How about another fanfic (Manifest Destiny)

[Skelron]

The only problem is the Borg are too smart... assimilate birds to act as advance scouts, ingenious!! All in all keep it up.

[Datana]

The only problem is the Borg are too smart... assimilate birds to act as advance scouts, ingenious!!

Probably wasn't a bird -- birds aren't mammals. Maybe a bat or some weird type of flying squirrel? In any case, this really is a lot smarter than the Borg have ever been, and that can only be a good thing story-wise.

[Mark S]

The only problem is the Borg are too smart... assimilate birds to act as advance scouts, ingenious!! All in all keep it up.

Yeah, I'm trying to make the ST races into more than just "cliches of themselves". I think it's more interesting. I'm sure I'll lapse into it sometimes.

[Eleas]

"Yeah, I'm trying to make the ST races into more than just "cliches of themselves". I think it's more interesting. I'm sure I'll lapse into it sometimes."

Sounds good. Anyway, I like this. Please continue.

[Mark S]

Upon landing, the Borg had begun to execute two objectives. The first was simple and automatic for the drones. The total assimilation of all technology and sentient life. The second objective was new. The collective had rarely come across a starship that could put up as much of a fight as the one that had destroyed their cube. That technology had to be assimilated. It would surely aid in the assimilation of hundreds of species that had been eluding them for years.

To that end the collective had assimilated hundreds of small, highly mobile, indigenous life forms and sent them to search for the unusual craft. The plan had been successful. In a matter of hours the chain of animal spies had grown to encompass the whole world and had found the black ship, with it's crew, where they had extrapolated it would be. Now all that was left was to reach the far continent and strike.

Unfortunately, that was not an easy task. After the initial population of the area had been assimilated, the Borg found that all of the transportation devices, from cars to transporter pads, that they came across, had been destroyed. Even with their exponential expansion rate, they were making slow progress getting to the pockets of sentient life that had not found room on an evacuating ships. Then there was the great world ocean. The drones had no choice in crossing this but to either wait for new transportation to be constructed or start walking across the bottom. They did both.

The first of the cybernetic horde to reach the other side of the ocean arrived in a single, twenty person, carrier. The hovering vehicle hummed over the deserted sands of the beach without stopping and headed straight for the closest city. There, they were met with a much greater defense then they had seen at the initial landing sight. The people left on this continent had had longer to dig themselves in and prepare. All of them were Starfleet officers and enlisted who had given up their places on the escape ships for a civilian. They knew they couldn't stop the Borg but expected to make every step as difficult as possible. Many had rigged explosives to their bio-signs so that they could get one last stab if assimilated.


The twenty Borg drones showed no signs of being impressed with any of it. The rectangular carrier flew impassively over the first barricade and dropped to the ground right in the midst of the defenders. One by one they walked, mechanically down the carriers ramp, raising their scanning arms to cybernetically ‘sniff' the air. The first was knocked to the ground by a single phaser from the doomed crowd, a smoking, cauterized hole through it's head. With this gauntlet thrown down, the Borg commenced their assault.

With it's exit ramp still open, the shoe-box transport let loose with a storm of brilliant green energy. Row upon row of Federation defenders fell to the onslaught, their bodies like fruit dropping from trees, before the survivors could even think of retreat. Some of these lucky ones tried to pull their fallen comrades with them. They new the truth. These were not killing blasts, the Borg weren't that friendly. The fallen had only been stunned, making it easier for the drones in the carrier to assimilate them.

As the cyborg assault team began doing just this, one blue collared officer hoisted his unconscious yellow wearing friend onto his shoulders and dashed away as fast as he could. Which was surprisingly fast considering the lankness of the runner and the middle-aged thickness of his baggage. This was no ordinary human.

Explosions could be heard from blocks behind the two as the booby-trapped defenders gave their final gesture of defiance. The blasts soon became muffled and then stopped all together as the drones first began containing the bodies in force fields then learned to identify and disarm them. The Blue Collar stopped and turned, readjusting his load, resetting the frequency of his phaser, and checking his photographic memory all at the same time. There should be roughly fifty or so now, he thought. Great place you picked for a vacation, O'Brien. Just great.

In the distance, a small pack of five survivors ran past the street, trailing phaser fire in their wake. Moments later a pair of Borg drones marched quickly after. Green energy fields splashed to life around the Borgs, dissipating the phaser beams as they sought to connect with their enemy.

O'Brien's limp body was shifted, the phaser neatly aimed and fired, and one of the drones ceased to exist in a flash of orange light. The creature's partner never turned it's attention from it's pursuit.

"I'll have to lower the power setting or this thing will be useless before I get ten blocks," the dashing man said to himself and his Irish friend.

A groan came from the dangling man in reply. Good, the effects of the stun beam were wearing off quickly. Scanning the area again, the Blue Collar eased his load to the ground and checked the man's vitals. Another groan was his thanks.

"J-Julian." The accented O'Brien looked up at his friend in confusion and rubbed his throbbing temples. "What's going... Oh yeah, never mind. Did we win or am I having a Borg dream?" An explosion in the distance turned both of their heads. "I guess that answers that."

"Come on, Chief," Julian said as he helped his friend to his feet. "We have to get away from here. The Borg have probably tripled in size by now and are crawling all over the place looking for survivors. This area isn't safe."

"Yeah," the Chief answered, changing the frequency of his weapon. "but this whole bloody world isn't safe, now is it?"


The two Jedi were the first to hear the sounds of approaching battle in the far distance. This was just the final alarm however, they had both felt the ripple of Borg assimilation steadily closing. "We must move quickly now," the older Jedi ordered. "Finish whatever repairs you are doing and leave the rest. We'll have to make due with what we've done so far."

From across the landing platform Leekta and Kellor rounded a corner and came into view riding an open-topped hover car. The car zoomed over the distance to abruptly stop in front of the watching human women. "The Starfleets are in trouble," Leekta informed the two. "The Borg are making a concerted effort to head this way and are only being slowed down slightly. Those soldiers are fighting a glorious battle against impossible odds. We have to help them!"

"We may have no choice." There was a look of grim determination in Kellor's eye. "Leekta's right, they're heading for this ship. They want it. They want what it can do. If we can't slow them down enough for your robots to finish repairs then we'll all be dead anyway. You two stay here and work, we'll help the others as best we can."

"No," Jenna answered. "I'm coming with you to help. Mai, stay here and finish the work. You're a better mechanic then me anyway."

"But..."

"No buts." The finality in the even voice was clear. "I need you to protect the ship until we get back. I'll contact you if I run into any problems." Then to the Klingons, "You'll need to use some of the more powerful weapons in the hold."

Kellor shook his head. "From what I've heard about the Borg, they won't be of any more use."


The two men stopped their constant jog to rest at the corner of two seemingly endless streets in the deserted city. Chief Miles O'Brien, the older and less active of the two, put his hands on his knees and pulled air in with long, heavy breaths. His friend, Doctor Julian Bashier, stood watch. He had hardly broken a sweat.

"Are you sure you can keep this up, Chief?" the Doctor asked, putting a hand on O'Brien's back.

"I'm going to have to, now, aren't I, Lieutenant," the older man said through gasps for air. "I don't see much choice in the matter." He looked up in annoyance at his genetically enhanced friend.

Far down the street in the direction that they had come, the two friends watched as a collection of Borg drones moved methodically forward. This was the same scene they had been watching since the initial attack. The drones had followed them unerringly as the pair had fled down streets, allies, parks, and through buildings and tunnels. They never picked up speed nor slowed, they never stopped, and if they ever lost the trail, a different set of drones would take up the chase once they made contact. It never ended.

Bashier and O'Brien had been running away like this for the better part of the day. They kept an easy pace and took potshots at the drones whenever they had to stop, but there was nothing they could do to make a clean escape. At this point the phasers were pretty much useless and the run was taking it's toll. On O'Brien anyway.

When the small troop of Borg had reached the mid point of two soaring buildings the two men again raised their weapons and fired. Not at their enemy, but at the reenforced concrete of the buildings' bases. The drones were shielded, the buildings were not. With a moments worth of phaser fire the two buildings that had been facing off with each other for who knew how long slowly fell forward, right on top of the passing Borg. Dust and debris billowed down the street with the thundering sound of the crash but no sign was left of the pursuers. The two men began to move again.

"Where are we headed anyway?" Chief O'Brien asked as they started down an adjoining road.

"Who knows?" was Bashir's response. "We may come across other holdouts. If we can find a way to the shuttle platforms we might be lucky enough to find a ship that no one was able to get to."

"Yeah," O'Brien said sardonically, "what are the chances of that?"

"Miles, you have to look on the bright side," this came heaping with false humor. "I'm sure Ezri got Kako and the rest of your family off the planet, and neither of us have been assimilated yet. With luck like this we can't help but find a stray ship. For the record though, I'm never meeting you for a vacation again."


Six Borg had felt the hood of the nimble hover car carrying the two Klingons and the Jedi before it came to a crashing halt, completely inoperable. Upon impact, the Klingons dove from the sides of the vehicle to come to rolling stops, disruptors already firing at the phlegmatic drone collective sieging a group of five Starfleet officers. The Jedi had taken a higher road. Standing up in her seat, Jenna had flipped back, away from the crash to land on her feet ten meters from the nearest enemy. This was her first good look at the Borg; humanoid, but as much machine as man. A quick flash of the infamous Sith of resent history, Darth Vader, filled her mind.

The five Starfleet officers of various humanoid species cheered at the sight of their saviors and doubled their efforts against the drones. They had long since forgotten their useless phasers and had taken up branches and pieces of metal debris for weapons. The Borg shields did not seem to defend against matter, just energy.

Phasers may now have been useless, but the Borg had not yet adapted to Klingon disruptors. Kellor and Leekta bounded through the ranks of the drones, firing and changing frequencies at a moments notice. Adding to the damage was the fact that it took a round of blasts before the drones even recognized the Klingons as hostile. Soon, however, the battle was joined by both sides and the area turned into a mass of flailing and swinging bodies.

One officer, a woman with skin that was flushing green instead of red and had pointed ears, managed to get her hands around a number of unidentified tubes connecting the back of a drone's head to it's waist. With a sharp tug the connection was broken but her enemy showed no signs of relent. In fact, with a total lack of feeling in it's eyes, the creature grabbed her shoulder and injected the woman with nano-probes in one mechanical motion. Immediately the pointed eared woman fell as if dead, her skin now rapidly turning the strange mottled grey of her attacker.

From her distance, Jenna calmly ignited her lightsabre and moved to the defense of another of the hard-pressed officers. It was a blue skinned fellow in a standard uniform with yellow collar. He was doing his best to keep the probing injectors of the Borg at bay with a metal rod but finding the drone's strength more than he could handle. With almost a casualness, Jenna strode to the man's defense, lopping the arms off the cyborg with one swipe of her glowing blade. With a quick change of direction the creature was cut in two at the chest. The blue man stared in wonder, hardly believing he was alive.

