StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Part III


Picard sighed as he looked at Grand Admiral Thrawn. Minutes before he'd returned home, only to find an Imperial officer in his quarters. Despite his instincts, he decided to at least hear him out. "But let's get this over with quickly," he said curtly.

"Thank you. As you may remember, I was in the delta quadrant under Imperial orders to exterminate the Borg. With the absence of the Emperor, those orders were obviously in question. The members of my fleet agreed that with the overall collapsing of Imperial authority in both galaxies we would need to find some way to fulfill our overall mission: protect the citizenry of the Empire."

"Except the Empire you knew no longer exists," Picard said. Where was Thrawn going with this?

"Not in the strict sense, no," Thrawn admitted. "So, we decided that we would recreate the Empire, one based on more... enlightened, principles. Concepts such as rule by fear, discrimination based on race, and other mindless regulations were dispensed with. Now, we serve as protectors of an area of over four hundred lightyears in the delta quadrant."

"Protectors. You mean as conquerors."

"No," Thrawn replied adamantly. "Protectors. Every system under our 'control' has accepted it voluntarily, and not under duress. They provide us with the materials and personnel we require and acknowledge our overall authority, and we ensure their protection from any outside invasion."

"You're right," Picard replied. "It's not conquest, it's extortion."

"Picard, please, listen to reason. These people asked for our protection. Don't you know what's happening in the delta quadrant in the recent weeks?"

Picard hesitated. With the work on setting up the capital on Coruscant he was a bit out of the loop. "Enlighten me."

"The Borg, ambassador. They're everywhere. One system after another has been falling before them. They're on some new mission of expansion, and no one can understand why." Thrawn leaned towards Picard in his chair. "The systems under our control want our protection from the Borg. That's why they'll accept our authority, because it's better us than assimilation."

Grudgingly, Picard had to admit he'd make the same choice. Even after all that had happened, he'd take the Empire over the Borg any day of the week. "Fine, you've set up your own little kingdom out there. Congratulations. Now what do you want?"

"Peace, Picard. I want peace with the Republic and the Federation and anyone else who holds a grudge against the Empire." He passed over a datapad. "We are the New Empire, Picard. We want to forget the past and build for the future, to create something that will endure and prosper; and peace, not war, is the answer."

Picard looked over the datapad briefly. The request was straightforward enough, but the man delivering it..... that was a whole other matter. "I'll consider it."

Thrawn stood up. "Thank you ambassador. And now, I need to return. I can only imagine what the Borg are doing in my absence."
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Hojekia wasn't well known outside thirty light-years. It was a small planet that had the distinction of being the only habitable world in a solar system rich in minerals. The miners would regularly return to the planet, mostly to spend their hard-earned credits on wasted luxuries they'd probably regret later on, but for the moment that was all they needed. Besides the miners and the locals who earned a living around their influx, there were workers in the refineries that processed the ores, and the fairly regular collection of traders coming to the planet.

In short, Hojekia was mind-numbingly dull. At least, that was the opinion of the large man eating in one of the restaurants on this tiny world. Even the specially-reinforced chair groaned under his massive bulk as he consumed a meal that covered the entire table. The first thing to be noticed about the man was his size, well over two meters tall, his chest at least eighty centimeters across, if not more. The kind of person who didn't stand so much as loom. The second thing, if the observer stuck around after seeing the first, would be his odd complexion. His skin was chalk white, but his head was cropped with blue hair that curved around his face into a wide beard. He sat hunched over in his chair, trying his best to eat with the ridiculously small utensils in his large hands, muttering curses as food fell here and there while he tried to finish his meal so he could get off this stinking planet to someplace a little more interesting. All things considered, he thought, that shouldn't be too hard at all.

He heard an alarm and the surprise caused the utensil to slip out of his grip, bouncing away as it hit the floor. He offered a curse known only to eight scholars of xenoanthropology and an extinct race. While he groped about trying to find it a voice spoke in urgency. "Alert! The Borg are coming! Everyone, please seek transport off planet in a speedy and orderly manner! Alert..." The message repeated itself, although few could hear it over the sounds of screaming, both in the restaurant and in the street outside.

Finally, the gentleman located where his lost utensil had ricocheted to and reached for it, only to watch it get scrunched under a passing foot. He looked up and scowled at the owner of the foot, but the fool was already to the door and wasn't worth chasing after. "'Scuse me," his deep voice rumbled to the server as she came running by, "I need another...." Sadly, she didn't seem to notice, but instead followed the herd tearing out of the restaurant. "Hmph," he said to no one in particular, "no tip for you."

