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More, more, more!!!!!

Whoa, that guy at the end talking to the Borg leader sounded suspiciously like Palpatine...

Trogdor wrote:Whoa, that guy at the end talking to the Borg leader sounded suspiciously like Palpatine...

I'll say only this: there is a Sith connection to the Merging, but it's not what you think. Trust me, the clues are there...

I know of your connection to that family

That's one clue, I'm sure of it.

Her ally’s devotion to her own religion

Emphasis mine.

And that's another. (Unless it's a typo)

The question now is how many female Force-users are out there with a grudge against the Skywalkers and the connections/power to manipulate events in the way she has done so far?

For a moment, I was convinced you imported Sonnenburg's Darth Janeway.

Very good, I have one question: Did the Sand People ask the Magerthians to add a marshmellow surface to thier planet?

Prior to the Battle of Yavin 4, Luke Skywalker had called the dessert world of Tatooine the farthest world from the center of the universe.

I think you meant Desert.

Also Boba Fett was using a Slave IV by the time of the Young Jedi Knight series so I doubt he'd have a Slave III in the NJO

Crazedwraith wrote:Also Boba Fett was using a Slave IV by the time of the Young Jedi Knight series so I doubt he'd have a Slave III in the NJO

Heh, oops. Even I can't remember everything. However, since it those books were written by KJA, I know some will question their legitimacy...

I'll probably just fix it for the next chapter.

Ladies and gentlemen, it lives again! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures. Stat Wars created by George Lucas and owned by Twentieth Century Fox and Lucasfilm. I own the story and any original characters/species. No copyright infringement is intended.

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Author’s Notes: This chapter contains minor spoilers for Articles of the Federation and Titan: Taking Wing. Read at your own discretion. Other than that, as always, enjoy,

***

Act II, Part XI

“When clouds are seen wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall then winter is at hand.”


-- William Shakespeare, Richard III --


***

Location: Errant Venture
Outer Rim, That Galaxy Far, Far Away

A mug of still-steaming stimcaff barely missed Talon Karrde’s head and shattering against the bulkhead as the infamous smuggler strode into the briefing room of the renovated Star Destroyer. The room had changed little since Terrik had acquired his prize from the Empire. It still maintained a circular table with a holoprojector system built into the center. As the doors sealed, Karrde paused in mid-stride, glanced at the ceramic remains and spilled liquid, then looked at the collected gathering of smugglers.

“Was that really necessary?”

“Yes,” came the collective response. Karrde just ignored them, his attention focused on the orange-skinned individual seated next to Lando Calrissian, tapping away notes on a personal display device.

“So, I take it you’re Mr. Quark.”

Quark nodded and raised himself from his chair.

“Owner and proprietor of Quark’s Bar, Grill, Holosuite Arcade, and Gaming --”

“We already know all that; just get on with it,” somebody yelled from the back. Quark glanced over his shoulders and starred daggers for a moment before resuming his seat next to Lando, who was just shaking his head and smiling.

“Ask and ye shall receive,” Karrde said. He turned to glance at Terrik.

“Booster, if I may?”

It was a well known fact that Karrde and Terrik had a love-hate relationship for years and Talon did everything her could to aggravate Booster further. Captasin Terrik grumbled, but nodded. Satisfied, Karrde removed a holographic data rod from his rancor-leather vest and popped it into the slot next to his seat.

The lights in the briefing room dimmed as the projector flared to life, filling the chamber with an image of the Republic’s galaxy, complete with the red swath that indicated where the Yuuzhan Vong had struck thus far.

“As you know,” he began, “the Hutt homeworld of Nal Hutta was blockaded shortly after their attack on the Fondor. While most of the high-ranking Hutts were trapped as the invasion began, some managed to make it off world and have been jumping around from system to system.”

The map shifted, displaying a planet that everyone in the room was familiar with in one way or another.

“Shortly before the discovery of the Nubian wormhole, they were holed up in Jabba’s palace on Tatooine. Now -- well, I won’t say where exactly, at least not yet. The coordinates will be given shortly before we make the jump to lightspeed.”

Everyone grumbled, but Lando understood perfectly. After his information gathering had inadvertently led to the Fondor disaster and the continued downward spiral of support for the Jedi, Talaon had become almost paranoid of what kind of information entered and left the Smugglers Alliance. No, Karrde wasn’t taking any chances and Lando could sympathize.

“Needless to say, the Hutts are working like hell to get their Syndicates back up and running, but they’re having trouble. They need supplies and thus far, the Smuggler’s Alliance had provided. However, they’ve become very interested in the Alpha Quadrant as a result of the Second Battle of Sector 001. They’re very interested in establishing trade-lines with the Milky Way. As the formally-appointed representative of the Ferengi Alliance, Mr. Quark here will be our main expert negotiator.”

Lando leaned in and whispered in Quark’s ear.

“Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“In return, they have further information on Vong fleet movements and tactics that, if not faked,” he said, bitterly making reference again to Fondor, “could prove quite useful. Any questions?”

“What if we encounter Yuuzhan Vong ships or warriors?” someone asked.

“Mr. Calrissian is best suited to answer that one. Lando?”

“Our latest intel shows that there are no Vong ships within striking distance of our destination. If they do show up, well, let’s just say we have something special planned for them. Talon?”

“Thank you, Calrissian. Any other questions? No? Alright then. Everyone prepare your ships for the jump to lightspeed and let’s get this show on the road.”

***

Location: The First City
Qo’noS, Beta Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

The practice of medicine had traditionally been an anathema to the warrior culture of the Klingon Empire. To them, one who did not wear their scars and injuries of battle proudly did not deserve to be called warriors. Those that could not overcome their injuries regularly sought the ritual suicide of Hegh'bat. However, as with so many things, the Dominion War had changed the Klingon perception on medicine.

Fighting against a foe like the Jem’Hadar that could be bred as quickly as they were killed, the High Council and Defense Force had finally realized the value of patching up and rebuilding their own warrior. While medicine was still generally shunned by the majority of the warrior culture, progress was being made, most notably by people like Dr. B’Oraq, CMO of the Gorkon.