"Ah!" Leekta cried from the Jedi's left, now using her dagger to great effect. "You have to tell me where I can get one of those!"

The Jedi wasn't listening, however. Two drones had targeted her for assimilation and were closing in with dead-eyed determination. With a calmness to match her enemies, Jenna waited until the two had reached just the right distance and then swiped both of their heads off with one fluid sweep. The green beam of energy hummed in the afternoon air as it traveled it's arc and returned to the blithe ready position at the woman's side. It wouldn't stay there for long. The threat of the Borg was not their ferocity but the sheer relentlessness of their attacks. Three other drones now moved to detain or destroy the woman in black.

The three antagonists approached from three different sides, one closing from behind. The Jedi didn't move to attack, didn't turn in hopes of having all three in her view at once, didn't even raise her lightsabre to a more appropriate ready position. Instead, she stood silently waiting again. They would come to her. And they most certainly did.

The first drone to come within killing distance raised it's hands right away to ready it's injector. It's arms didn't match the length of the woman's sword, however, and the cyborg was met by a lightning quick thrust to it's belly. This strike had come backed by more strength then any before. Jenna's instincts had told her to and she had obeyed as she always did. And for good reason. As the tip of the lightsabre closed on the Borg, a green energy shield flashed to life in an effort to block the killing push. They had learned. It was to no avail though, the extra strength the Jedi had put in her strike was enough to drive the blade through and soon it was cutting up and out of the unfortunate drones head.

Not wasting time to consider the personal shields these Borg seemed to be able to emit, Jenna threw one hand in the direction of the next closest opponent, sending it flying back to crash against a near by wall. The last of the attackers was no more lucky than his companions. Without looking behind her, the swordswoman slashed her blade back, separating the drone at the waist. Despite it's protection.

Meanwhile, Kellor was busy keeping his own opposition at bay. The Klingon had backed himself into another of the Starfleet officers and had replaced his disruptor with a long, jagged piece of the car wreckage. Together, the two of them had managed to hold off being assimilated with nothing less than luck and sheer stubbornness. Things were becoming tight, however, and there was no room to move, much less fight. All of the Klingon's strikes were either blocked or had no effect. Then, as if distracted by a loud noise, all of the drones attacking the pair turned and began walking away. It made no difference to Kellor. That was just the chance he was looking for to lop the things head clean off.

All over the battle ground the Borg were stopping their fights and turning in mass to face the one that was giving them so much trouble. In fact, Borg seemed to be showing up from other areas to crowd the single human female that refused to succumb to the force of assimilation.

Kellor scanned the surroundings for other survivors besides himself and the human at his side. There was another human on the far side of the street but no sign of Leekta or anyone else. Then he saw her, the last member of his crew. She was lying face down on a pile of drone bodies, unmoving. Kellor rushed to her, the other man instinctively following along, not knowing what else to do. Upon reaching the macabre monument to Leekta's fighting prowess, the Klingon captain nudged his comrade over with the toe of his boot. She was alive, unconscious and a definitely Borg shade of grey. His entire crew had now died in the company of these two human women. At least they had gone down fighting.

Taking his dagger from its place at his side, Kellor knelt down and delivered the final blow to the neck of his hopeless friend. Wiping his blade off on a Borg body and replacing it in it's sheath, he then pried the warrior-woman's own dagger from her cold, dead hand and threw it down into the chest of one of her fallen enemies with a dull thud. Finally, the mourning captain lifted his head to the sky and howled his warning to the heavens. None of the Borg seemed to care, the humans, on the other hand looked even more nervous then before. If that was possible.

In the center of a milling, churning mass of Borg drones, a lone knight stood, patiently waiting for her next attacker to step forward. The pile of limbs and bodies from those who had come before was constantly growing in size and being swept away by others ready to take their place. There was no short supply of those. If nothing else, the Borg had determination. But the knight stood her ground silently and dealt with each opponent as they came. Be they singly or all together.

The point had come when all of the Borg activity centered around the one woman. Somehow, she knew it. As if receiving a cue, the Jedi extinguished her weapon, returned it to her belt, and raised her hands, all in one fluid gesture. The effect this had on the gathering of drones was up-lifting to say the least. At that moment, the entirety of the Borg crowd shot into the air in a massive, writhing ball, and hovered, suspended like a morbid piece of zero-gravity artwork.

"Now," the woman said, lowering her hands, as the remaining three rushed to her side, "what do I do with them?"

The only answers she received were breathless demands to know how she was ‘doing that'. Not from Kellor though, he wasn't surprised by anything anymore. "Can't you shoot them into the sun?" He wasn't necessarily being serious but one never knew.

Jenna furrowed her brow as if thinking, "I suppose there is no reasoning with these Borg, is there."

"Not once they get their mind set on something." The Klingon shook his head. Was she actually considering what he had suggested in jest? "You could always send them up into the sky and let them drop?" That would be something to see.

"Don't you think that's a little gruesome?" The human woman spoke as if scolding the other.

"So's assimilation." The quite statement came from one of the two remaining Starfleet officers. He was a smaller man with mouse brown hair and a haunted look on his face. The Jedi looked over to him and felt his pain immediately.


Mai-Men sat idly on the top of the ship watching the droids effect the final repairs. She had tried to watch her master's battle through the Force but found that her excitement and longing to be a part of the action disrupted her vision. In the end the girl had to content herself with watching the D9's scuttle about and trying to keep her mind open to signs of attack.

She didn't have long to wait. The first drones the young Jedi saw came methodically from around a building some two hundred meters away. She had plenty of time to jump down from her perch and walk purposefully toward them. There were two and the pair did not stop at her approach or even when she was right in front of them. Instead, the oblivious duo walked past, on a direct course for the girl's ship.

"Hey," Mai said out loud in exasperation and spun to watch the backs of the two Borg recede toward her ship. "No you don't."

Calling on the Force, the girl lifted the drones into the air and deposited them back down with her between them and their target. The pair, again, seemed totally oblivious to anything being amiss and began their trek to the matte black craft anew. These Borg certainly were a stubborn bunch.

As she stared in wonder at her adversaries, trying to think of some way to dissuade them from their goal, the Jedi began to notice other drones emerging from the distance. Some singly, some in groups. All seemed to be converging on her landing platform.

Oddly, she sensed no danger to herself from these strange cyborgs. They were only going after the ship. Even if the vessel hadn't been their only means of escape, however, there was no way she was going to hand it over to another power. Having it's technology fall into the hands of anyone in this galaxy was expressly and adamantly forbidden by the Republic. At this point in time anyway.

Things were quickly getting out of hand. The first pair of drones had now almost reached the ship and there were others who would soon be in range as well. Pulling her lightsabre from her belt and igniting it, the Jedi burst into an inhuman sprint, overtaking her opponents in seconds. Without stopping, she swiped the legs from under the two, despite their shields, and continued passed, under the ship, to confront the next closest group. The four D9 droids twittered to themselves from around the ships outer hull.

Mai lifted her glowing blade to the four emotionless challengers determined to reach her ship and wondered if their shields would get stronger with each encounter with her sabre. The group of four split in the middle to circumvent the obstacle that had placed itself in their path. A second later they were all without heads.

Looking around again to assess the area, Mai found yet another group of Borg, this time only three, swiftly approaching from the ship's aft. On the opposite side, a pair was striding in, flanked by a group of four on each side. To make matters worse, the original pair was still advancing, dragging themselves along hand over hand.

"Where are the remotes when you really need them?" the girl said to herself as she thrust her left hand to the Borg moving towards the bow of the vessel and used her Jedi speed to reach the aft group for a lightning fast attack.

Ten Borg drones were scattered like dust by a Force that did not register on their sensors a split second before another three were confronted by a whirling dervish that barely did. A moment later a young Jedi apprentice was standing in a pile of dismembered body parts and the Collective was registering three more losses.

Without thinking, Mai shifted her lightsabre ever so slightly across her body and blocked a lance of green energy that stabbed from the edge of the platform. Now they were shooting. Things definitely were getting out of hand.

Blocking another series of blasts and moving to intercept yet another mass of drones, the Jedi reached for the comlink on her belt. "Master," there was a hint of desperation in her voice, "I need you at the ship! I'm being attacked from all sides." The two crawling drones were summarily eliminated. For good this time.

"We'll try to get to you as fast as we can, Mai," Jenna' s voice assured over the link. "We've gotten ourselves pretty far from the platform though. You'll have to hold out for a while longer. I know you can do it Mai-Men. Feel the Force flow. Don't think, do. I'll be with you as soon as I can. May the Force be with you."

"Please hurry, Master. I don't know if I can handle so many of them." It was ten to one as the Jedi put her comlink away and focused her concentration on the fight at hand. The closest drone raised it's hand and fired it's stream of energy at the lone defender. Three of the attacker's companions were twitching on the ground before Mai angled the beam back at it's master. By this time two others had moved to flank the young woman, both extending nano-probe injectors menacingly forward. Striking out at one with her foot, Mai thrust her lightsabre into the mechanized gut of the other and split it up the middle. The drone that was kicked tried desperately to catch the offending leg and inject it but the attack came too swiftly and the leg was gone seemingly before it had arrived. It was soon replaced by a green energy blade that severed both arms at the elbows.

There still should have been four left of this group, however, Mai-Men was faced with only two. The others had taken the opportunity to reach the ship and begin assimilation. More had reached the ship as well while the woman had been fighting. It was just too much area for one person to defend. Even if that person was a Jedi.

"No!" Mai lashed out at the remaining pair in frustration, finishing them in one sweep, and spun to cut the other two from her ship. That done, the girl again focused her energies on the Force and watched, panting in satisfaction, as the other Borg on the ship, as well as the other Borg anywhere near the ship, flew into a jumble at the edge of the platform.

From their vantage at the side of a cargo depot, O'Brien and Bashir watched the girl in black make an incredible leap to the top of the strange craft and douse the blazing green sword in her hand.

"How do you suppose she did that?" O'Brien wondered to his companion.

"Which part?" The whole scene had seemed surreal to the doctor. It was almost enough to take your mind off of the Borg.

"Well whoever she is we'd better get over to that ship." The chief wanted to say that the girl could use their help but in truth it was more the other way around. "The Borg are getting to their feet again."

With that the two began their mad dash for the sanctity of the alien vessel. They didn't need to waste the effort, the drones weren't interested in them at all. All shots were being directed at the woman on top of the ship. More surprising for the two men, all the shots were being directed right back at the drones. In what seemed like a weird, fast-forwarded game of tennis, the lone woman dodged some beams with lightning reflexes and deflected others back to their originators. She stepped and turned like a dancer on a target range.

"Get in the ship! And power up whatever's left of the weapon systems!" The two men assumed she was talking to them and began desperately looking for a way into the sealed vessel. On the hull, the four remaining D9's scurried from their respective locations and disappeared into the tight hole they had come out from. After a long moment a panel opened on the crafts upper hull and a squat double cannon emerged. Underneath the ship, a twin location, blasted and broken, twitched and smoked and then fell dead again.