Since the place had cleared out he decided to dispense with the pleasantries and grabbed a handful of food and shoved it into his mouth, then stood up, arcing his aching back with the sound of several deep cracks and a relieved sigh. On his way out he wiped his hands off on one of the curtains; it wasn't like the owner was going to care.

Borg huh? he thought as he slowly ambled through the panicked streets. Haven't heard much from them in a while; must've gotten tired of trading punches with Thrawn. Of course, these thoughts were mere idle musings as he opened the hatch on his ship and took off. Wasn't any concern of his, and if there was one thing he'd learned, it was when to get involved and when to sit back and watch. Hojekia wasn't much for a dinner, but maybe it'd be good for a show at least.
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In the depths of Coruscant, far beneath its glittering cityscape, lies the most well-hidden Imperial prison in the galaxy. So secure is the location, in fact, that even though the Republic had thoroughly seized the world, the prison continued to run. The only true change, however, was in that of leadership. The prison had been put in place by Ysanne Isard; ironically, she now lay screaming in one of her own torture devices.

"There were some inconsistencies in your previous remarks," a voice said. "I'd like you to pay a great deal more attention to the little details. They prove important in the long run." Before any more could be said, the door opened, and a man walked in. "Ah, excuse me, Ysanne," the voice said.

The man bowed. "Blessed One," he said, "as predicted, the Rebels murdered Elhid in the square."

"His bravery in volunteering for this role will serve us well," the Blessed One said. "And what of the implants? Have the Rebel fools taken the bait?"

"Yes, Blessed One," he said. "Even now they are being transported to the alpha quadrant, to the one you spoke of."

"Excellent."

The man wet his lips. "Pardon me for asking," he said with reverence, "but what does this have to do with our plans?"

"Everything," the Blessed One said. "Through me, the Emperor has presented a flawless plan, even if it seems at first to be inscrutable. As incomprehensible as it may seem, the Borg will prove instrumental in the restoration of our great leader."

"And the power you promised us?"

"He will reward you greatly," the Blessed One said. "I promise you." The man nodded and walked back out. The Blessed One considered what had happened, then turned back. "Oh, sorry Ysanne. I do get distracted at times." A dial was turned, and Isard's screams grew. "Now, let's talk, shall we?"
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Luke watched the Borg drones. They looked like so many cadavers, marching around in lifeless fashion, the technology that was merged with their bodies trying to imitate the life that no longer burned in those dead eyes. He could feel them, thousands of them, all thinking as one. And at the moment, those thoughts were focused on him. He lit his lightsaber as they approached. "I thought you said they'll ignore us until they consider us a threat?"

Riker and the other officers had their phasers out. "They seem to have changed their tactics.... again," he replied, motioning some of the officers down a corridor. Luke turned and-

"Young Skywalker," the Emperor said to him. "Those were some of my best and most loyal troops you've killed."

"Guess they weren't good enough."

The Sith's wicked face grew, filling the entire scene, his grin chilling. "Are you?"

"Skywalker!" Seven shouted distantly. "Would you kindly get your Jedi ass in gear!"

The images came much faster this time. Borg cubes, Star Destroyers, small triangular ships, Cardassians, Klingons, humans, drones, Leia, Chewie, Han, Vader, Seven of Nine-

And suddenly there was emptiness. And a lone voice echoed to Luke from the expanse.

"Told you I did. Reckless is he."

Luke looked into the void but saw nothing. "Master Yoda," he called.

"Forewarned you were, yet still, you walk the path. The evil grows."

"What do you mean?" Luke cried out. "We stopped the Emperor! We defeated the Empire and restored freedom to the galaxy."

Yoda sighed. "Still you fail to see. You seek out your father, and walk in his path."

Luke's eyes snapped opened. Far more powerful visions this time, that was for certain. He pulled out a towel and wiped the sweat from his body, and walked out of the room into the garden. Selvik was waiting for him, complete with a full cup of tea and an empty chair. Luke, not saying a word, sat and began to drink.

"You seem disturbed," Selvik finally said, taking a sip of his own tea as he continued to look at the garden.

"I'm not sure what to make of this," Luke replied.

"Was it the Borg again?"

"Yes," he replied. "But, there was more. I heard my master's voice, rebuking me. I don't know if it's really him or just myself." He smiled. "Sorry. You probably find the notion of me actually talking to him ridiculous."

"It is illogical to assume that our knowledge defines the limits of reality," Selvik said. "What we know today may be rendered obsolete by the discovery of tomorrow. Of what matter did your master speak?"

"About a growing evil," Luke said. "I thought he meant the Emperor, but he's dead." He was quiet. "And he spoke of my father."