It was the sight of Dr. B’Oraq cursing in both Klingon and Federation Basic that Anakin and Angwar saw as the warrior led them into the bed chambers of the Emperor’s Palace -- or technically Chancellor‘s Palace, pending the return of the journeying Kathless. Lying upon the bed, surrounded by medical equipment -- and a fair amount of blood, Anakin couldn’t help but note -- was the current Chancellor of the Klingon Empire.

Even with the injuries he had sustained, even with his shallow breathing and pale complexion, Martok was still as impressive a warrior as he had been while commanding the venerable Rotarran prior to its destruction at Boreth four years previous. Klag, Lorgh, and Alexander stood off to the side as Drex, Worf, Kopek, and B’Oraq went at it verbally.

“…are not worthy of that title,” Drex was saying -- or rather yelling. Having fought with him on the icy plains of Boreth, Angwar was slightly surprised that Drex hadn’t drawn his D'ktagh yet.

“Then how many times do I have to repeat it? He will not be long for this world,” B’Oraq was yelling back. “I’ve done everything I could. The damage the Chancellor took from the assassin was too extensive. And you,” she said at Worf, “I honestly expected you to understand having served with Beverley Crusher for seven years.”

Worf’s eyes narrowed, his passions and anger overriding the air of coolness he projected to both his Federation colleagues and countrymen. This doctor he not understand that bond that he and the Chancellor had forged in the Internment Camp, a bond that had sustained them during the War and Morjod’s coup.

“You are treading on thin ground, Doctor,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Klag smirked slightly, knowing how difficult it was to intimidate his CMO. Anakin studied the situation at the moment

“Is there nothing more you can do?“ he asked, his soft calming voice amplified slightly by the Force and molded on that his Uncle Luke had utilized for praxeum lessons. That got everyone’s attention as the yelling ceased.

“For the hundredth time, yes,” replied B’Oraq.

“Then let me help him.”

There was silence for a long moment as everyone starred at the teenage Jedi. Councilor Kopek was the first to respond.

“What can a human do?” sneered Kopek. Worf noted this as slightly odd. His encounters with Kopek during his ambassadorial tenure had shown that him that the Councilor was a typical aristocrat of the Empire in some areas, yet different in others. Anakin responded before Worf could pursue this thought further.

“I’m not just a human. I’m a Jedi,” Anakin couldn’t help but point out.

“Irrelevant; I refuse to let our Chancellor be treated by this, this--”

“By what, Kopek? An outsider?” asked Angwar.

“Yes!”

Angwar sighed, shaking his head as if he were addressing a incorrect pupil.

“I would have thought that the Dominion War would have taught the Empire that sometimes the unorthodox and unusual is the only way to win a battle,” the Katai replied. “Ultimately, the decision as I see it lies with his kin in the House of Martok.”

All eyes looked towards the brother and son of Martok, Worf and Drex. Those familiar with Worf’s history were aware of the genetropic replication treatment he had undergone under the controversial Toby Russell during his tour of duty aboard the Enterprise-D.

“Yes,” Worf responded without hesitation. Now all attention was on Drex. Not only was he a traditionalist in regards to the Klingon feeling on unorthodoxy, but the lost love between him and his step-Uncle was not a secret to associates of the House of Martok.

“Alright,” Drex responded, almost quietly. Angwar smiled, glad to see someone has learned something from the War. He turned to face Anakin.

“It’s your battle now, Anakin Solo,” he said to the young Jedi. Anakin took a deep breath.

Yes, he was a Jedi. But he was not a Healer, not like Cighal or her Chandra-Fan apprentice Tekli.. In regards to the miniscule records Luke had found in regards to the structuring of the Old Order, he was more of a Guadrian, just as Jacen was more of a Consular.

Then he thought back on how Cighal had removed the toxins that Cardian Ambassador Furgna had poisoned Mon Mothma with in the year after the cloned Emperor’s defeat. He wondered if he too could attempt something like that. Whether it ended in victory or defeat, he fate of an entire interstellar culture lay in his hands.

Somehow, that seemed all in a day’s work for a Jedi.

***

Location: Tipoca City
Kamino, That Galaxy Far, Far Away

“Welcome back to Tipoca City, Praetor Shinzon.”

Shinzon nodded to Banu Le as he stepped once again through the white, too-bright hallways of the Kaminoan city and into the greeting room he had spent much of the last several days in. His Zemba-class dropship had landed without injury of difficulty and he was quite anxious to learn the decision of the Council.

“May I offer you anything? Tea? Water?”

“I will be fine, Minister. I am most anxious to ascertain the result of your vote.”

“Yes, yes. As I stated at our last meeting, the Cloning Council would take your request into…”

As Banu Le rambled on for a moment, Shinzon held his breath and tried to bring his patience under control.. If this did not work, then one of three options remained. They could make a dash for Wayland, force the Kaminoans to help him through the joys of Thalaron radiation, or return to the Alpha Quadrant and ’enlist’ his ‘brother’. None of these options was quite appealing, thought, but Shinzon was certain he would have

“-- the Council has approved your request for a cloning transplant.

Shinzon blinked for a moment, uncertain as to whether or not his ears were deceiving him.

“What did you say?”

“I said that the Council has approved your request.”

For a moment, Shinzon had no idea what to say. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from his chest. He felt tremendous relief, a feeling that for a man who had helped to seize the Thalaron generator of Goloroth and overthrow the mighty Romulan Senate, had never truly experienced. But it was a human emotion and he was a Reman. With that thought, his sobriety returned instantly.

“Thank you Minister.”

“I did nothing. You made the persuasive argument that helped win your case.”

“When do we begin?”

“Almost immediately. Our medical teams will need to take detailed samples and require sufficient time to grow a new body without the risk of --”

The chirping of Shinzon’s communicator interrupted Banu Le’s answer. It was a rather anticlimactic way to end the revelation of what the Praetor’s fate would be. Shinzon felt a great feeling of annoyance and a desire to kill whoever was attempting to contact him at this moment, even it was Vkruk.

“Forgive me, Minister. If I may?”

“Of course.”

Shinzon raised himself from the plush Kaminoan chair and walked across the chamber before answering the hail.

“This had better be important, Vkruk,” he growled.

But even as he spoke his Vicroy’s name, Shinzon realized that something was wrong. The normal background noise of the bridge had been replaced by the sounds of explosions, weapons fire, and the Reman equivalent of a Red Alert klaxon.

