one would miss what she was about to say. "We are going to destroy the Death Star."
That wasn't in the orginal, was it?