"Did he provide you any information?"

"Only more riddles." He recounted what he could recall.

"Fascinating," Selvik said, placing the cup on the saucer. As always, he was the perfect picture of calm.

"What do you think?" Luke asked him.

"It is not what I think, but what you think, that is important."

"But I trust your judgment Selvik."

"And I yours. And for that reason, I will leave it to you to answer this question." Luke nodded. He didn't like it, but Selvik was right. "I was planning to tend to the garden now," Selvik said. "Do you wish to join me?"

"As always, my friend." The two stood up and tended to the earth. It brought him such peace to feel the dirt in his hands, the warmth of the sun, and the flush of life emanating from the plants. As always, Selvik knew how to help the Jedi to find the calm needed to understand what had happened. When they were finished, Selvik approached.

"You've reached your decision?" he asked.

"Yes," Luke said, rinsing the dirt from his hands. "I appreciate all you've taught me, and I'll always carry your teachings with me. But the time has come for me to leave Vulcan."

"If that is what you desire, then I wish you a peaceful journey my friend."

"Thank you, Selvik, for everything."

The Vulcan nodded in acknowledgement. Later that day Luke's X-Wing rose off the red surface and disappeared into the sky. Selvik, of course, felt no sorrow, but there was an absence to be sure. He sat under the sun and listened to the buzzing creatures from his garden, alone.
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Seven of Nine entered the access code, and the box opened with a hiss. She reached inside. As described, they were Borg implants, memory engrams to be exact. She placed them on the bench in Science Room 1 and looked them over carefully. They seemed undamaged. After several hours of examination, she reached a decision and activated her comm badge. "Seven to Captain Riker and Lt. Travis," she said. They acknowledged, and she asked them to come down to the lab. She began some preparations while she waited, and soon the door opened.

"Something to report, commander?" Riker asked, Travis close behind.

"Yes," Seven said. "I have examined the engrams and determined they are from my former unimatrix, thus I have the ability to access their information. I believe this may provide a vital clue to the recent activity on Coruscant."

"Good, is that why we're here?"

"I thought you would wish to learn of my intentions before I began," Seven said. "I will be accessing them with my own systems," she explained. "There is a small but nevertheless possible chance they might cause a failure of my systems, and I would momentarily lose control. If that were to happen, I would potentially pose a danger to the ship. However, this is unlikely, and if it were to take place, the lieutenant should be able to stop me."

"Wait a minute," Riker said. "You don't go risking yourself just to try to get some information."

"The risk, captain, is minimal, and I believe the potential threat of not doing so is great. How and why a group of Imperial sympathizers would acquire Borg memory implants could be very important if they begin bolder activity. I am willing to take the risk."

Riker looked around as he considered it, then nodded to Travis, who pulled out his phaser. "Proceed, commander. Just be careful."

"Agreed," Seven said. The implants had already been prepared. It only took a few seconds of work and then-

The next thing she knew, Riker had grabbed hold of her by her upper arms and was looking into her face with visible concern. "Commander what's happened?" he demanded. Her mouth fell open and she began trembling. "Commander?" She let out a horrifying scream, then collapsed.
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"No," Han shouted over the noise of the crowd, "I don't want to buy any fruit! I need to know where the Research Center is!" The small pale man continued to hold up some brownish-orange fruit that smelled awful and probably tasted worse. This was really starting to get him angry. First, he's got to fly clear across the galaxy because of communication problems, and then the locals decide to give him zero cooperation. He turned away in frustration and stormed off through the crowd, Chewbacca close behind. "Next time Leia tells me to run an errand like this," he told the Wookiee, "Talk me out of it." The Wookiee growled in agreement. Han finally noticed a Starfleet uniform in the distance, and started pushing his way through the crowd, but it was difficult. As if things weren't bad enough, it seemed to be the prime time for purchasing goods, and the street was flooded. Finally he stopped. "Chewie," he jerked his head at the crowd. Chewbacca gave a massive roar and immediately a path cleared in front of them. "Thanks."

The man in the uniform seemed a little concerned as the two came up to him, but Han pulled out his identification. "Han Solo, acting on behalf of the New Republic," he said crisply. He knew enough about Feddies to know how to deal with them: adhere to strict protocol. "I need to find the Research Center."

The young man looked over the identification, and finally tapped some information onto a PADD, passing it over. "This'll take you straight to it, sir." A half hour later they finally found the building, but again, the problems seemed to continue.

"I'm here on orders from Leia Organa Solo," he said to the figure on the screen. "Ambassador of the New Republic to the Romulan Star Empire. They've lost communications and want to know your status."