Flipping down out of the way of the now blazing turret, Mai-Men landed with her humming sabre extended toward the newcomers.

"Take it easy," Bashir raised his open hands and spoke calmly. "You looked like you could use some help. We thought you were talking to us up there."

"We're just trying to get off this planet the same as you." O'Brien put in. "We were hoping you could give us a lift?"

The lightsabre was down before the man had finished. "Sorry, it's been a long five minutes."

Above, the cannon blasts thundered into the ring of approaching Borg, turning large portions of their offensive into vapor. "What is that? A plasma weapon?" The chief asked as his engineers nature took over and he ran a hand over the smooth hull of the alien ship.

"What, the blaster?" Mai specified. "I don't know. I assume so. As long as it works I don't care."

As if in answer to this statement the rain of fire stopped short. Smoke began to billow out anew from the charred remains of the keel turret followed by an accompanying shower of sparks from the upper guns. Immediately, an insectoid droid was clattering out of their little hole to race for each of the cannons. The one dangling above the three humans shook it's two front claws in agitation before tearing into the smoking wreck with abandon. O'Brien could only look on in amazement.

Not for long though, the Borg were on the move again.

[Mr Bean]

Hey Part Six already?
Most read, intiazting random posting shutdown until finsihed


*Edit
Just as good as the last one, Better maybe, Now off with those nasty Borg

[Crown]

Am I detecting a possible love interest by Bashir here? Or am I the only one?

[Eleas]

*crush* *chomp* *chew* *swallow*

More.

*burp*

[Cpt_Frank]

Good. More.

[Crown]

I am gonna sound soooo neady but hey! More please!

[Singular Quartet]

<Screaming 3-year-old brat voice>MORE!!!!</screaming 3-year-old brat voice>

[willburns84]

More more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more more...

[Mark S]

As if in answer to this statement the rain of fire stopped short. Smoke began to billow out anew from the charred remains of the keel turret followed by an accompanying shower of sparks from the upper guns. Immediately, an insectoid droid was clattering out of their little hole to race for each of the cannons. The one dangling above the three humans shook it's two front claws in agitation before tearing into the smoking wreck with abandon. O'Brien could only look on in amazement.

Not for long though, the Borg were on the move again.

"Great," O'Brien moaned. "You wouldn't happen to have any more weapons like that, would you?"

With a snap-hiss the green blade came back to life. "This? No," the Jedi answered, "but we have tons of other stuff in the cargo hold. Maybe you two could find something in there."

"Right," agreed Bashir, looking for some means of getting into the ship. "How, exactly, do we get in?"

Mai took a few quick steps to the rear of the vessel and pulled a concealed panel open. Punching a series of alien symbols on a key pad, the cargo ramp began cycling down. "Make it quick though," she advised. "I can't hold all of them off forever and I don't like having the ramp down like this."

"Right." Both men were already up the ramp and inside the ship.

Mai-Men stood ready at the ramp as the Borg drones advanced nearer and nearer. In anticipation, the girl began swinging her blade idly back and forth. The sound was like a swarm of bees lost in a maze, first going one way, then the next. Her enemy was taking its time now. They had learned some respect for the girl it would seem. Or they were moving into position for a mass strike.

Then she saw it. A split second before the first drone fired, before all the drones fired simultaneously actually, the girl was flooded with the image of the Borg attack. In that split second, the lithe young woman deactivated her weapon and leapt up to attach herself to the fuselage of the ship, mimicking one of the D9 droids. Once attached she phased from sight. Not a hard task considering the coloring of the ship and her clothes.

The smell of ozone permeated the air of the landing platform as the Borg ceased their onslaught and, as one, moved closer. Where had their target gone? The jump had been so fast that at first the drones believed she should still be in her original position. There was even some debate as to whether the target had not been vaporized. That was dismissed off hand because of the lack of residual trace molecules. It finally took the action of one drone looking up at the hull before switching off it's thermal imaging system to locate the prey.

They were all around the ship now, some making straight for the Jedi, others going for the open entrance. Mai was running out of ideas and feelings of hopelessness were beginning to creep into her conscious. With a sigh of resignation, she closed her eyes to the walking nightmares around her and tried to open herself fully to the Force as she had seen her master do so many times before.

Dropping from the ship and lighting her sabre at the same time, Mai tore through the surrounding drones in one wide arcing swipe. Soon the Borg were firing once again. It was to no avail. Their target was simply too fast. And in such a clumped up group, the Borg's numbers soon turned against them.

A hail of energy fire shot out at the Jedi from all sides like the spokes of a giant wheel. In answer, she leapt impossibly into the air, arcing over the crowd and landing with a roll that allowed her lightsabre to slice through a row of opponents as she passed. All the drones that had fired were subsequently killed be their own counterparts.

Diving again, the woman in black this time came up running at incredible speed. The green light trail of her blade marked the path of her killing sprint for a moment and then was gone, like the lives of the drone victims. Mai-Men looked on all of this from somewhere in her own mind. She was not in control any longer, the Force was. She was just a passenger on the ride.

Elsewhere on the platform, a group of drones was heading for the invitingly open cargo ramp. They reached the seemingly unguarded entrance and raised their sensor arms for a preliminary survey of the interior. What they found were the energy beams of two Romulan disruptors contacting with their cybernetic chests. More fire came charging down immediately after as Bashir and O'Brien defended their position from behind two immense crates.

That wasn't the duo's only weapon though. Not by a long shot. Both men were strapped down with weapons of every shape and size. Both men represented an arsenal of some of the quadrant's most highly advanced weapons. Most importantly, both men fought with the knowledge that this was their last hope.

Side by side the men of Starfleet fought, changing frequencies together, changing weapons together, even hollering war-cries together. The two had actually fought a similar last stand battle as this one in the past. That, however, had been in a holosuite, where death is not quite so permanent. Other then that, the two battles weren't that different, aside from the girl, and the only big surprise they got was when the Klingon disrupters had no effect.

Still, as good as they were, the trio of defenders was being badly pressed. It would not be long now before the Borg had adapted to every one of the weapons at the two men's disposal. And the Jedi... Even the Force had trouble fighting twenty opponents at once when confined to a human frame.

And the Borg had changed their strategy. No longer were they confining themselves to simply capturing the three and their ship. Now the drones were firing their weapons to kill. The ship was their prize, losing three new drones, even if one would be an exceptional assimilation, was an acceptable loss.

Then, once again, the battle shifted. From the right side of the landing platform a new group emerged. Not drone re-enforcements this time, but a tired, ragged bunch led by a middle-aged woman dressed in priestly black.

Seeing her protégée swarmed by dozens of drones and in obvious trouble, Jenna burst forth like a lioness to endangered cubs. Almost faster then the human eye could track, the woman ran, using the Force to push everything out of her way. She could sense the strain on the young Jedi, the girl couldn't keep up her pace for much longer.

And she was right. The Jedi master reached her apprentice only in time for a first hand view of the younger woman being injected from behind by the lucky thrust of a drone who just happened to be in the way when the girl was back-stepping. Horror played for a split second across the master's face before she regained control. In almost slow motion, Jenna watched Mai-Men fall to the ground, her skin greying rapidly, and heard the girls lightsabre fizz away to nothing but the hilt. In the background, Kellor could be heard screaming in rage and charging the mass of drones that surrounded his two Jedi friends, the only people he had left in the galaxy.

All drone activity swarmed to Jenna. Everything else was ignored. With all of the bodies pressing in on her, the Jedi had no other choice but to leap away to a clearer location. As she fell back to the ground she saw the Klingon, steel rod in hand, rushing to the Borg, swinging with wild abandon. She could see most of the Starfleet people charging in as well. They were moving to her landing position though. She could tell they would try to stop her from saving Mai-Men. They didn't need to waste the energy. For the first time in ten years the woman could not sense the presence of her student.

It seemed like an impossibility. The girl was right there in the milling crowd of drones, still alive. It was hardly noticeable but she was moving ever so slightly. But it wasn't Mai-Men. The Jedi knew it in the bottom of her heart. The body was now just another drone in the Collective. One very special drone.

Special indeed. Even if Jenna had wanted to wade into the drones, lightsabre in hand, it would have been to no avail. Mai's limp body was being picked up by one of them, oddly enough, as gently as if it were carrying a baby. Using the rest of the group as a shield, this lone Borg ran, actually ran, from the scene, taking it's precious cargo to a safer location. Once it was gone the rest of the drones turned their attention back to assimilating the Jedi' s vessel.

"Everybody get in the ship!" Jenna shouted as she swept the Borg presence away from the landing platform.

O'Brien and Bashir kept everyone covered as the group of defenders hurried up the ramp into their salvation. Jenna's eyes took one last sweep of the area to make sure they were not forgetting anyone and made her own way towards the two waiting men. The men who had probably bought Mai-Men more time then she would have had alone.

When the Jedi entered her ship she immediately knew they were one person shy. Kellor had not gotten on yet. The Force told the woman not to bother waiting for him. The Klingon had rushed into the crowd of Borg in a blind battle rage.

He had hoped to free his young human companion, or at least give her the honor of being killed by a friend. One drones head after another succumbed to the swing of his improvised weapon as he plowed through. In the end though, the Klingon was hopelessly out numbered and was pulled down by countless uncaring cybernetic hands.

In seconds the ship was off the ground and rushing into the atmosphere. A few more seconds and a blockade of hundreds of refugee ships filled the plasteel screen. Hails began bombarding the Jedi vessel from all sides, but they were ignored. The sleek, black craft just sped past into deeper space.

O'Brien was in the cockpit trying to make sense of the controls. "Aren't you going to wait here for Starfleet to come? Aren't you going to help clear the planet?" He asked as the other ships zipped past the screen.

"No. I'm taking you back to your homeworld." Jenna didn't want to spend any more time in this Force forsaken galaxy then she had to.

"But I don't want to go back to Earth!" Miles argued. "My family's on one of those ships. I need to make sure they're okay!"

The middle aged woman turned calmly to the yellow-collared man. "Your wife and children are fine and you will be able to find them once you are home. Now sit down and be quiet or leave." There was no harshness in the command, only an assured finality. The Chief sat.

"Good," the woman continued. "Now help me find this Earth on the charts so we can get out of here."


Picard watched out the front screen of the strange shuttle craft as it swept away from the Enterprise and turned toward the wormhole. Passing before the captain's eyes, the growing fleet of Federation vessels, now ten strong, was soon replaced by the looming sight of the great tunnel in space-time. Despite his awkwardness, T-2C5 was an excellent pilot and maneuvered the small ship as steadily as anyone.

Behind him, the captain could hear Data adjusting his dress uniform one more time. He did the same and took a quick look at the notes on his data pad. The excitement of a first-contact situation was like nothing else in the universe. This was what he lived for.