“…under attack…hyperspace…”

The communication ended as quickly as it had begun. He looked back at the Minister, his cold gaze unvering Banu Le slightly.

“Is something wr-- ?”

Without warning, Shinzon launched himself at the Kaminoan, knocking over the plush chairs as he tackled and pinned the Kaminoan to the ground. The Minister attempted to struggle, but ceased his efforts as Shinzon unsheathed his Reman dagger and placed the sharpened blade against Banu Le’s throat.

“You will tell me why you are attacking my flagship or the floor will be stained with your blood.”

“I have done nothing!” cried the Minister. “I--”

Warning klaxons suddenly began issuing throughout the hallways. Shinzon believed for a moment that the Kaminoan security systems were fare more quick that he had anticipated but then he realized that this was not the case as view screens began activating along the corridor. The displays showed what appeared to be a real-time recording from in orbit. And what Shinzon saw made him forget for a moment that he was holding a knife to the throat of the planet’s forigen minister.

The Scimitar was indeed under attack, but not from the planetary defense grid that had fired at it upon its reversion from transwarp. Its foe was instead a triangular vessel as long as the Reman Warbird’s wingspan and just as heavily armed. It was a ship that had struck fear into the hearts and minds of many since their predecessors had been introduced during the Clone Wars.

It was an Imperial Star Destroyer.

***

Location: Naboo System
Outer Rim, That Galaxy Far, Far Away

When Tsavong Lah’s war fleet had reverted to real-space in the Naboo system, they had ignored the planet entirely and instead gone straight for the Transwarp Hub that Unimatrix Zero had been construction for use by Federation and Republic forces. Despite its Borg engineering, the Hub had fallen to the sheer numbers of the Vong.

Now, two weeks after that pivotal battle, construction of the second Transwarp Hub progressing at a frantic, hectic pace. Korok was here both as an observer and a visitor. The engineering teams had working on the Fusion Cube had given it a rest for the day and he had wished to see the result of Unimatrix Zero’s sacrifices. The observation gave him time to think and meditate on recent events.

There were many -- most notably the Romulus -- who accused the Klingons of being nothing more than savage beats with little to not capacity for thought. Korok had once dismissed such claims as utter nonsense by the pointy-eared pataq’s, a statement of jealousy by the Romnulans in regards to the sense of honor and passion that they would never posses.

But his experience as a mindless drone had changed and tempered his warriors’ instincts somewhat. He had frequently been mulling over the words of the Efrosian Ra-Ghoratreii, the Federation President that had helped preisde over the Khitomer Accords.

“To mean that just because we can do a thing, it does not necessarily follow that we must do that thing.”

This was a thought that had been troubling him as of late, especially now from the observation deck of the Unimatrix Zero ship. Yes, they owed a debt of honor to Voyager and Starfleet for their freedom, but what business did they have in getting involved in an interstellar conflict of these proportions? The Delta Quadrant had barely begun to recover from the Borg threat and without Unimatrix Zero’s presence, it would fall apart? But then, what right did they have in cleaning up the Borg mess? Who had appointed them as the Delta Quadrant’s saviors? These were questions that in his warrior days, Korok may have possessed the answers to, but in the present era, they were not easily answerable.

“General Korok?”

The voice of his aide Brish’t broke into his thoughts.

“What is it?”

“News just came in from Earth. The Rockbell has arrived in the System with Seven of Nine aboard.”

Korok was tempted to correct him. Even though she preferred the Borg designation Seven of Nine, she would always be Annika to the people of Unimatrix Zero. But then many of their recruits, including Brish’t, had joined after the fall of the Collective and this he didn’t know.

“Good. I’ll be returning through the wormhole shortly. Maybe now we can finally receive some answers as to why we can’t get the Fusion Cube back online."

***

Location: U.S.S. Paradox
31st Century, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Of all the various devices that the Federation of this era possessed access to, Daniels had a hands down preference for the Temporal Observatory. Built with Krenim technology, the Observatory functioned as a means through which to observe the grand sweep of history and determine how and where a specific event could affect the entire space-time continuum.

For his mission to the NX-01, he had utilized a smaller, portable version of the technology. But aboard a timeship such as the Paradox, he had access to your standard Temporal Cartography chamber and since the conflict had begun, had spent much of his time there. But perhaps now that would be coming to an end.

Their incursion to the Gamma Quadrant of 2379 had apparently been a success. The anomaly of the present era appeared to be in remission, dissipating as quickly as it began. The mission had also sent a message to Neo-Borg elements, warning them that any further intervention in that pivotal era of the Great Accord would not be tolerated.

Of course, whether they actually listened would be another matter, and so they were still on alert. But Daniels’ focus for now was on the Anomaly. It appeared similar to that generated by the Sphere Builders during their incursion four centuries previous. But there were key differences, noticeably in the precise manipulation of space-time, in how the energies were dispersing, almost as if...

…

No, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

***

Location: Paris
Earth, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Though the Andorians were a warrior culture like the Klingons, they tended to be more reserved and cool under pressure, utilizing cold cunning rather than pure passion. This had served Grey’si well in dealing with the many pressures of running the Federation. But even he found his resolve and patience being tried by Admiral Alynna Nechayev.

“Admiral Nechayev, as I’ve said before, your suggestions have been taken under consideration and rejected. I applaud your persistence in this matter, but it’s over.”

“Then you ignore the demands of the Delegation of 75?”

Grey’si sighed. The so-called Delegation of 75 were officially the Councilors now opposed to the prospect of an Alliance with the Republic. Unofficially, the majority of them were simply old political foes of his stirring up the usual trouble, including his old adversary from the Elections of ‘72, Bolian Councilor Min Zife.

“I will accommodate them as I see fit.”

“Meaning you will ignore them.”

“Admiral, let me get to the point. I value the right to freedom of speech, even though I was harassed for it by many hardliners during the war with the Dominion. But your support of this anti-Alliance faction, well, as I see it, it borders on the line of willfully creating sedition in this government.”

“Are you accusing me of treason?!”

“I did not say that. I said simply that you are walking a dangerous line. “

“My duty is to the Federation!”

“And your duty involves the enforcement of Federation and Starfleet policy, policy which has unanimously been approved by your colleagues and your commander-in-chief. Dismissed.”