"Everything's fine," the man said testily. "Thanks ever so for coming, now have a pleasant day."

"Listen," Han said, clearly at the end of his rope, "I didn't spend days crossing the galaxy for an 'everything's fine'. I want a detailed report of your situation to bring back to my superiors, and if I don't have it, they'll pull the plug on your little-"

"Don't threaten me!" the man replied stiffly. "This is a Federation project-"

"Utilizing Republic technology," Han replied. "And the deal was: we give you technology, you keep us informed. You don't keep your end, then there's no way in hell we'll keep ours."

The man was furious, but he pushed the button anyway, opening the door to the turbolift. Han and Chewie stepped past the guards and rode up to the office of the gentleman, who was holding out his PADD with severe annoyance. "Will this be satisfactory?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes, thank you for your cooperation," Han replied with contempt. He gave it a quick scan. "You're researching hypermatter reactors?"

"Yes," he replied. "We've managed to create a small reactor in fact, which can generate a tremendous amount of energy. We may even surpass the power of the Death Star when we complete our large-scale prototype."

"Well, that'll be good news for the galaxy," Han replied. "Especially considering how many lives were lost trying to get rid of the last one."

The man's eyes narrowed to slits. "It will be used for peaceful purposes."

"Of course, of course," Han replied, heading for the turbolift. "Science is only ever used for good, not for making weapons. Have a nice day."

"Man, can you believe this," Han remarked to Chewie as they walked through the streets towards their ship. "Here we risk life and limb, have tens of thousands die, to get rid of the Death Star, and here these eggheads want to try and rebuild it." Chewie growled something but Han waved it off. "In case you didn't notice furball, Starfleet is a military organization. And any military organization always looks at technology for its potential in defense. And that means this thing will be used as a weapon if they get the chance." Several barks and growls were spoken. "Oh yeah, the Federation'll keep 'em in check, that's for sure. It's not like they made any mistakes before, like, say, forming an alliance with the Empire. You know, the best possible thing that could happen would be for that whole center to just disappear off the face of this planet." As he finished speaking, a green streak came out of nowhere and disintegrated a nearby shop. "What the..?!" Han said as he and Chewie spun around to look at the devastation. The crowd was now going nuts, trying to find a way to escape.

There was another explosion nearby. Han pulled out his electrobinoculars and looked up in the general direction of where the shots had come. "Oh, great," he said as he looked at the Borg sphere hovering over the planet. "One of these days I've gotta learn to keep my mouth shut."

So, am I detecting a certain ironic twisting of a comic book plotline that happened in the aftermath of the Emperor's death in the Original Timeline?

Sorry for the oblique nature of the inquiry, but I'm trying not to give away potentially still valid plot twists to those experiencing this story for the first time.

This saga is like a fine wine, it gets so much better with age.

Not to mention you add much more stuff you've learned from the EU, prequals, later ST series and so on, so it just gets *that* much richer...

Very nice. I continue to marvel at your seemingly effortless incorperation of humour with more serious subject matter. The Kalib scene is excellant but was the Lusankya/Isard bit in the original?

consequences wrote:So, am I detecting a certain ironic twisting of a comic book plotline that happened in the aftermath of the Emperor's death in the Original Timeline?

Sorry for the oblique nature of the inquiry, but I'm trying not to give away potentially still valid plot twists to those experiencing this story for the first time.

I know very, very little about Star Wars comics. I think I have Dark Empire around here somewhere, but that's about it.

Chris OFarrell wrote:This saga is like a fine wine, it gets so much better with age.

Not to mention you add much more stuff you've learned from the EU, prequals, later ST series and so on, so it just gets *that* much richer...

Thanks very much. It's neat to find those nuggets that gel with what's going on.

Crazedwraith wrote:Very nice. I continue to marvel at your seemingly effortless incorperation of humour with more serious subject matter. The Kalib scene is excellant but was the Lusankya/Isard bit in the original?

Isard is new. There were some elements in the original version that, in retrospect, really didn't go anywhere, so this will help flesh that out a bit.

Well done, sir. I enjoyed the Isard bit, but just the flow of the aftermath and what this leads to is so very nice...especially Thrawn's statement.

Man, I can't say it enough... You sir, are a master of your craft. I can't wait to see where this goes. As such I won't even attempt to read the original. I want it all fresh.

Sonnenburg wrote:
I know very, very little about Star Wars comics. I think I have Dark Empire around here somewhere, but that's about it.