Then, with a flash of light and an odd feeling of being pulled forward one molecule at a time, the shuttle was through and the three occupants were greeted on the other side by an armada of titanic proportions. At least two hundred of the wedge shaped ships, like the one from the earlier attack, floated in a grid formation around the wormhole's exit. Around them were hundreds more smaller ships, some long and thin, some short and squat. Here and there, somewhat closer to the spacial rift, sat tubular vessels that seemed as though they were covered in vast blisters. The most striking view, however, was of the ship that hung back, behind the hustle and bustle of everything else. It was the veritable size of a city and seemed to loom like a great storm cloud over everything that happened. Picard's mind was boggled at the industrial capacity it must have taken to produce a ship of that size. Let alone all the others going on about their business.

"We shall have to inform Starfleet of the need for more ships." Data told the captain softly.

"Aye, Mr. Data," Picard answered. "For what good it will do us."

After a moment of flying through the amassed fleet, it became apparent that the shuttle was in fact heading for the massive, arrowhead shaped, city ship. The command ship, Picard would learn.


Aboard the Super Star Destroyer ‘Republic Dawn', Captain Pooda sat back and admired his new office one more time. Finally the Force had been with him and the ‘powers that be' had decided to leave him in command even thought the operation had escalated. If things kept up he might be an admiral soon. More likely he'd be filed away and forgotten, but at least he'd have a Command ship under his feet.

The door buzzed. Crap. It was probably that Xezzaron Croc again. Pooda's thick body shivered at the mere thought of the biologist. It wasn't the fact that he was of a species of reptilian carrion eaters, but that the man looked like a dead member of a reptilian species! Milky white eyes, constantly flaking skin, that paled, drawn-back expression, in any species the man should have been dead long ago.

And he kept finding some excuse to come by! If it wasn't this it was that or the other thing. The stubborn old bastard just wouldn't go away. There was always a new plan to show or a new request that could only be approved by the captain. How Gerra had managed to shift the codger's attention to him, Pooda didn't know, but she was going to pay somehow.

Leaving his feet up on his shiny, new hardwood desk and running a hand through his thick, black hair, the captain shouted for Xez to come in. It wasn't the old biologist thankfully, but the heavy captain's executive officer, a tall Mon Calamari named Wullo.

"Captain," the brown skinned fishman barked. "The emissary droid has returned with a representative of the alien government. They will be docking shortly."

"All right then," Pooda hefted his bulk into a standing position, "lets get down there. Inform Dr. Windfire and her people to meet us on the platform."

"Already done, Sir." Wullo sucked in a gargled breath and spun to follow his lumbering commander.

In the vast, cavernous expanse of the Republic Dawn's number four docking bay a seemingly insignificant delegation of officials waited patiently for the lambda-class shuttle to land and lower it's mouth-like ramp. All around them technicians and droids worked on everything from fighters to the smaller cruisers. High above, huge pieces of machinery and ferrying ships drifted by, uncaring of the events that were unfolding for two mated galaxies.

Captain Pooda and Wullo had arrived in the hanger to find Gerra and two other scientists waiting with the honorary detachment of stormtroopers who would serve as a welcome guard. The blue armored soldiers now stood in two rows of ten before the landing craft. At one point in history that armor plating had been strictly white. To draw attention and inspire fear, the captain supposed. Now, with the ways of the Empire long gone, the equipment was colored more toward function. Greens for vegetated areas, browns for deserts, greys for city combat, etc. Blue was chosen for all of these miscellaneous events where one wasn't actually trying to kill anyone but still could if the need arose. It was the color for those soldiers who's job it was to be seen.

"Oh, I wonder what they'll look like!" Dr. Croc wiggled his bony fingers in anticipation and tasted the cool, conditioned air with his tongue. Pooda and his scientific counterpart both rolled their eyes.

"Don't get too worked up, Doctor," the captain warned. "We are not going to greet our guests with an examination. You are here for observation only. Step out of line and I'll have you removed."

"Of course, Captain, of course. I am, if nothing, a professional." Pooda couldn't tell if the reptile was apologizing or being condescending.

Everyone's attention was then shifted as the shuttle finally finished it's landing cycle and began opening it's ramp amid jets of vapor. Twenty heels snapped to attention and Captain Pooda, Dr. Gerra and both of their people walked down the isle created by the guards to meet the new arrivals.

The first thing they saw coming from the darkness of the ship was a set of black clad legs and feet. It was bipedal. Next came the waist and hands followed by the chest. Not just bipedal, but humanoid! Finally the entire person was down, ducking his head under the last of the shuttle's snout. It was human!

The shock could be seen playing itself out on the bald man's face as well, though not quite so much as Pooda's. The word ‘fascinating' was echoed between Dr, Croc and the second alien to reach the end of the ramp. For a second it was the only thing that broke the silence between the two groups.

"Well," said T-2C5 in galactic standard, shuffling around to stand in the middle of everything. "I guess I'll make the introductions. Captain Pooda, this is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of Planets, Captain Picard," he switched to English, "let me introduce you to Captain Teeloo Pooda of the Galactic Republic." Again switching languages he finished by saying, "I see you have changed ships, Captain. Congratulations!"

Pooda gave as crisp a military salute as his jiggling frame could muster and turned to the droid. "Tell him that I apologies for the awkward greeting but we were not expecting such a... Familiar appearance."

"Neither were we, Captain." Picard first held his hand out to silence the interpretation and then habitually extended it in offered greeting.

The Republic captain's expression went from mild surprise to curiosity at the statement and gesture. "I see you've learned our language from the droid while it was with you. Very commendable."

"Nothing so amazing, I assure you," Picard said, taking a slight look at his unrequited hand and lowering it quickly. Of course he wouldn't know what a handshake was! "Your language was programmed into a device we call a Universal Translator. It is what is enabling us to communicate."

"Sounds like a useful piece of equipment, Captain Picard. Come, I'm no diplomat but I know we shouldn't be standing around out here. Wait, where are my manors. Let me introduce to you Dr. Gerra Windfire," The portly captain swept his hand to point at the middle-aged, dark skinned human woman standing beside two aliens, "she is heading up the scientific end of this little extravaganza, I'm just here for administration."
"
It is my extreme pleasure, Doctor," Picard charmed. "I look forward to hearing some of the findings your people have made concerning the wormhole. I'm sure Mr. Data here is as well."

"Yes," T-2C5 cut in. "Mr. Data is quite remarkable! A multipurpose droid made to resemble a humanoid life form and given a ranking position on their vessel!" The concept sounded laughable the way the droid said it.

"Well then," Pooda's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the alien droid. There was only one reason in his mind that people made a droid that human in appearance. Yet this one was so noticeable? "Come Captain, gather your droid and we'll move to a more comfortable environment." Pooda turned his considerable mass and led the way out of the bustling hanger.

"Actually, Captain," Picard said amicably. "Lt. Commander Data is a respected member of my crew and has always been treated as such."

Pooda stole a sidelong look at Data. "Fair enough. And what is your function, Mr. Data?"

"I am currently second officer aboard the Starship Enterprise..."

"Your ship?" Pooda asked Picard quietly while Data spoke.

"Yes"

"...and serve as operations bridge officer as well as preforming duties in engin..."

"That's enough, Commander. No offense, but he sounds like any other droid to me."

Reaching a comfortable transport lift, Captain Pooda ushered everyone in and continued. "So you're a military man, Captain Picard. Was your ship the first on the scene over on your side?"

"Actually, we're an exploration vessel primarily," Picard explained. "We only take on a combat role when necessary. And no, we weren't the first at the wormhole. That is something that we need to discuss though." Picard looked down a moment at the other captain, trying to read his fat face. "It would seem the events of the past few days have been grossly misunderstood on both of our sides."

Doubt played across the other man's face for a moment before he spoke. "Please Captain, I don't see how any of what has happened could have been misunderstood. You did erect a mine field around your side. I'm not judging. Your tactics are your own. But lets try not to call things what they aren't. In the long run though, at least no one got hurt."

"Actually Captain Pooda, that's another thing we need to talk about."


Deep within Borg cube 7823986, streaking through a transwarp conduit, a completely human girl not much older than twenty, a rare occurrence on a Borg vessel, sat cross-legged and completely entranced. Her clothing and equipment had been stripped away long before, at first assimilation, and she had been transferred to the cube in this rapt state when it had arrived to re-enforce the growing collective on the captured planet. Now, the cube traveled back into secure territory to give more attention to it's new and puzzling acquisition.

Acquisition 3251 of 3251 continues to resist assimilation. The words thundered in Mai-Men's head from uncounted voices.

Acquisition 3251 of 3251, resistence is futile. Your distinctiveness will be added to our own. Your knowledge will be our knowledge. You will be assimilated.

It was the same message that had been repeating over and over in her mind for what seemed now like an eternity. Ever since the nano-droids had built the transceiver into her brain, not to mention who knew what else, the emotionless statements had been non-stop. And it wasn't just the demands to relent. Mai could hear every thought of every drone around her in a whirlwind cacophony that threatened to pull her over the edge. Maybe it even was. Only the Force was protecting her now.

Mai-Men had woken from her first injection on the battlefield to feel the machines twisting and changing her insides as the voices in her mind assaulted her very being. Without giving a second thought the young knight-in-training had done the only thing she could. She had retreated her consciousness as far back into herself as possible, building walls of protection with the Force every step of the way.

Unfortunately, those walls did not last forever. One would fall and she would build it up again. The Borg would push through and she would fight them back. It was so very hard to keep calm and concentrate on her own individuality while being assaulted by so much conformity. The Borg were very good at what they did. They had been doing it for a long time. She may have had a powerful ally on her side but she was far from being a master and her enemy seemed to have all the time in the universe.

Acquisition 3251 of 3251 continues to resist assimilation.
Unassimilated species find structural replacement damaging to the psyche.
Begin replacement of inferior structural components.
Acquisition 3251 of 3251. Resistance is futile...

[Cpt_Frank]

Very good. We want more.

[Mr Bean]

We sure do

[Crown]

Now, I would love to say that I would like more, because that would be that truth, however there was a rumour, that Mark has like 76 pages of this stuff already written, and if this is true and he is just slowly posting it part by part then I refuse to play this game anymore....




...Who am I kidding! More Mark please!!!!

Please, Mark I have no life...

[Mark S]

Now, I would love to say that I would like more, because that would be that truth, however there was a rumour, that Mark has like 76 pages of this stuff already written, and if this is true and he is just slowly posting it part by part then I refuse to play this game anymore....




...Who am I kidding! More Mark please!!!!

Please, Mark I have no life...

It's true! It's true! Damn it, it's all true! AAAAAH
I wrote all this about a year and a half ago. I got blocked and haven't really got back to it until now. This is the first that anyone else has seen of it so I'm glad people are enjoying it. I dole it out in these segments partly because the post gets cut off if it's too big but mostly because I go through about ten pages reading it over again, making little changes here and there (because of new power findings or whatever) and puting spaces between the paragraphs. Once I hit the end of my backlog it's probably going to slow getting new segments out but since I know people want to see it, at least i have a reason to push myself.