Nechayev stood there for a long moment, starting at the Andorian president before marching to the door. She stopped just before she reached it, though.

“Permission to speak freely, Mr. President.”

He didn’t want to grant it, but his father had taught him the value about always letting the asshole have the last word.

“Granted.”

She turned and starred at him with such a cold fury that for a moment, Grey‘si thought it was his mother.

“You’re a coward, a little boy so desperate to measure up to your ancestor Shran and his achievements that you’d plunge the entire Federation into another war just to outdo him.”

And with that she stormed out the door.

“And people wonder why she earned the nickname ‘Ice Queen’,” Grey’si said to no one in particular, fantasizing if, were this Andor, how he would kill the Admiral for making such a statement.

***

Nechayev didn’t even bother to acknowledge the presence of her secretary as she entered her office in the Intelligence Division, her mind racing and processing the results of her meeting. She could deny no longer that President Grey’si, Section 31, and the Delegation of 75 were nothing more than incompetent jackasses who claimed to have the best in mind for the Federation, but chose to perform the opposite. And to here, that meant only one thing.

She was truly the Federation’s last hope.

***

Location: The Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe

Given their control over the cosmic energies that made up the universe, the matter of how time flowed in the Continuum had long been a matter of some debate. Indeed, as one of the entities had once stated, ten minutes on the linear plane equaled several years in Q-time. That meant in theory that Q had been tortured by his countryman for many a moon and his haggard, disheveled appearance supported this.

But then again, the Great and All Powerful Q wasn’t exactly in pristine condition himself. He had removed his robes, his tie loosened and his expression just as distant as that of his prisoner. In one hand was a jumbo-sized cocktail, in the other a 1920‘s style cigarette holder. He was attempting to be deep in thought, but the constant droning of Q was interrupting his thoughts and it wasn’t difficult to see why.

“…nobody knows the trouble I‘ve seen. Nobody knows...”

“ENOUGH!”

“That was rather loud, wasn’t it?” asked Q. The GPQ ignored him, pacing the room for several moments before coming to a stop.

"My patience is waning, Q. You have told me nothing of worth throughout any of our sessions.”

“So will you let me go?

The GPQ‘s face contorted into a cold, almost terrifying smile.

“Not when I still have one card to play.”

He snapped his fingers and the ground in back of him suddenly began to move as the worn stones of the dungeon floor shifted to reveal two equal sized rectangular openings. Twin sets of chains appeared from the sealing and snaked down into the openings, the linked pieces of metal clanging as they contacted with some unknown object.

“What are you going to do this time? Unleash the hounds, or the bees, or the hounds with bees in their mouths and when they bark, they you shoot bees at you?”

“Oh no. I have something more…effective than physical torture this time. Observe”

He snapped his fingers again and the chains began to retract, the links straining as they lifted into the dungeon two tables similar to that upon which the GPQ had strapped Q. But it was what was upon these tables that made Q’s blood -- or what passed for it -- run cold, any lingering thoughts of combating his boss with politically incorrect humor vanishing like an object into a black hole.

Strapped upon both tables were his wife and son. The appeared to be unharmed, if nothing more than drugged. As Q starred on in horror, the GPQ circled slowly around them, finally coming to a rest in the center just behind both tables. He positioned himself, waited a moment, and then placed his hands on each of their foreheads. As if they were intangible, the fingers sunk into their heads and then the hands followed to the point where the GPQ’s entire hands were submerged. Satisfied, he now looked back up at Q.

“I would like to share my new proposition with you, Q. You will tell me in the next ten seconds what the Stranger has planned for combating the Merging or I will lobotomize your wife and son as I did the entire Continuum.”

***

Location: Earth Station McKinley
Sector 001, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Once again, the response time of the Federation and its Starfleet amazed Capain Solo. On a Republic ship, it would have taken several minutes for the doctor and his team to arrive or for the injured crewman to be carried to the medical bay. But within ten seconds of sending out the distress call over the comm, he and the fallen Jedi had materialized within the station’s sickbay, where doctors had treated them.

As far as the doctors could tell, their mental synapses had been overloaded and overwhelmed by a surge of energy they could not easily explain. Having seen the impossible, Han could only speculate that it had something to do with the Force.

Not surprisingly, Kyp had been the first to regain consciousness of the quartet. Despite all of the blows they had had over the years, Han still saw Kyp as the boy he had rescued from the spice mines of Kessel and that bond, though tried and tested, still remained. They were just now dicussing what Solo had learned. After they had collapsed. Han had called down to Tokyo, fearful that a similar action had befallen his children and nephew. Yet, they hadn’t felt anything unusual in the Force.

“Hmm,” Kyp replied, mulling over this seeming incongruity, giving Han time to mull himself over his daughter’s decision to accompany a Republic/Federation task-force to the Romulan border -- Jacen had chosen to remain behind with Threepio to watch over Ben. Yes, Wedge and Tycho were part of it, but he just couldn’t help but feel the same sense of reluctance and foreboding that had accompanied Anakin’s own journey with Worf to the Klingon Empire.

“What about Anakin?”

“I’ve been trying to raise the Klingon home world, but they’re comm systems are still in a mess following the attempted assassination of their Chancellor. But if Jacen and Jaina didn’t feel it…”

“What is it, Han?”

“It’s like during the Second Battle of 001. Jacen sensed where the yammosk was even though Danni Quae’s instruments weren’t able to.”

“All I can say is that the Force moves in mysterious ways. If Jacen was able to sense it, then there must have been a reason.”

Han sighed, leaning back in the chair he had pulled up to Kyp’s bed.

“I hope so. I mean, I know I once said the Force was a hokey religion. And almost thirty years of fighting alongside Luke, Leia, you, Corran, and everyone else, I know that it does exist. I just can’t pretend to understand it at times.”

Kyp smiled slightly, a rarity these days given his own losses from the war and his clashes with Luke over the proper role of the Jedi, a clash that had led him to journey through the tunnel in the sky. Then his frown returned as his eyes narrowed

“Do you have a map of the Federation?” he asked suddenly.

“What? No, not on me. Why?”

“Just get me one, now.”

Curious and slightly annoyed at Kyp’s behavior, Han nonetheless complied and within several moments was able to procure a PADD with a map function from one of the sickbay nurses. Kyp didn’t even bother to thank him as he snatched the device from the ex-smuggler’s hands and began tapping at the controls. Han sat back and watched him with both puzzlement and curiosity.