Potential Spoilers to the original release ahoy!:
By the Emperor's Hand, graphic novel that deals with Mara Jade in the immediate aftermath of the Emperor's death. She, being loyal and obedient to orders reports back to Coruscant after her assignment immediately after Jabba's Palace, and Isaard, being a paranoid obnoxious psycho-bitch, imprisons her with the intent to apply vigorous interrogation techniques. The irony, especially if unintentional, of your juxtaposition of their roles is delicious.

Thanks again for the feedback guys.

consequences wrote:

Sonnenburg wrote:
I know very, very little about Star Wars comics. I think I have Dark Empire around here somewhere, but that's about it.

Potential Spoilers to the original release ahoy!:
By the Emperor's Hand, graphic novel that deals with Mara Jade in the immediate aftermath of the Emperor's death. She, being loyal and obedient to orders reports back to Coruscant after her assignment immediately after Jabba's Palace, and Isaard, being a paranoid obnoxious psycho-bitch, imprisons her with the intent to apply vigorous interrogation techniques. The irony, especially if unintentional, of your juxtaposition of their roles is delicious.

Damn, now I wish I'd done that on purpose.

Part IV


A fire burned at the center of a camp, if that word could be used to describe the primitive situation. There was no shelter, no provision for sleep. Around the fire stood four Borg drones, retaining warmth to ensure their biological forms were not damaged by the elements while one of their number cooked a portion of a beast.

"I have performed this action before," 7 of 9 said quietly. "I was with my father. He was a tall man."

Nearby, Two of Nine had a change to his expression. "I have a similar memory, but, I was in a house and the fire was in the hearth."

Four of Nine, who was cooking the animal, held it out on a stick. "The biomatter is ready." They all took some and ate; a primitive means of survival, but until their re-assimilation, the only option.

"It tastes similar to a bird I once ate," Three of Nine remarked.

Four of Nine looked puzzled. "I used to prepare food for my parents. They lived in a small building by a river."

7 of 9 looked about the camp, visibly trying to suppress her fear. "I... used to be... afraid of the dark." The shadows along the treeline looked to be moving in the low light of the fire. There was no logical reason to assume something was within them, but logic was irrelevant.

"Just before I was assimilated," Two of Nine said, "I was eating with a group of men. We worked in numbers. Mathematics. I calculated equations for another man."

Three of Nine's eyes widened. "I have a name." The others looked at her. "It's Marika. Marika Willkarah. Willkarah."

"Hello, Marika Willkarah," said Four of Nine.

7 of 9 trembled just for a second. "Her designation is Three of Nine."

"I have a name," Four of Nine went on. "P'Chan, son of Dornar and Ansha. My primary function was to care for them."

Three of Nine looked distant. "I was married. We were on a starship, the Excalibur. I worked in Engineering."

Two of Nine examined his left arm. "This is not my hand."

"My parents- are dead," Four of Nine said, a quiver of emotion in his voice. "The Borg killed them. I... hate the Borg."

7 of 9 looked again at the shadows. There was no threat... she... She stood up straight, and spoke, but there was a clear sound of emotion in it. "This is counterproductive. We must delete all irrelevant data."

Two of Nine still stared at his arm. "I want my hand back."

"I was on duty," Three of Nine said, "the night watch, when the Borg came. Oh - my - God," she looked down at her body, "look at what they've done to me. These... these things they put in my body. What have they done?"

"Command override," 7 of 9 ordered, seizing control of the quartet using her secondary protocols. "Cease this interaction. Comply!" The other drones stopped their movements. "We will not access these memory files again. Initiate the prescribed maintenance and survival protocols only. No further communication is required until we are re-assimilated into the Collective."

"Agreed," they said in turn, and the group continued to stand around the fire. Yet the shadows refused to go away.
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Lieutenant Commander Borui nodded. "So these implants were from your old subjunction."

"Yes," Seven said after a moment's hesitation. "The data was fragmented, as was mine, but when they were linked together the gaps were filled in between them. I recall fully the events."

Borui nodded at her. She was Troi's replacement as counselor on board the Enterprise, but she didn't fill the roll the way Deanna had. Seven had met with her once years before, but had not enjoyed the experience. She was only here now because of orders from Captain Riker. "You said this was on Planet-" she checked her notes, "1865 alpha. What exactly happened there?"

Seven was silent, but she had her orders. "Our ship crashed," she explained. "A small scout vessel. Our connection to the Collective was severed, and our individuality attempted to re-assert itself."

"What was it like?"

"It was... frightening," Seven said. "The others eventually attempted to escape..." She looked down and closed her eyes. "I stopped them."

"Why did you?"

"Because- Because we had to return to the Collective," Seven finally said. "It was my purpose to ensure that my subjunction obeyed secondary protocols."

"So what did you do?"