[Eleas]

So we can expect your speed to slacken off then? *raises whip meneacingly*

[Mark S]

Alarms blared in Commander Bala's head even if they weren't going off in reality. Through the cabin windows the man watched three sleek, one-man craft flash past while a half dozen or so light freighters sidled blithely up to the Crown of the Republic's side. This was only what he could see through his window. There had to be more on the other side.

The Federation spy had been enjoying a leisurely evening of entertainment and gambling before he had lost all of his money to a small purple-grey frog that floated under two large, balloon-like appendages. It was then that he had made his way to the grand bay window to look out at the stars of the Patic Sanora system and saw the group of approaching ships. When he had later been confronted by a nervous looking porter in the hallway and told to return to his cabin, Bala was sure they were being boarded. These missions could never be easy, could they.

The train of thought was broken by the cabin's door sliding open and Pellax charging through. "Good, you're here, Commander," the Trill began breathlessly. He had obviously run here. "It's pirates. The whole ship is being locked down. There are androids everywhere setting up defenses."

"I don't think they're going to be too useful, Wel. It would be just as easy for them to destroy the ship from the outside and pick through the pieces if they're going to get trouble inside. I sure don't like the looks of those fighters circling around out there." The Commander looked to the window again. " Where's Jonesy?"

"I don't know. Haven't seen him since this afternoon. But like I said, I have seen a hell of a lot of defense activity now. That tells me the people in charge know they have a chance to fight. If you think about it, maybe there are celebrities on this boat that are worth more alive. Whatever the reason though, there's a fight brewin'."

"And if Jonesy doesn't get his butt back here he'll be stuck out in it." Bala shook his head. "Alright, where did you see him last."

The two men readied their mini-phasers and rushed back out into the hall. Not two seconds later they were greeted with a series of deep thuds heading steadily towards them. From down the hall, very solid looking blast doors were falling into place one by one over each cabin's entrance. They both stared at the grey metal that separated them from their lodgings.

"You have your tricorder, Lt.?" Bala's voice betrayed slight concern as he pulled his own out of his pocket with his free hand.

"Never let it out my sight." Pellax assured as he produced his own.

"Good, then we haven't lost much. Let's get going."


"By the way," Jonesy asked from his position behind an overturned buffet table, "does anyone here know what this is all about?"

The room had been all but evacuated for the most part originally, but after the blast doors had started closing off the cabins, those who had been trapped out of their quarters had congregated there, or to areas like it, for protection. The ships skeletal defense droids had done an excellent job of building barricades and distributing weapons to anyone who was willing to fight. At the moment though, all anyone could do was wait and watch and listen.

"Who knows?" the answer came rumbling from the gapping maw of a greenish brown blob of a creature, immense in proportion. "With my luck they're coming after me!" The last statement brought rolls of deep laughter issuing from the blubbery mass. As if on cue, the two beings at its side began to laugh as well. It was a forced mirth but if the pair's monstrous master noticed, it didn't mind.

Lieutenant Jones gave a false smile and a slight nod in approval of the jest. The ominous bass laughter did nothing to lighten the mood in the room and his hand subconsciously tightened it's grip on his gun as his eyes shifted from one scared face to the next. There wasn't much in the way of fight in these people. They were mostly just frightened upperclass vacationers. Of the twenty passengers in the dinning hall it looked like there would be only himself and the three stooges there to help the ten robots that now stood a silent vigil at the exits.

Of the three, they all looked as though they could handle a weapon, that was certain, though the large leader obviously hadn't had one in his stubby arms for years. His men, if they were male, both stood with the casual watchfulness of professional bodyguards. One was tall and slender with four long, thin arms and a small bulb of a head on a long, spindly neck. The only thing that Jonesy could equate him to was a giant walkingstick insect, only the creature wasn't insectoid. It wore tight clothes designed not to get in the way of movement or catch unwantedly on stray objects. It's two eyes were obviously cybernetically enhanced and could undoubtedly track and aim with ease each of the four guns the creature held. This must be the bloated, mobile stomach's long range defense.

The other guard looked to be more suited for close combat. Small in stature, perhaps a meter and a half tall, the grey skinned being had a cat like appearance and moved with all the grace of that animal as well. True, it held a gun at the moment but Jonesy could tell that it was far more comfortable fighting hand to hand. The creatures large yellow eyes squinted as it took another deep whiff of the air around the closest doorway.

"What's the deal?" Jonesy went on casually. "You some kind of a bigshot or something?"

This brought more booming laughter from the creature as it turned it's huge brown eyes to the puny human addressing it and began to slither over on it's thick yet obviously very muscular tail. "Bigshot!" The rest of the cowering passengers tried to make themselves even more invisible as the word echoed around the expanse of the dinning hall. "No, that's his job." The monster pointed a fat finger to the henchman with the four arms. "Don't you follow politics boy? I'm Satoolla. Senator Satoolla? I represent Hutt space! Somebody get this kid a news holo!" The Hutt and his two men were the only ones to find this funny.

"So you've made a couple decisions that weren't well received I take it?" This might be an explanation but who would hijack a whole ship just to assassinate one person?

"No, but there's always someone out there who thinks they can do a better job. Or thinks they deserve it at least. It's times like this that I think about giving the position up and just concentrating on my personal businesses."

"You don't really think that anyone would go to all of this trouble just for an assassination, do you?" Jones could hear energy fire coming from down the hall as he asked the question. The defense droids and the Hutt's henchmen readied themselves.

"That depends on who it is," Satoolla shrugged. "There are some that would just have the ship torpedoed to slag. This lot of Poodoo has to be pirates. They're looting."

"Or there's someone on the ship worth more alive then dead."

"Well if that's the case then they aren't after me. My family ‘d never give a cent to get me back!" The massive Hutt gave another bass laugh as he slapped the human on the shoulder and slithered over to the barricade.


"No you idiots! We're on your side!"

The screaming didn't work. The cruise ships emergency defense droids continued to advance, firing their precision bolts of plasma. Pellax risked a quick look back around the corner and let off a wild arc from his phasor before pulling back and darting down the corridor after his commander.

"Come on, come on!" Bala shouted from the next junction, aiming past his comrade with one hand and waving him on with the other. A long beam of energy suddenly appeared beside the dashing Trill, hopefully connecting the Commander's weapon to an emerging foe behind.

"Between the invaders," Pellax said as he recovered from a dive around the corner, "and the freaking robots, I don't know how long the charge is going to last on these little things."

"We've almost finished this bunch off," Bala replied as a hail of blaster bolts sped past his ducking head. "We'll see if we can't use their weapons then."

Another blast was heard hitting home around the corner but this time it was followed by the cheer of pirates. "Ok, maybe we won't be taking those weapons." The Commander sighed and they both charged down the hallway and around the next corner as fast as they could.


Two droids exploded back in a shower of sparks and a cloud of smoke. That made six, with only four more to go. The attackers had taken their fair share as well but they showed no sign of stopping. Jonesy brought his gun back up to bare over the barricade, aimed and squeezed off a shot. Beside him the gangly Walkingstick exhaled in exasperation and spun from cover, spraying four different areas with streams of plasma.

"<Haven't you ever heard of suppression fire?!>" The alien's high pitched voice chided in Huttese. Jonesy only caught about half of the translation.

From another opening into the room a rumble of pain irrupted from Satoolla and the Hutt pulled back behind cover clutching it's left arm at the shoulder. A quick glance was all that either of the bodyguards gave to their master.

"Is he alright?" Jonesy looked from the Walkingstick to the Bald Cat for the answer.

"<She's fine,>" The Bald Cat replied distractedly between firing. "<That shot probably didn't get through the fat.>"

"She? That's a she?" Jonesy ducked another incoming attack and returned fire. When he looked back the two body guards were gone. Looking around he spotted them again, the Bald Cat was scaling the sheer side of the wall to an air vent, the Walkingstick was looking up after. In another second the vent was open and the Cat was gone. Jonesy had to pause in his observation of the spectacle to return fire but when he looked back the ‘Stick was most of the way up a rope and the Cat was hauling on the other end. Then they were both gone. To the side another droid went down smoking.

Satoolla moved across the room to the Federation officer with the speed of a killer whale in the ocean. "Come on kid, to hell with these toads. We're getting out of here!"

"And where exactly do you think we're going to go?"

From the main entrance the remaining attackers could be heard falling into complete disarray amid a rain of blaster fire. In another moment the small form of the Cat appeared, waving them forward.

"That way," was all the Hutt said before it took off at a slither that Jonesy had to run to keep up with.

The two entered a hallway filled with bodies splayed in all directions. The bodyguards were too busy searching for unspent energy clips to give them much notice. When the search was over the clips were distributed evenly and the four were on the move again.

"<They look like anyone we know?>" Satoolla rumbled to her men in Huttese.

They both shook their heads and moved forward at a careful jog.


Bala and Pellax arrived in front of the dinning room to a scene of massacre. The bodies of the raiders, creatures of all descriptions, littered the floor like the discarded clothes of a child. Looking through the remains, the two found that all of the extra rifle ammunition had been taken.

"At least we know we're not alone." The Trill offered, taking the sidearm and accompanying clips from a fallen brigand.

"Yes," the Commander responded from his own search. "And it would probably be in our best interests to catch up with them if we can. They seem to know what they're doing."

"And we wouldn't want to end up shooting at each other or anything." As if in response to the Trill's statement the remaining droids in the dinning hall took notice of the two armed men near their position and started firing.

"No rest for the weary." Bala said and the two men were off again. This time in pursuit of what they hoped would be help.

It didn't take long for them to reach there prey. The four beings were pinned down in a small sitting area making what looked like a last stand against a group of attackers at the end of the hall.

"There's Jonesy," Bala said as the two pulled back around the corner before they were spotted. "I think he's been hit. It looks like he's trying to dress a thigh wound."

He was. The quartet had turned the very same corner that Lt. Jones' friends were now at to find this group bunched around one of the blast doors, trying to hack into it's mechanisms and get it open. The fire fight had been pretty steady and he had got himself clipped by a stray bolt. He didn't think it was too bad though. The real problem was the fact that they were all running out of ammunition.

Then the shots started coming from a new direction. None of the four really noticed until Jonesy had finished tying off his leg. He grabbed his gun and looked back up to the battle to see blaster bolts streaking past from down the hall. Immediately bringing his weapon to bare he almost took a shot until he, first realized that the two men were shooting past him to the pirates beyond and secondly, that they were none other than his two fellow galactic interlopers.

"Hay!" Jonesy shouted. "The cavalry has arrived."

It was the Walkingstick who spared a quick look back and muttered, "<Not much of a cavalry.>"

With the renewed force, the attackers was driven back down the passageway giving the Federation spies time for a short reunion.