“What’s this all about?

“I’m certain that we were struck down like that for a reason.”

“How?”

“I can’t speak for the others, albeit for obvious reasons, but when I collapsed, I began to…see and sense things. I felt a great disturbance in the Force, almost as if energies and forces both light and dark were congregating and meeting at a specific point.”

Han frowned.

“For what? And where? Here at Earth.”

“No, here,” he said at last, his finger stopping at the edge of the PADD. Han looked down and felt his blood go cold when he saw where Kyp was pointing to on the star chart.

“Please tell you’re kidding. Please tell me you’re just doing this to give him another piece of your mind.

“I‘m not, Han.”

There was not a trace of doubt in his eyes, body language, or voice. Han looked at Kup, then back down at the PADD, desperately hoping that Durron was incorrect about the planet where his finger had stopped.

It was Bajor.

***

To be continued…

***

Author’s Notations

* The Fondor incident occurred in the NJO novel “Agents of Chaos II: Jedi Eclipse”.

* Dr. B’Oraq first appeared in the TNG novel “Diplomatic Implausibility”.

* Ra-Ghoratreii and his species were never named on-screen, only in the novelization of “Star Trek VI” and the novel “Articles of the Federation”.

* The Delegation of 75 is modeled after the Delegation of 2000 as seen in the novelization and deleted scenes of Episode III.

* According to the “A Time to…” book series, Min Zife succeeded Jaresh-Inyo from 2373 to 2378. However, since this story was written before the series began, Grey’si instead succeded Inyo in this story’s timeline.

* The bit about the hounds and the bees is a tribute to one of my favorite lines from “The Simpsons”.

Interesting chapter, and it's great to see BoBWs back.

Loved the Simpson tribute! Quoting Homer Simpson does seem like the kind of stupid thing Q would do in such a situation.

Trogdor wrote:Interesting chapter, and it's great to see BoBWs back.

Loved the Simpson tribute! Quoting Homer Simpson does seem like the kind of stupid thing Q would do in such a situation.

Glad you liked it. Justice League/Nadia will be following shortly within hopefully 30 to 60 minutes.

JME2 wrote:

Trogdor wrote:Interesting chapter, and it's great to see BoBWs back.

Loved the Simpson tribute! Quoting Homer Simpson does seem like the kind of stupid thing Q would do in such a situation.

Glad you liked it. Justice League/Nadia will be following shortly within hopefully 30 to 60 minutes.

Sweet. Well, there goes my plans for going to bed. Oh well, I can sleep in tomorrow.

Very nice. I wonder what Neyachev's up to.

Alright, ladies and gentlemen, you wanted it? You've got it!

Disclaimer: Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures. Stat Wars created by George Lucas and owned by Twentieth Century Fox and Lucasfilm. I own the story and any original characters/species. No copyright infringement is intended.

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Author’s Notes: This chapter contains possible spoilers for the fourth season of ENT and the DS9 re-launch novel "Unity"; read at your own discretion. Other than that, as always, enjoy.

***

Act II, Part XII

“Events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order the continuous thread of revelation.”

- Eudora Welty -

***

Location: U.S.S. Rhode Island
Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

When Harry Kim had announced to his former colleagues that he had accepted a deep-space assignment on the fringes of Federation territory, everyone had looked at him as if he were out of his mind. After all, he had spent seven years trapped in the dark frontier of the Delta Quadrant and now that he had finally returned home, he wanted to get away again?

Harry had felt differently about the matter. Officially, his opinion was that the experience he had gained as Voyager’s operations officer could be put to better use in the frontier of Federation expansion. Unofficially, however, Kim had had trouble adjusting to life in a world that had thought him dead and that had passed by seven years without him. He had been so determined to help get Voyager home that he hadn’t even given thought to what kind of world he would be returning to, from the lingering horrors of the epic War they had raged for two years to the injustice of Admiral Nechayev’s inquisition.

Thus, Harry had accepted a posting of operations officer aboard the Nova-class Rhode Island. The Nova-class had been based off of the original designs for the Defiant-class and meant to act as a replacement for the aging Oberth-class science vessels. However, early production had been delayed both by the cold war with the Dominion and by the apparent loss of one of the first group of vessels, the U.S.S. Equinox -- though Harry and his former shipmates had proven that to be false.

Having rekindled their romance, Libby had followed in suit as a Federation News correspondent covering the Federation’s post-war exploration and expansion. Living on the Rhode Island had taken some getting used to for both of them, but thus far they had made it work.

But despite the fact that this ship was not Voyager, Harry’s ultimate ambition still lay in the center chair and as he had during the final years of the sojourn, he commanded the chair during the third shift. And like the Warhead incident four years previous, Harry now found his commanding officer called to the bridge at this ungodly hour.

Captian Sakura Ichiro of the Rhode Island was somewhat stricter in her command style than Kim‘s previous commander, but was just as good a Captain as Kathryn Janeway. She could be stern and tempered, yet equally soft and understanding. And in the combat situations that the Rhode Island had seen since Harry joined, he had never once seen her so worried or shocked.

Until now.

“Are…these readings accurate, Lieutenant Kim?” she asked at last. Kim nodded, his face pointed in the direction of the bridge‘s view screen. Two days earlier, the Rhode Island had arrived at the borders of the Kel‘Spren Unity, a prosperous and peaceful planetary system that had recently achieved warp drive and which lay several light years from a previously-undiscovered particle fountain.

Given that twelve Starfleet ships had been lost trying to map a single fountain years earlier, Ichiro had ordered that the Rhode Island keep her distance while receptions had occurred, a Class-Four Probe had been deployed to further study and map the phenomena. Thus, everything had been going well until a frantic call from the surface of Kel‘Spren Prime had led Kim to wake his master and commander, unable

Harry felt a sense of Déjà vu, memories of the data sent back by the Voyager’s probe that had entered Borg space during their third year returning to him. But instead of a Borg cube filling the main view screen, there was instead empty space where the Kel‘Spren Particle Fountain should be.

“Yes, Captain. It’s gone and there‘s no sign that it ever existed.”