"I found them, one by one," Seven said. "I used my nanoprobes to make alterations to their brains so that they would remain linked. It was sufficient until we were returned to the Collective."

"Do you regret that?" Borui asked. "Is that why you reacted as you did when you accessed the file?"

"No," Seven said. "As I said, at the time, I had been afraid. Having the fear returning suddenly was momentarily overwhelming." She closed her eyes. Very overwhelming, she thought.
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There were some days when it wasn't easy being Will Riker, and today definitely ranked near the top. The Borg... it figured this would happen eventually. It had been the Empire, after all, that had kept them busy for so long, but with their back broken, there was nothing to hold the Collective back. And they had hyperdrive... they could be at Earth in days if they wanted. The galaxy was starting to become a very scary place. Riker knew that with his experience in particular, the Enterprise's in general, and the presence of the only Borg in Starfleet, that whatever happened would put them right in the middle of things.

The door chime interrupted his thoughts. "Come," he called.

Borui entered. "Is this a bad time captain," she asked.

"Actually counselor," Riker said as he rubbed his eyes, "I could use the break. How's Seven?"

"Shaken up," Borui said. "I have a full report, but the upshot is simply that some very frightening memories found their way into her head, but that's all. For the most part, I don't think it's a need for concern."

"I beg to differ," Riker said, tossing the PADD onto his desk and lounging back. "Those implants are from three drones that were part of the same Borg sub-group as Seven; now, the Collective is a big damn place, counselor." He shook his head. "Have you any idea how long the odds are that this was all a coincidence?"

"Actually, it is possible," Borui said. "Seven speculated that the modifications she made to the drones could have caused them to function as a collective within the Collective, and that could have allowed them to possibly escape. If so, they'd likely remove the implants. In other words, if Borg implants wound up on the black market, it wouldn't be surprising if they were from them."

"Even allowing that," Riker said, "the timing is suspect. Our greatest expert on the Borg is suddenly confronted with these engrams causing her to have a psychological episode, and at the same time the Borg have begun to move throughout the galaxy."

"You think there's more going on?"

"Damned if I know," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It doesn't make sense; no one works with the Borg, but the coincidence is too great to be just a coincidence."

Borui nodded. "There's something else," she said. "Not on Seven, but the Borg. I'm concerned about the feelings of the crew. They seem on edge."

Like Deanna, Borui was a betazoid, and thus empathic. "If they're only on edge, I take that as a sign of great self-control."

"Perhaps," Borui replied. "But I think that part of it is coming from you, Will." She hesitated. "Since we received the first reports of Borg activity spreading you've been a bit on edge on yourself, and it's only natural the crew reflects some of that."

"Commander," Riker said leaning forward, "Besides Seven, how much time have you spent dealing with the Borg?"

"None," she admitted.

Riker nodded. "At the Neutral Zone, I saw their handiwork. When Q flung us off to God-knows-where, I got to see them in action, and it terrified me. I fought them before Wolf 359 and I saw what they'd committed afterwards. I faced off against them at Earth twice, and I participated in the Imperial assault. As far as I'm aware, I'm the first human to walk a Borg Cube and not become a part of the Collective. You see counselor, I'm on edge because I know exactly what the Borg are capable of. And there are many members of this crew who know of the same experiences I do, who watched their friends get assimilated. I have a respect for what the Collective is capable of, and I refuse to ever allow myself to underestimate them."

Borui nodded. "I understand, captain, but, I think that perhaps-"

She was cut off by the yellow alert alarm. "Captain Riker, report to the bridge," said Geordi's voice. Riker headed towards the door, not a trace of exhaustion on his face. "We'll have to continue this later." In under a minute he was on the bridge."

"We've got a report of a Borg attack," Laforge told him. "Yarval Outpost in sector 912."

"Project a course and engage the hyperdrive," Riker ordered the helm. "How long ago did they initiate the attack?"

"Three hours," Seven remarked from Science Station 1. She noticed his reaction. "The Borg seem to have eliminated several holonet relays interfering in communications."

"Helm," Riker said, taking his chair, "shave this as close as you can, we may already be out of time."
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“You!” Han said to a nearby Federation officer as he flashed his ID. “What’s the situation?” The young woman seemed nervous as the Corellian and his Wookiee companion stormed up to her amidst the chaos that Yarval had become.

“Borg ships, sir,” she replied. “Eight of them.”

“Eight?” Han said, looking at Chewie in shock. “I thought the Borg sent only one Cube to assimilate the whole Federation, and they send eight to take this mudball?”

“Actually, three Cubes, five Spheres.”