"We've been looking all over for you Mr. Jones. Now we find you off playing with your friends?" Bala helped his companion up with mock formality while Pellax ran a tricorder scan over the leg wound.

"What's that there?" Satoolla asked shifting up to the trio. Her men jogged down to the end of the hall where their enemy had been for a hasty reconnaissance.

"This? Just a medical scanner," Pellax lied.

"Good!" The Hutt's cat-like eyes widened as it's voice thundered. "I took a hit on the shoulder. Give this a look will yo..."

The request was cut off by an eloquent voice speaking Galactic Standard over the intercom. "Attention passengers. We now have control of the ship. You will soon notice a series of low frequency sound pulses being issued. Do not be alarmed. These are merely designed to render you unconscious for your own protection as well as ours. Thank you for your cooperation."

The Cat was the first to drop, then the world of the Federation spies went black.


Black. Everything was still black. Bala began to wonder if he had really managed to open his eyes. Of course he had! If he was unconscious his head probably wouldn't be pounding so much. And that humming; constant and low. Was that the hum of an engine or were his ears ringing from that damn sonic blast? The Federation Commander tried to raise in his dark confines and quickly found himself rushing to meet the cold, hard floor. Whether it was his head spinning faster or the contents of his stomach, he couldn't tell.

Off in the impenetrable shadow, the unmistakable sound of retching rolled over the background hum. That was Pellax if it was anyone. It had to be.

"Don't hack the slug out, Lieutenant." Bala's voice sounded weak. He wanted to try to make it over to where ever his friend was but knew he would only be adding to the vomit smell now making it's way around the room. He was answered only by a weak groan and the sound of someone slumping over.

"Pellax, Commander, are you alright ? I can't see a thing!" It was Jonesy, they had all been put in the same holding cell. What else could be lurking out there in the dark?

There was a sound of shifting, of movement to Bala's right and out of the blackness came the reverberating pang of something hitting metal bars. Jonesy's disembodied voice grunted in pain. They may have all been in the same room but they weren't in the same cell.

"So," Jonesy asked, rubbing his head in the darkness. "Am I blind here or are we in the dark?"

"I can't see either, Lieutenant, so either there's no light or we're both blind." Bala eased himself into a sitting position against the wall. "Any ideas about what's going on and why anyone would what to take us, of all people on that ship, alive?"

"Well," Jonesy began. It sounded like it was painful for him to even think. "It could be that we weren't the only ones taken. This could all be a slave trade thing. Or it could be that my fat, slithering friend was right and they were after her. She said she was a senator. Maybe whoever our captors are think we're with her."

"Maybe. But I don't hear anyone else breathing in this room, do you? Why would they put us together and separate the other three?"

"Beecha no ley...Bhaa!" Pellax's weak voice swore in his native tongue before he switched to English. "They even took the phasor I had stashed down my pants! It actually makes me glad the translators are implants. Anyway, maybe the room is only big enough for these three cages?"

"If it was slaves they were after wouldn't they jam as many as they could into each cell? Or put everyone in a cargo hold?" They could hear Lt. Jones slowly testing his cage as he spoke.

"It could be they have a special order for three humanoids." Bala offered. "We've been causing trouble and we fit the bill so they took us. It could also be that they're throwing off the authorities by taking small groups in different ships to different locations. Whatever the answer is, all this thinking is making me queasy. I'm going to try to get some rest while there isn't anything I can do. I suggest everyone else does the same."

"That's easy for you to say," came the Trill's reply. "Your cage is still clean." After that the darkness became silent once again. All except for the soft humming of what they assumed was a slave ship passing through hyperspace.


A monster grey wedge filled space before Commander Bala's eyes. Only part of it was illuminated by the far off reflected light behind him but he could see running lights and windows trailing off until they seemed to mingle with the stars in the background. What was he thinking? This ship was the background. The starscape behind was just some after thought. Like a tiny patch of sky in a picture of a cloudy day.

Then the dark was made light. An iridescent green light that could burn anything in it's path. Hundreds of green streaks rained down on him out of the massive ship bringing pain and misery. Only not the pain that he was expecting. He was sure he was going to be vaporized instantly, this felt like a boot to the side.

Then came the sound. It was like someone shouting gibberish at him. You weren't supposed to be able to hear anything in space, much less voices? It took one more kick to the side before Bala realized he had been dreaming and now someone or something was trying to wake him up. Aggressively.

"Alright," the beleaguered man sighed as he tried to guard against any further assaults. "I'm up, I'm up."

Waking greeted the Commander with both good news and bad. The room was now dimly lit and he could see, so they weren't blind. The only thing in his field of vision at the moment, however, was the blade of a strange alien staff weapon.

"Morning, Commander." Jonesy said while his wrists were being locked behind his back. "I guess we're home." This gained him a bark and a smack from his captor.

Describing the four creatures that were now rousing and binding the prisoners as humanoid would have been using the most liberal sense of the word. True, they had two arms, two legs, a body and a head, but that was where any resemblance came to a screeching halt. The creatures were large, the smallest being about seven feet, with the long, thick arms and the shorter legs of an ape. Their skin had the color and consistency of granite and their four beady eyes shone blackly from deep, thick browed sockets. Beaked mouths seemed to take up the rest of the face, even to the preclusion of a nose. Neither of the three Starfleet officers could read any emotions on the grey, craggily faces but it was obvious that they weren't in a pleasant mood.

Once taken from their holding room, which turned out to actually only hold the three cells, the prisoners were led down a series of steel corridors, pressure hatches and stony passages to a large set of double doors guarded by two more of the rock-skinned behemoths. As those meter thick doors were swung open the three prisoners and their guards were greeted by the sight of a ragged, milling throng. A cross section of almost all of the species in the galaxy, all looking weak, strung out and scared. Fear was something you could read on even the most alien of faces.

The guards gave them all one last push and the double doors slammed shut with a crash that echoed around the cavernous, rough-hewn chamber. When the reverberation died it left the three with only the constant sobbing of the masses to comfort them.

"Alright," Pellax said, sizing up the crowd and counting the number of faces he thought were children. "They took us from caged isolation where we couldn't do anything, to a room full of people that's guarded by two or three thugs. Does anyone else not see the logic?"

"I think Bala was right before," Jonesy answered. "I think those cages were on a transport. Now we've been moved to a depot of some sort. The Nausicans use something like this for their slave trade. Everyone gets brought here and they take who they want when they want them."

"I'm starting to hate always being right." Bala slowly walked further into the room and signaled for his men to follow.

"Now lets see..." he continued. "Doors are about a meter or so thick, at least two guards on the other side with pikes," his eyes moved about the room, " and five, maybe six robot drones flying around spying on everybody." On cue one of the small, hovering, mechanical eyeballs buzzed over and stopped for a second to take them in. When it finally left, they continued.

"We, on the other hand," Pellax countered, "have the clothes on our backs and about two hundred fellow prisoners who don't particularly look up to trying a breakout. Depending on what they give us to eat, if anything, we may also have a knife or fork or something. I doubt that'll do much to the muscle at the door though."

"Breakout you say?" The question caught the three off guard. They had been using voices that only the highly trained or highly acute of hearing could hope to understand and had not been moving their lips as they spoke. "No one will help you."

The trio looked down to see a small figure swathed in a hooded black cloak sitting against the wall to their right. He was a good six paces away and should never have heard their conversation. Everyone in the area, on the other hand, could hear exactly what he was shouting. Looks were passed back and forth around the crowd like a virus.

"Is it so strange for us to talk about escaping a slave prison?" Bala muttered quietly to the odd little fellow when the three had reached him. The creatures thick, grey snout was all that could be seen of him, even when that close. "Don't you want to leave?"

"Of course! But I'm just a small, little thing." The creatures tone was now dropped to a more appropriate, conspiratorial level. "It's not everyday that three beings such as yourselves are brought here. Most who reach this place come in on the edge of sanity. They're in shock and filled with fear. Fear of the guards, fear of the droids, fear of the people around them. It makes them useless and before they have time to adjust they are taken away again. No one stays here for very long. Not even long enough to eat." His hooded eyes turned to meet the Trill's and a sly smile played over this snout. "No one will help you."

"And why are you so special? Why are you still here?" Jonesy wondered suspiciously. When turning to his Commander he said. "I don't trust this. Let's leave him."

"Yes!" The little grey snout whispered at it's accuser. "You are right, Sir! Don't trust. Don't trust anyone. Not here, not anywhere. You will live a very long time."

"Why are you still here then?" Pellax asked after taking another look around for spy drones. In the distance two were shocking someone into unconsciousness.

"Maybe I don't trust you." Little grey nostrils sniffed and the hooded face looked down as if it were drifting off to sleep. "You aren't like the rest who come here. So bold. Maybe they sent you? Maybe they sent you to spy on everyone. Learn the things that people say when the droids aren't around." The creature raised his voice again. "Well I don't know anything! Go away and let me wait for my turn in peace!"

"Fine. Come on, lets go." Jonesy stood up and looked around for another quiet spot.

Bala and Pellax rose and began to follow, the Commander giving a quick look back at the strange being sitting on the floor behind them. "I think he knows a way out of here," he said to his Lieutenant. "Keep an eye on him. Especially if anyone comes around carting people off."

"Aye, Sir." The Trill replied. "But something's got Jonesy's hair up. He's always been the best judge of character I've worked with. He was even able to spot a changeling once."

"Are you saying we should eliminate the little guy once he's shown us his rabbit hole?"

"I'm saying that if Jonesy doesn't trust him we should be ready to, Sir."

[Mr Bean]

Hey stop sneaking those updates in on us!
But don't stop em
Or else.....

[Mr Bean]

Question, Do you even have a title for this?

[Mark S]

The title's on the first post:

Star Wars: The Republic's Crusade

or

Star Trek: Invasion

those sound like names each of the franchises would use. Unfortunately, the Invasion one was taken by someone else on the board before me. I didn't want to call it one or the other because the story is about both.

Like I told someone else, we can always call it a Turkey Sandwich? MMMM, turkey...

[Eleas]

Even nicer. Yum.

[Mark S]

Time had no meaning in the confines of the slave hold. The lights never got brighter or dimmer, the sound of crying in the background never seemed to stop.

"So were you able to follow him?" Jonesy asked as his two companions came back to the spot on the wall where they had left him. "He didn't come around here. But who knows? I've seen five people like him in here so far."

"I didn't see anything either," Bala replied.

"I had him," Pellax said, "but I lost the little bastard in the crowd. You'd think it'd be easy to follow him since he was the only other person moving around but he gave me the slip."

"We're going to have to be sharper next time. We may not get many more chances at this." Bala was starting to think that they would have to consider other options for escape.

"That is if we can even follow him into where ever he goes." Jonesy pointed out in annoyance. "He could be going into an air vent or something we can't fit into. If he was even telling the truth."

"How many air ducts have you noticed?" Bala asked his men.