***

Location: U.S.S. Paradox
30th Century, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Over six centuries into the future, Daniels was struggling to not collapse on the holographic panels of the Paradox’s Temporal Observatory, the weight of the implications he had learned threatening to overpower him. He had used the computer to call up various spatial and temporal phenomena. The most recent was the Kel‘Spren Particle Fountain. In the annals of the Temporal Atlas, this phenomea would continue on until at least 3567 in the old Earth Calendar.

Yet, now it had vanished as if it had never existed.

And it wasn’t simply this particle fountain, oh no. He had triple-checked within moments dozens of similar phenomena and occurrences all across the cosmos -- all gone. The anomaly that had been spreading out from the vicinity of Earth was now appearing elsewhere both across and outside the galaxy in the place of these phenomena and was replicating quickly.

Were a simple freighter captain or average Joe of years past to see this, they would simply say good riddance to the phenomena that impeded space travel and made their lives difficult. But if they were in the know and had expanded their understanding of the universe, then they would know that something was very, very wrong. These phenomena were more than just pretty light shows and radioactive furnaces. They were a representation of the very energies that served as creation’s lifeblood. But they were being merged and canceled out.

The universe was dying.

But this wasn’t simple temporal or spatial manipulation; the computer confirmed that the temporal wave front from the Kel‘Spren Nova was moving into the future from 2379, not from millennia past. No, this was manipulation on a scale far grander than any one of the Temporal Cold War parties were capable of.

This was manipulation on the level of a god.

Before Daniels could pursue this line of thought any further, klaxons began blaring throughout the timeship. He frowned and tapped the holographic panel, opening a direct real-time feed to the ship‘s AI and the bridge.

“Report!”

“Alert Level Omega. Multiple Temporal Incursions in progress!"

***

Location: Suliban Helix
October 2151, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“Where is Klag?”

“The humans have him.”

“Did you lose anyone?”

“Two of my men were killed. One of them was…a friend. Can you prevent it?”

The Commander sometimes wondered why in the hell he had chosen this era of all eras to influence from the confines of the Temporal. Yes, this was the era that had seen the launch of Earth’s first warp-based exploration program, the outbreak of the Romulan Wars, and of course, the founding of all that had done him wrong, the United Federation of Planets.

If there was any better era in which to strike a blow at his foe, it was this one. No, it was simply that the lackeys of this era were just as incompetent as many of the men he led, men who would even be born for over seven centuries. Still, one worked with the tools that he/she/it was provided with, no matter how skilled or unskilled they were.

“Our agreement doesn't provide for correcting mistakes. Recover the -- .”

***
Location: New York City
1944, Earth, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“Take them away.”

Commander Vosk tugged on his Nazi military tunic as his guards led the two suspected Temporal agents to a secure holding area. The escape of the original agent had complicated things and he needed any intelligence that could be obtained. Too much had been lost, too much had been scarified by the Na'kuhl Commander and his team for them to fail now. Another day or two and the Temporal Conduit would be online and the future would once again be theirs.

“Sir?”

The voice of one of the project supervisors, Brish, cut through Vosk’s negative amusing on the Temporal Accords.

“Team 7 reports that the fluctuations in the secondary power grid have been contained and are ready to begin the next test.:

“Excellent. Prepare to initiate the --”

***

Location: Xindi Expanse
2152, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Dolim leaned forward, his claws clenched tightly to the point that they had cut through his leathery hide. There was a haunted look in his eyes that combined rage and fear.

“What must we do to prevent their heinous act?!”

The Presage almost felt pity for the Xindi. The humanoid Degra, the aboreal Jannar, the reptilian Dolim -- they were all so pathetically easy to manipulate. These primitives would gladly further their goals and by doing so, would pave the road to a world where the Battle of Procyon V would never be fought, a world where the Sphere Builders had completed their galactic conquest.

“Then hear me thus. Your future will be spared with this one act: Destroy the world called -- “

***

Location: U.S.S. Paradox
30th Century, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“My God,” Daniels whispered as lights continued to wink out across the holographic board. As one of the leading ships in the Temporal Cold War, the Paradox monitored all of the leading factions of the Temporal Cold War -- or at the very least, the ones that had been identified. With the nature of time travel and temporal manipulation, the various factions were appearing and vanishing faster than DTI could keep track of.

And yet, a more concrete picture than ever had begun to emerge as the Temporal Communications Network began to display incoming reports from DTI agents and allies. And the image that was forming was not looking good at all. Sillik’s benefactors, the Sphere Builders, the Na'kuhl -- all were participants in the conflict that spanned the length and breadth of time itself, all of whom were, like the Kel‘Spren Nova, vanishing as if they had never existed .

“Look’s like the war finally heated up, just not in the way that people were expecting,” came the voice of the Operator. Daniels nodded solemnly as he glanced at the decreasing number of holographic markings and notations, a distressing number of them DTI. Starfleet’s TCN was normally able to alert its operatives and ships to to a fair number of impending changes or temporal fluctuations; the agents could then remove themselves from the main time stream and remain unaffected until the danger had passed.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t perfect and only the agents who had been quick on their feet or had already been outside the main time stream, like the Paradox, had survived this attack or attacks. Daniels was still waiting confirmation of that one.

“So, we’re absolutely certain that this is not the result of a single incursion?”

“No. If it was, we would be recording a specific set of energy signatures and fluctuations. This is a massive, coordinated attack undertaken by a single faction.”

“Hmm. Any luck identifying the energy signature used to launch these incursions?”

“I’m --”

The Operator paused, his expression frozen in mid-speech. For a moment, Daniels wondered if the crucial information he sought had been glimpsed and this was responsible for his silence. The Operators were the end result of the EMH programs centuries earlier and its interpersonal subroutines and AI was far greater than anything to date. The Operator’s next words, however, proved Daniels wrong.

“Warning! Error! Error!”

The Operator’s avatar flickered and winked out. As they did, new klaxons added to the cacophony of the temporal incursion alerts. Systems monitors began flickering and the center of operations for the Paradox erupted into chaos.

“Report!”

“Something is attempting to hack into the system, Commander. They‘ve breached the firewalls and are moving into all relevant systems.”

How could this happen? The Paradox was equipped with the greatest anti-incursion technology ever created -- at least in this era. Could this be an incursion from farther down the timeline? And if so, how had they bypassed the Operator?

“Lock out the main computer, quickly!”