“I stand corrected,” Han said sarcastically. “We need to evacuate and I mean everybody.”

“We’ve sent a distress signal...”

“Great, we’ve just got to stop eight Borg ships in the meantime, no problem.” Han signaled to Chewie and they walked off through the panicked streets. “Let’s get back to the Falcon. Maybe we can buy these poor bastards some time.” Chewie growled in reply. “I don’t know! I’ll think of something.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a single scream that immediately rippled into a group panic as Borg drones appeared. “Get to your transports!” Han shouted to the crowd as he pulled out his blaster and shot down a nearby drone. Chewie’s bowcaster downed another as well, but there were more where they came from, lots more. They weren’t going to do much good that way, so Han and Chewie ran back towards the docking bay while the slow moving drone army followed.

“You fly,” Han said as they continued their run, “I’ll take the lower quad; that’ll make short work of the drones.” A Borg stepped out from behind a corner and made a grab for Han’s neck, but he ducked out of the way while Chewbacca grabbed it. It pulled its left arm up towards the Wookiee’s neck. “Chewie look out!” his friend warned, and the Wookiee forced the arm away while two assimilation tubules shot out of its arm, stopping just a couple centimeters from his hairy neck. Han pulled out his blaster but two more drones came and he was forced to deal with them. While Han dispatched the newcomers Chewie, with a grunt of strength, pulled the mechanical arm from its socket and clubbed the Borg over the head with it, splitting its skull open. He dropped the limb as the two of them continued their sprint to their ship, firing all the way. The Borg were everywhere now; they'd do what they could, but anyone who hadn't already gotten away wasn't likely going to. They charged up the ramp and Han slapped the door release while Chewie charged for the cockpit.

“Activate the surface defense cannon,” Han called after him as he headed towards the well where the guns were. That should keep them away while they lifted off, he thought. He reached for the ladder, then leapt backwards in shock. “There’s something in here,” he whispered. It was something gray, but he hadn’t seen much. Whatever it was, he decided as he pulled out his blaster, it was hitching a ride on his ship. He stepped over the well and looked down at the gray alien face that was surrounded by tubes and implants. A drone. He fired right between its eyes and it fell down the shaft. He moved to holster his gun but the sound made him stop, and he watched in surprise as it started slowly climbing the ladder towards him. He heard about adaptation; whether or not it applied to blasters was unclear, but standing here wouldn't help. Besides, he had an old creed: when in doubt, find a bigger gun. He rushed over to the equipment locker and pulled out an old medium repeating blaster cannon, a scaled down version of an E-Web. The clanking sound grew worse as its head peered out of the well.

Han lugged the cannon over to the power socket and fumbled as he attached the power input to the socket. The drone was out of the well now; it was huge, Han noticed, not like the other drones at all. He heaved the cannon up and fired, hitting it center of mass while he fell backwards from the recoil. It was meant to be fired mounted on a bipod, but Han didn’t have time for that, he watched as the drone continued its slow path towards him, tossing equipment out of the way as it came. He pulled up fired again, glancing it on the left shoulder, but still it kept coming. He propped the cannon up on his knees and braced his back against the wall. It was only two meters away now. He aimed and pulled back on the trigger, and watched as the drone’s already blackened chest cracked open on impact and it staggered. Han was just about to fire again when it collapsed to the floor. He felt the Falcon lift off; the whole thing had taken under a minute, he realized. He stepped into the cockpit and slid into his seat, Chewie growling at him.

“Almost brought a passenger,” Han answered as they lifted off over the Yarval docking bay. He saw the sky was filled with various ships, all hoping to flee the terror of the Borg. Maybe they could help buy those civilians some time, he thought, and headed towards space.
--------------------------------------------------------------

He shifted his wide frame in his chair as he watched the ships encircle the planet. They paid him no attention; you didn’t live as long as he did without knowing how to trick the Borg. Yeah, something was definitely odd about them, he thought to himself. This was overkill, and that wasn’t the Borg’s style. At least at Hojekia they’d only sent a single cube, but eight ships wasn’t even sporting. He watched as some of the locals tried to mount a defense, smiling in bemusement at their feeble attempts. You’re going to try to outmuscle that? He cracked his knuckles as he watched one of the ships explode; it sounding like rivets popping on a submarine.

Well, it really wasn’t very fair at all was it. He flipped three switches on a panel located on his left and a crosshair appeared on the screen centered on one of the Borg Spheres. He pushed a button on his chair and watched as the missile lanced out and cracked through its outer hull, exploding a second later and destroying the ship completely. “There,” his rumbling voice said to the poor ships fighting the Borg, “Don’t say I never gave you nothin’.”
--------------------------------------------------------------

“Captain,” Lt. Travis said as the Enterprise continued towards Yarval, “We’ve got a signal coming in, audio only.”