"I can see them spaced every ten meters on the ceiling," Pellax offered. "I think it's the same around the base of the walls but those are only about thirty by ten centimeters."

"What about the small rock pile in the corner over there." Jonesy pointed off to their left. An old cave-in had left a pile of rubble slanting sharply up to the wall. "I didn't really think anything of it but look at the spacing of the floor vents."

"My God," Bala shook his head as he looked at what now seemed so obvious. "How did we ever get this far missing things like that?!"

"I wouldn't take it too hard, Commander," Jones replied, beaming at his observation. "We all still look like crap and I know I still feel like it. A doc would probably have us in bed for a week after a concussion like the one we had."

"I wish I had a week, Lieutenant," the Commander sighed. "And when I'm home I'll probably take one. That is, after all the paper work and debriefings. Now though, fried brain or not, lets concentrate on that rock slide."

After a cursory examination of the debris pile, the three agents sat down to start a more thorough look. They tried to be as nonchalant as they could in their search but still they had to stop many times to wait for the roving flyers to pass them by. It was a painfully slow and meticulous process and it seemed like hours before they finally made any headway.

It was the Trill that found the opening in the end. Near the base of the pile, against the wall, two stones could be easily moved without much notice from anyone surrounding. They opened to reveal a cramped tunnel that looked like it expand a little way in.

"Well," Pellax crowed, "My third host was a geologist so I kind of have a knack for this type of thing."

Soon all three of the men had squeezed through the tiny opening and out into the dusty shadows of the passage beyond. For the moment they were free.

The corridor before them stretched into the gloom until it was lost around a corner in the distance. Nothing of interest was uncovered by the dull blue-white light of the emergency panels running the length of the walls except a trail of foot prints in the thick dust covering the floor.

"Looks like we were right about our little friend after all." Bala stooped down to get a better look at the prints.

"I wonder why whoever runs this place never thought to look back here? They could be missing out on half of the building." Jonesy swept the layers of dust off a section of wall as he spoke. There was writing underneath and a symbol.

"Hay, look," he called softly, pointing to the faded red, bird-like insignia. "Wasn't this the symbol of those guerillas that couped the government we were reading about?"

"This must be one of their old bases," Bala theorized. "Probably in an asteroid. The slavers probably stumbled on it and don't even know that this part of the structure exists."

"Bad for them, good for us." It was the harsh whisper of the hooded alien.

The three companions spun around with lightening speed, all reaching for phasors that weren't there. The little creature was right behind them, as if he had stepped out of the shadows themselves. The blue light of the wall panels seemed to catch something in his eyes and they shone pale grey from the depths of the hood.

"I take it you don't think we're spies anymore?" Bala asked with a quick glance down the hall. The way they were going a battalion wouldn't have trouble sneaking up on them.

"I've been watching you," the creature replied. "Watching and listening, even as you were. You're not spies. Not for the slavers anyway. Though they probably know about this passage now I'd wager."

"Right," Jonesy cut in. "And so do we, so we don't need you. Go back to whatever hole you were in and we'll go our way."

"But I want to come with you!" The small grey man was indignant. "I've been waiting so long for someone like you to come along. So very long." The Starfleet officers exchanged looks.

"You have to take me!" The cloaked figure seemed to be melting into the rock floor. Two tiny, black gloved hands came together in a gesture of prayer. "I can help you! I know the tunnels! I know where the ships are! You can't leave without someone to pilot for you! You can't leave me here!"

The weights in Bala's aching mind turned for a second. "Alright. You're a pilot? You can come with us, but we're going to need to find more then just a ship."

"Your equipment?" Hope crept into the aliens voice. "Yes, yes! I've seen it. Very odd, just like you. The slavers care little for scanning equipment, though your strange weapons may be harder to get back. I'll see what I can do! You wait here."

"But..." Bala couldn't get a word in before the black figure had shifted back into shadow again.

"Just wait. I'll be back!" The disembodied voice was coming from everywhere.

"This mission just keeps getting better and better." Jonesy shook his head. "Let's get going. It can't be too hard to find the docking area in this place and I don't know about you but I'd like to be gone before that little guy gets back."

"He seems to be willing to please." Bala had never known Jones to act this way about a person. "I'd like to see what he manages to come back with."

The three looked at each other and then furtively down the passage. As one, each man reached into his mouth and flipped a micro trigger on the back of his moral, turning off his implanted Universal Translator. Now they could talk freely without worry of their odd friend taking them off guard again.

"It could be he comes back with a bunch of unfriendlys and turns this into a party." Pellax hadn't had to use English for quite a while and his accent showed it.

"We're going to have to risk it," Bala argued. "We need the data on those tricorders or the mission is going to be a total wash. Do either of you feel like going back to Section 31 with a report that says ‘I think they use this for a weapon' or ‘I think I remember their engines working like this but I know they sure looked pretty.' And if we get the phasors back too, all the better. I don't want to compromise the mission by allowing Federation technology to float around this galaxy even if it doesn't have a Federation logo on it."

"Commander," Jonesy replied. "The mission has already been completely compromised by the gear we left on the cruise ship. With any luck these pirates took the whole boat and will throw our stuff in the scrap pile, but we don't know that. As for losing the information, no problem. I took the memory crystal out of my tricorder and swallowed it before the fighting started." The lieutenant slapped his belly. "We'll at least have that."

"Jonesy! Your not as stupid as you look!" Pellax's raised spirit was quickly pulled back down by his commander.

"That's better then nothing but it's not good either. Especially if we can get it all back. And the fact of the matter is, Lieutenant, that we will most likely need a pilot and now we have one. Besides, I get the feeling this guy knows too much about us. If he stays where we can see him it'll make it all the easier to eliminate him when we're back in Federation space. Does that make you feel better?"

"We're not going to rendevous with the Shinobi?" Jones looked confusedly from one face to the other. "If it's about the subspace transmitter we lost, we can use the comlink on the ship we get. I'm pretty sure the technology is compatible."

"Son," the Trill explained. "There's no way we're going to find the Shinobi. The Republic probably has ships all over the area around the wormhole by now, just like we will. If Shinobi, or any other ship, is still in the area it'll be in cloak and won't be coming out for us. They probably went back through when Republic ships first started to arrive."

"Yeah," Bala agreed. "And now that our little holiday has gone to the dogs we have to find our own way back."

"Well that's just great!" Jones threw his hands in the air. "How are we going to get through then? They'll never allow a civilian ship near this end and Starfleet sure as hell won't let anything out the other!"

"I'll think of that when I'm starring at the wormhole."


The trio sat in silence for an eternity, each trying to plan the next best course of action, before the shuffling black robes of their new benefactor came back down the hall. His little arms were now piled full of gear.

"This should be everything that you need," the grey skinned creature began hopefully. "Everything except a ship that is."

He was right. Everything they needed was there, just not everything that they were hoping for. However he did it, the little fellow had managed to get back the two absentee tricorders but in place of their phasors he had brought three hand blasters more common to this galaxy. The phasors would have to be a right-off.

"As I told you," the creature seemed to answer their thoughts. "The scanners were not of interest to these beings but your weapons I found quite impossible to return. They were in pieces on a work bench."

"That's fine," Bala said while checking to make sure the data stored in his tricorder was still intact. "You've done alright so far. We'll take you with us. I'm Bala, this is Pellax and that's Jones. What's your name little man?"

The hooded grey snout regarded the trio for a second before answering. "I am called Gallus," he replied. His words seemed to hang in the air for a moment with the whirling dust and the pale light. "Darth Gallus" Again the veiled eyes shone eerily, catching each men in their light one at a time.

A chill ran down Bala's spin and he visibly shook before he could master himself. "Well Mr. Gallus, this is the deal I'm offering. You find us a ship in this place and fly it and we'll do the rest. Once we're free and clear you can drop us off on the nearest civilized planet and be on your way. You keep the ship. Agreed?" The last was rhetorical, nothing in the Commanders voice hinted at any negotiation.

"It would seem I have little choice in the matter." Gallus smiled and raised his hands in a mime of being bound.

"Good. Now lets get the hell out of here. Lead the way."

Gallus led them through one dead corridor after another. Twisting and turning amid massive cave-ins and magnetically sealed hatches. At odd times he would stop them and go silently ahead by himself only to come back and lead them away down another tunnel, other times he would close his eyes (they assumed) and seem to just listen, as if the walls were telling him which way was best. Eventually the four fugitives found themselves lying behind a wide vent screen overlooking a row of six beat-up freighters in a monstrous cavern.

"This is the repair bay," the black robed alien whispered. As if anyone could have heard them over the cacophony of noise and activity going on below. "This will be our best chance for getting a ship. No guards around here."

"How can you say that?" Jonesy challenged. "There has to be twenty people down there, plus androids! And each one of them has a weapon! We don't even know if any of these pieces of crap are spaceworthy."

"Not to worry Lieutenant Jones," Gallus answered calmly. "I've been watching this area. The second ship from the left has undergone only minor repairs and is in perfectly suitable condition by now. As for the people, that problem will be solved soon enough."

"Of course," Bala commented. "They're pirates. They're not going to have the most disciplined work ethic. All we need to do is wait of the supper bell to ring an this place'll clear out."

"Yeah, then all we have to worry about are robots setting off alarms and pesky ship security systems." Pellax seemed about as happy as Jonesy. "Have you ever heard of a light freighter captain who didn't booby-trap his ship?"

"Again, not to worry." Gallus seemed almost amused at their concern. "You forget how small a being I am. I'm easily missed, even to ‘pesky security systems'. When the time comes, I'll get in the ship and make it ready."

With that the four slipped back down the ventilation shaft to find the quickest, quietest way into the hanger.


The four escapees came out into the populated areas of the complex in a silent, dirty hallway. The only thing distinguishing it from the forgotten areas they had just been in was the brighter lighting. Even that was faltering in places. According to Gallus, they should have been two or three corridors away from the hanger. All they had to do now was wait for the dinner - or was it lunch - bell to ring and make their move.

It was the waiting that was going to be the hard part. The passage stretched twenty meters in either direction with no amount of cover what so ever. The group couldn't get more exposed but they had no choice. They had to wait.

It was Bala who heard it first; the steady crunching of heavy feet against loose pebbles. Someone was coming towards them. Someone was going to round the corner at any moment. The team bolted. Luckily they were running in the right direction. Not so luckily, their pursuers turned the far corner before they could turn theirs.

"Rock Apes!" Jonesy cried as he came last around the bend. A grating roar sounded behind them followed by heavily running feet. "I thought you said the guards never came this way!"

"They usually don't!" Gallus panted back, out of breath from the flight. "I don't know everything that goes on around here! That's why I brought you the guns!"

Pellax was two steps ahead of their little guide. With a quick check of his weapon's settings, the Trill wheeled his arm and head back around the corner and flooded the area with super-heated death.

"Looks like three of them," he said, pulling himself back into cover. "They're only carrying those pike weapons but our plasma blasts have to get through that chitinous outer layer before they do any real damage. I don't think I stopped any of them."