“I’m trying, sir, but --”

It was at that moment that the sound of their doom was heard, the sound that anyone who utilized technology dreaded: the ominous sound of a ship’s power core shutting down. Several things happened as once. As the ship’s power systems went offline, the bridge’s consoles and holographic emitters all exploded simultaneously. As they did, the sparkle and chiming of a transporter beam filled the air as Daniels spun around --

-- only to feel something crushing his chest, a fiery and burning sensation that spread outwards across his body. As the remainder of the crew fell to their attackers, Daniels watched as a new form materialize on the burning deck plates, surveying the damage and destruction inflicted upon the timeship‘s bridge by the boarding party. And thought he was beginning to lose focus in his eyes, Daniels retained enough lucidity to recognize the figure.

It was her.

And with her appearance on his bridge, many of the pieces began to fall into place as Daniels struggled to maintain what precious little consciousness he still retained.

“Whatever…you are trying, it…will not…work…”

She kneeled beside him and offered him a cold, almost sad smile.

“Commander Daniels, didn’t anyone ever tell you that resistance is futile?”

That smug, cold expression upon her face was the last thing that Daniels saw as the darkness finally claimed the DTI agent.

***

Location: Kendra Province
Bajor, Milky Way Galaxy

Kasidy Yates had first come to Bajor shortly before the end of the Occupation. Until then, the Cardassian’s harassment of even neutral freighters had made trade through the systems controlled by the Union difficult. But the Cardassian withdrawal and the subsequent discovery of the wormhole had changed everything, but Kasidy had only felt it to be in the realm of shipping and trading. She could never have imagined that the events of 2339 would change her life forever.

And things certainly had changed ten years later. True, she was still the master and commander of the Xhosa, but she spent much of her time now in the Kendra Porvince, in the 12 hecapates of land that her husband had purchased before his…disappearance. The nature of his disappearance had been debated by Starfleet officials, Vedeks, cultists, and others continuously over the last four years. Even Kasidy wasn’t sure what to make of what exactly had happened in the Fire Caves. Yet, she was confident of one thing.

The Emissary, her husband, would return.

Until he did, however, she would continue to manage the home that he had wanted to build on Bajor, alongside her children. The two of them were quite a pair, Jake playing with young Rebecca when he wasn‘t penning articles or freelance stories. Having grown up with a brother, Kasidy knew quite well just how inseparable siblings could be at times. Yet, she knew only one thing could possibly tear them apart.

“Alright, who wants first shot at the jambalaya?”

“Me first,” yelled little Rebecca, clamoring to reach the table first and devour the Creole dish. Just as the young child reached it, there came a rasp at the door. Jake and Kasidy glanced at each other.

“You expecting anyone?”

“Nope. You?”

“Me neither.”

“I’ll get it!” cried Rebeca who abandoned her plate of mouth-watering jambalaya as quickly as she had claimed it Jake smiled and shook his head..

“She’s an impulsive little thing, isn’t she?”

“She gets it from your side of the family,” Kasidy retorted in jest. Unlike Jake and Kasidy, she had no problem with going to greet strangers and guests. Yates supposed it could be attributed to the isolation of the land that her husband had purchased. There weren’t many children in this neck of the Kendra Province and Kasidy knew she needed to put more effort into finding more individuals of Rebecca’s age for her to play with.

Still, Kasidy was concerned as she raised herself from the table and approached the front door of the Sisko residence. While the Vedek Assembly’s official position was that the Emissary’s family be left in peace following the supposed battle in the Fire Caves, that hadn’t stopped the occasional pilgrim from passing through.

Yet, the man before her did not appear to be such a pilgrim. He was dressed in an unusual combination of brown robes and a black jumpsuit. Attached to his belt was a cylindrical device, the likes of which Kasidy had never seen before. His face lacked the nasal ridges of a Bajoran and he seemed to be thus human, in his mid-forties to Kasidy’s eyes.

“Mrs. Sisko, I presume?”

She nodded.

“Yes. May I help you?”

“My name is Luke Skywalker.”

***

Three kilometers away, Colonel Jorel Zolda lowered his viewfinder and began tapping a series of commands into her comm unit. His system was custome made, designed to be rerouted through a dozen different comm systems on the planet and in theory, were untraceable. Call him paranoid, but it was paranoia that had saved him from both the Cardassian military during the Ocupation and when the Circle’s coup had failed.

“Black Knight to Black Bishop, come in.”

One might think it odd that a Bajoran would utilize the names of Terran game pieces, but Jorel was quite familiar with the game. He had been born shortly before the Occupation had begun and his parents had died just before he had barely reached adolescence. Wandering, he had briefly fallen in with the Resistance, but soon came to conclusion that they would never be able to defeat them by thinking solely like Bajorans and with the pitiful resources they had access to.

So, he had smuggled himself off-world and had spent the next ten years roaming the cosmos, learning tricks of the trade from mercenaries and warriors to thieves and smugglers. At one point, he had found himself in the employ of Colonel Dimitri Zukosky, a disillusioned ex-Federation marine and chess aficionado who had taught him the art of strategy among other things. Thus, while he disliked and distrusted the Federation’s presence in the Bajoran system, he still enjoyed the game.

“Report.”

“The Pawn has arrived at the anticipated location.”

“Any indication that you have been detected?”

“None. The psionic buffers are in place and working like a charm. And the security detachment’s systems and weapons have been disabled. Would you like me to proceed?”

Those that were involved in their movement would find it odd that a Colonel would be asking a monk for permission to launch an operation like this. However, Jorel knew quite well what the stakes were and of the awesome powers and energies that would be unleashed if all went according to plan.”

“Wait until I arrive. If these tales are true, then against a Jedi we will require more than just phasers and photon grenades. We will need something more…potent.”

Jorel sighed. While they need this monk on their side -- more so for his expertise in the occult than his influence in the Vedek Assembly, a task they both left to Vedek Elreth -- he was still so damm annoying. But he too had seen the Federation’s data files on this New Jedi Order and knew that against the de facto Grand Master of that Order, they would need any and all tools at their disposal.

“Understood. Black Knight out.”