“Let’s hear it,” Riker said, shifting in his chair. The adrenaline rush had subsided during the lull as they were approaching Yarval and he could feel his exhaustion returning. Hopefully the heat of battle would give him a second or third wind as they went against the Borg.

“Attention incoming vessel,” the voice said. “You're on course for the Yarval Outpost. Be advised that the system has been captured and assimilated by the Borg. I suggest you turn around or seriously alter course unless you’ve got some kinda death wish.”

“Who is that?” Geordi asked Riker. “Doesn’t sound like a civilian or military personnel.”

“Open the channel,” Riker ordered. “Vessel, this is the Enterprise of the United Federation of Planets. Identify yourself.”

There was a brief silence. “Riker?”

“Yes,” the captain replied. “Captain William Riker of the Enterprise, speaking on behalf…”

“This is Captain Han Solo,” the voice interrupted. “Long time no see.”

Riker looked a little surprised, then caught up. Yeah, only one person he knew spoke military protocol with personal commentary. “It has been. What’s the situation on Yarval?”

“Exactly what I said; total assimilation.” He was quiet for a moment. “Captain, if you don’t mind stopping for a while, there’s something I’d like to show you. A gift from the Borg.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Solo replied. “But I think it spells a whole heap of trouble for all of us.”

Wookie-Fu for the win!

Hmm. It's much more surprising this time around that 8472 has been assimilated. I totally forgot about it and didn't even realize the scene was cut.

As always, the rewrite is spectacular. I like being surprised.

Now I'd like to see those techno-zombies adapt to the beating Chewie gave them. I could almost see a scene from Shawn of the Dead with Chewie in the role whacking away with the Borg arm. Of course, I'm getting off topic. Great update, I can't wait to see what the deal with the Borg is.

I fucking hate Borui.

Annoying Betazoids and Borg, with Chewie whomping puny Borg!

Good stuff all around.

Elessar wrote:Hmm. It's much more surprising this time around that 8472 has been assimilated. I totally forgot about it and didn't even realize the scene was cut.

As always, the rewrite is spectacular. I like being surprised.

Thanks. I think it'll be better for the story this way... it gives the scene a bit more punch.

consequences wrote:Wookie-Fu for the win!

ElPintoGrande wrote:Now I'd like to see those techno-zombies adapt to the beating Chewie gave them. I could almost see a scene from Shawn of the Dead with Chewie in the role whacking away with the Borg arm. Of course, I'm getting off topic. Great update, I can't wait to see what the deal with the Borg is.

Ghost Rider wrote:Annoying Betazoids and Borg, with Chewie whomping puny Borg!

Good stuff all around.

Chewie is the man in my book. Seven was pretty damn lucky it wasn't him in the Tsunkatse ring with her.

Dalton wrote:I fucking hate Borui.

Five years and the hate lives on...

Sonnenburg wrote:

Dalton wrote:I fucking hate Borui.

Five years and the hate lives on...

You'd better not make her likable!

And Chewie was really in the Tsukantse ring?

Whoops, what a difference a "not" makes.

I've just been thinking. The assimilated lass from the Excalibur and the reference to the Thallonians in WWEr, are they references to the Peter David New Froniter books?

Crazedwraith wrote:I've just been thinking. The assimilated lass from the Excalibur and the reference to the Thallonians in WWEr, are they references to the Peter David New Froniter books?

Hell, I didn't even notice that? Are we talking about an uber-specific reference to a short story in the No Limits Anthology, or just another of those random writings that makes it look like you have an even more fiendishly detailed master plan than you actually do?

I thought someone might catch this. I wish I could say it was me being clever, but in actuality it's just a coincidence. The Thallonians were simply part of the original WWE done back in '99, simply because I thought New Frontier was pretty good and decided to give it a nod (since I'd also taken the Admiral Jellico bit and run with it). The beginning of this chapter is a recount of events that took place in the Voyager episode Survival Instinct, and to be true to the canon, I took the dialogue verbatim. So, I and Ron Moore both just happened to pick elements linked to Peter David.

Spoiler
In the original version, some of the impact of the mind game in part 30 was lost because a lack of familiarity with some parts of Seven's backstory made them confusing. Survival Instinct, One, Dark Frontier, The Raven, and Infinite Regress are the primary foundation for Seven's story in SotN. Going back and reviewing them made me realize that 1) their absense makes the story poorer, and 2) Voyager would have probably actually been good if Ron Moore stayed