"Then what the hell are we standing here for?" Jonesy answered as he started off down the tunnel pulling his friends along with him.

By the time the guards had rounded the corner the three men were ready at the other end and let loose a volley of blaster fire that depleted each of their clips. The rock-like pursuers couldn't help but be swept off their feet by the onslaught, giving their prey enough time to reload and rush in for an efficient, close-range execution. Gallus stood behind and watched with amusement.

When all was calm again the group continued on it's way to the repair hanger in cautious single file. With all of the activity of the fire fight they had to make their move now and hope that the hanger had cleared out by the time they got there.

No such luck. Coming around the last corner the four were greeted by a little used access way that opened into the repair dock. Through this door they could all clearly see a diligent crew working late to finish their task.

"So how long do we plan on waiting for these..." Jonesy's question was cut off by the wail and flashing red lights of the stations alarm system. The pirate crew immediately stopped their repairs and drew their guns. If any of the slaves was trying to escape this would be one of the places they'd be looking for. It wouldn't be hard to pick the grubby bastards off from the ships high vantage. Especially considering the escaped slave wouldn't have a weapon.

"Looks like we don't wait at all." Bala aimed his blaster, initiating his fellows to do the same, and fired two rapid shots into his target. The Lieutenants faired no worse. For the pirates, standing on the top of their ship in the middle of the huge hanger suddenly became not so comfortable a place to be.

Chaos erupted as both sides filled the air with energy while diving for cover. Even after the initial attack, the fugitives were still outnumbered but they managed to find a way to get out of the line of fire while their enemies were still relatively in the open.

The three agents of Section 31 worked in perfect harmony. They were trained and hardened soldiers and had little worry about a group of two-bit thugs. Without a word of planning, Bala moved to the right while Jonesy went left. Each of their shots was carefully targeted to not only kill the enemy but to keep them from entering their ship as well as providing cover for the others movement. In the mean time, Pellax was ignoring the pirates all together. Instead, he attacked the droids and any security systems while trying to make his way safely to the ship they had agreed to steal.

The pirates were kept pinned down, ironically, behind the rotating cannon on their ships hull, the one thing that could be of most use to them at the moment. They were far from beat however. These men of varied species had survived countless battles and run-ins with forces of all kinds. They were ruthless and cunning killers. They waited until they had been completely flanked and, with their enemy split to both sides of them, they came up with guns blazing, charging from their ship in all directions. Two were taken down in the maneuver but their enemy found that they no longer had as much cover as they had thought.

Now Jones and Bala had their own battles to fight and Pellax didn't have the luxury of a distracted foe. Rolling behind the landing strut of a near by craft, the Trill fired wildly into a pair that was baring down on his Commander. This action was stopped by three shots that slammed home above his head sending him diving away in a frantic bid for new sanctuary.

Jonesy now found himself pinned down behind a wedge of crates with enemy volleys coming from both sides. With no hope of taking an aimed shot at one side without the other getting him in the back of the head, the Lieutenant could do nothing but stick his gun up and fire blindly. It was useless but he had no choice. The only good his position was to him now was the fact that it gave him a view of the pirate freighters main entrance. If anyone tried to get in he might have a chance at stopping them.

Bala was fairing only somewhat better. He had managed to kill one of the men that had jumped from the ship in his direction in mid air and another while the alien had been distracted by Jonesy's useless suppression fire. Then, after Pellax had helped him with another pair he hadn't seen, the Commander was left with only two, dug in between their ship and a corridor leading out of the hanger. When both of them bolted in different directions, Bala's instincts turned him to the one running for the exit. The man was dead before he took five steps.

Unfortunately this meant that the other had a clear charge for the open ramp of his vessel. Jonesy took a careful bead through the space between his crates and was about to squeeze the trigger when waves of pain pealed through his injured leg. Turning, he was greeted by the fist of a pirate who had come up behind him in the confusion.

With a man on board, the pirate crew gave a cheer and moved in for the kill. In moments their ship would be powered up and the weapons systems would take care of everything. It wasn't their ships turret that came to life to finish the battle, however, it was the cannon of the vessel to its right. Out of nowhere the unassuming ships weapons powered up with a vengeance, converting the turret of it's enemy, and the hapless man inside it, into a shower of dust and shrapnel.

The man towering over Jonesy was instantly killed by the flying metal fragments, as well as two others who had been moving to capture the Trill. The remaining pirates, there were now only two left, were vaporized where they stood a second later.

All was silent in the hanger as Bala and Pellax rushed to their friend to find him pulling himself up painfully. Seconds later they were hurrying toward an open ramp and the beckoning waves of their guide and savior.

"Quickly, quickly! We won't have much time! I told you they wouldn't notice me." Gallus was already closing the ramp before the men were aboard the flat, wing-shaped freighter.

"Just get us the hell out of here!" Bala barked as he all but collapsed to the floor. A flash of pain ignited across his face as a metal shard sticking out of his side caught on the wall and was torn free. A crimson lake was rapidly spreading around all three of the escapees.

Seconds after their savior had disappeared around a corner, the whine of the engines increased in pitch until it was accompanied by a bass rumble. Soon the sound of the ships cannons blazed to life again amid thunderous explosions. The curiosity of it forcing the men to their feet and onward to the cockpit.

"Injuries not quite so grievous I see," Gallus commented without turning his attention from the calmly orbiting asteroids ahead. He was looking for something among them. "It's your aggression that makes you strong."

"We'll manage." Pellax quipped. Jonesy merely grunted as he slumped into a seat at the cabins rear.

"Good. Good." the little pilot chuckled.

"Enough with the giggles, old man! Just keep your eyes on your course and get us out of here." Bala hovered behind the small alien's chair as Pellax took the one beside Jones. In another moment he was pointing frantically to one side. "Look! To port! To port! They're coming after us!"

"I saw them, Commander," the shrouded, grey being's voice was calm, with only a hint of anger. He never took his eyes from the starscape. "Now sit down , be quiet and let me deal with this."

Bala found himself strangely compelled to back away but his need to be in control left him firmly rooted in place. Soon he was in an excellent position to see flying like he had never imagined possible.

Four small, one man craft had risen up from behind the drifting rocks in front of them to block their path. One was a pod- almost A-like -shape, one was of a boxy design, and the remaining two consisted of a sphere held between two large, octagonal heat-sinks. All the ships looked like they had seen better days but were still as deadly as ever.

In the blink of an eye the quartet broke position and began their attack. A myriad of roars, hums, whines, and crackles filled the cockpit of the stolen freighter as they made their first pass and came around to pursue.

"What the hell...?" Jonesy's head instinctively ducked and followed the sound as the A-wing buzzed across the ships plasteel windscreen.

"Incredible," Pellax marveled at his side, eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next. "The computer must track each target and assign it a sound based on size or engine type or something. Then it uses that to give the pilot an idea of the relative position and velocity of each target around the ship. Very handy for this type of close-in dog fighting."

"It's relaying the plasma blasts as well," Jonesy returned, his analytical mind falling back to an investigation of the technology. "They must be measuring particle displacement, I think."

Another ‘particle displacement' due to high intensity plasma flashed passed then. Across their rear if their ears were to be trusted. Gallus put the freighter into an impossible twist and dive maneuver that careened by an asteroid, coming meters away from a crash.

In the blink of an eye the clumsy, wing-shaped, freighter was spinning like a gyroscope, coming to a stop with its guns leveled at the nearest of the two winged spheres. Gallus was firing before the targeting computer had a chance to beep it's approval. The shot went wide as the enemy craft pulled into a roll at the last second. He snarled and kicked the control board with one dangling foot before banking in pursuit.

Now the hunter had become the prey. The enemy fighter bobbed and wove it's way around the meandering rock formations, trying to stay out of harms way while at the same time leading the freighter into the waiting hands of it's companions. Gallus wasn't falling for it.

For all the Tie-fighter's expert deception the little pilot somehow saw right through it. In one moment he was following along like a dutiful patsy and in the next he had veered off around another asteroid to come charging in behind the box fighter, guns blazing. The small vessel was consumed in a matter of seconds by the ravenous energy of it's explosion. Rapidly cooling vapor was all that was left to eddy around the stolen freighter as it rushed passed.

The pirates were not finished yet, however. With blinding speed the A-wing strafed past, seemingly out of nowhere, landing a series of scaring blows across the freighter's dorsal shields. The rickety ship shook with each contact before the swift fighter had disappeared again into the islands of rock. Gallus turned to pursue, following further and further into the asteroid field.

"Why are you following?" Bala gripped his wounded side and leaned on the pilots chair as he watched his fate unfold. "For the last time, just get us out of here!"

"Patience Commander," the hooded figure said. He spoke with the distracted quality one uses when speaking to a child while trying to read or work. "If we leave the field now we will be open targets for the fighters while the navicomputer plots a safe course. We shall be on our way in due time."

As the freighter sped on, Bala looked back at his lieutenants and then down to the pistol at his side. Both of their nods were almost imperceptible. So was the slight smile and glimmer that played across the snout and eyes of Darth Gallus.

Seconds before the ships computer could beep a warning the uncanny pilot pulled up and turned into an impossible spin that brought them nose to nose with the truant A-wing. The unsuspecting fighter banked hard to avoid the collision and sent itself careening into a frozen wall and an icy grave. Gallus had come to an all-stop that had nearly turned the inertial dampers into modern art and watched the crash of his enemy while his passengers picked themselves up from the cabin floor. Two down, two to go.

Those last two now came in hard and fast. With the freighter sitting idle, the pair of Ties had split and come in from opposite sides. A classic maneuver. A clamp of green plasma pounded in on both sides of the floating ship, but only for a second. In the next instant the freighter was on the move again and the Ties were whipping past each other and turning hard to follow.

Now it was the freighter who was forced to bob and weave in an effort to evade destruction. Tie-fighters are a lot faster then a beat-up old cargo hauler, however, and they were gaining quickly on their prey. What they had forgotten was the fact that their prey could fire backwards.

Both fighters dodged nimbly as the first wave of retaliation broke past them. One rising up and matching speed with it's enemy, the other staying at the rear to nip at it's heels. The freighter turned and spun but nothing would shake the two from their course. This kill would be all the sweeter for the trouble it had caused.

The rear Tie fired again into it's enemy. That freighter couldn't take much more punishment now. One more good hit should do it. The fighter pilot tightened his concentration as the fleeing ship ducked smoothly under an on-coming rock formation and the Tie above mimicked perfectly. It came as a complete surprise when the pilot watched his partner inexplicably change course sharply and hammer straight into that very rock. It was almost as if a colossal hand had pushed it.

In that moment of confusion Gallus struck again. The ships cannons poured out their destruction and the remaining fighter was transformed into a rapidly expanding cloud. Without a second thought the freighter was pushing out of the asteroid field and making the jump to hyperspace and safety.

[Mr Bean]

Ooh a Crazy old Sith intresting as always