***

Location: Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe

A day was but a linear concept, another primitive measurement of the flow of time. In the realm of the Q continuum, it had no real meaning. With the awesome powers at their disposal, the Q could go anywhere, anytime and do practically anything and everything. Well almost anything. Had he not been engaged in attempting to strain against the bonds holding his form in place, Q would have directed all of his power and strength at blowing the head off his treacherous leader.

“Ten, nine, eight…

The GPQ’s hands were glowing with energy as they rested atop his unconscious family’s heads. With a single thought, he would tear their minds asunder and lobotomize them as he had done to his brethren in the Continuum. Their lives would be spared, however, if Q were to reveal once and for all what it was that the Stranger had discussed during the gathering of the Quintessence.

“…seven, six, five…”

For not the first time in his life, the self-proclaimed Master of the one-liner had no witty comeback or retort at his command. And he was most certainly not going to tell the GPQ what the Stranger had told him -- especially when one considered that it was all riddles that Q suspected hinted All he had was his rage and fear, all being channeled into that single act, the one action that

“…four, three, two…”

The Q were capable of many things, but Q knew in those last two seconds that even he could not break the bonds forged by the Great and All Powerful Q. His powers were restrained, his bonds created by the will of a god. In two seconds, he and the GPQ would be the only fully functioning members of the grand evolutionary achievement.

And if such an achievement were to reach this stage, did it truly deserve to survive?

“…O--”

The GPQ stopped in mid-sentence, the final number in his sequence of death stalled on his tounge . A look of confusion formed upon his chiseled features. Then, without warning, he moaned and his eyes rolled back into his head. The Q’s form fell backwards, releasing his grip on the Lady Q and q. As he collapsed in a heap on the dungeon floor, the shackles and bonds holding both Q and his family loosened and became unlocked.

The instant he was on his feet, Q rushed to his family, felling for what would pass for a pulse in a Q. Though unconscious, they were otherwise unharmed and they would come around shortly. But what had happened to the Stranger? Had Q somehow managed to direct even a tiny arrow of his anger and rage at the Great and All Powerful Q? Had his godly powers not deserted him in his greatest hour of need?

“When I was very young, my father once told me that if you put your mind to it, you could accomplish anything,” came a voice from the entrance to the GPQ’s sadistic playground. Q looked up as the figure responsible for these words came into the light.

“I’ve since learned that such an act can be accomplished, but sometimes only with a little outside help.”

Q didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and it wasn’t just because of the fact that the GPQ was now apparently down for the count or that his family had been spared the fate of their brethren. His being was a cauldron of swirling emotions and disbelief as he looked upon the face of his savior, a face he knew like the back of his hand.

“Crusher? Wesley ‘Boy Wonder’ Crusher?!”

***

Location: Grand Convocation Chamber
Coruscant, That Galaxy Far, Far Away

Captain Picard had first visited the Federation Council chambers in his youth, shortly before his first year at the Academy had begun. With the exception of critical security hearings and meetings, all sessions were open to the public and they were encouraged to see their government in action. Thus, having been accepted to the Academy, he wanted to observe up close and personally the actions of the species whose policies and decisions he, should he manage to graduate, would enforce as a Starfleet officer.

In more recent times, he had returned to the Council building for less innocent reasons, most notably for his testimony related to the Briar Patch incident. And despite the nature of that visit and his still lingering resentment and anger over the actions of certain Councilors, that sense of wonder and awe at the symbolism and importance of the chambers.

But even Picard had to admit that the Federation Council antechamber couldn’t hold a candle to the Galactice Senate of the New Republic. It didn’t matter to Picard that this wasn’t the original antechamber utilized by the distinguished body (the original Senate Hall had been razed and destroyed by the escape of the Super Star Destroyer Lusankya and the reborn Emperor and Independence Hall had followed suit thanks to Kueller). It was still damm impressive work, from both an architectural and symbolic point of view and even Vaughn, Troi, and Data had agreed with the Captain on that.

Yet, the impressiveness of what the Republic had achieved and fought for in their quest for galactic unity belied the same underling corruption and decay that had doomed its predecessor to the machinations of individuals like Cos Palpatine. If people liked him and Leia Organa served as a lightning rod for order and unity, those in favor of chaos and disharmony marched behind Senator Viqi Shesh of Kuat. As both Leia and Troi had predicted, the first day of negotiations had not been made easy by Shesh and this second day was proving no different.

“…I tell you again, the free people of the Alpha Quadrant are prepared to ally alongside the New Republic’s banner,” he said from the central podium of the Senate. The Central Podium housed the members of the Ruling Council, but also served as the speaking point for visiting dignities and Senators who chose not to engage the holographic communications systems.

“Or so you claim,” Shesh retorted in what could pass as a mocking tone. “But how can you be trusted?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Do not act so condescending, Captain Picard. Again, I state the obvious. You have begun an unprecedented military buildup in a sovereign system.

“And again,” came the angry voice of Queen Quital from alongside Picard, “the Naboo people have permitted the Federation and Unimatrix Zero to build their Transwarp Hub.”

“Yet, where is the formal writing or submission from your planet’s ruling council? After all, your position is one of ceremonial importance, is it not? They are ultimately the movers and shakers of your government. But then, you world seems to possess a talent for serving as pawns for others.”

Quital’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the thinly-veiled reference to Palpatine’s actions half a century previous. Before she could voice a fiery response, Shesh continued on.

“And speaking of people, Captain, claim to represent the free people of the Milky Way. But if so, where are representatives of these other governments? Where are ambassadors from Unimatrix Zero, or the Klingon and Romulan Empires, or the First Federation, the Gorn Hegenomy or dozens of other culture or governments of your galaxy? Where are they

“Senator Shesh --”

“No, the simple fact of the matter is that despite the Federation’s claims, you have no reason to include your cultures in these proceedings. From the very beginning, you have perceived what you believe is our weakness in the face of the Yuuzhan Vong onslaught and you seek to use if for your own ends. In short, the Federation seeks to conquer the New Republic.”

There was a long silence, marked only by the murmuring and shocked gasps of Senators.

“You can’t possibly be serious with such an accusation, Senator Shesh,” Picard finally replied, the Captain in disbelief that even Shesh would play a card as despicable as this one.

“Oh, but I am.”

Shesh turned to face and address the vast sea of Senators, dignitaries, and aides.

“I submit evidence to this distinguished body that the Federation has lied to you and has been attempting to infiltrate our Alpha Quadrant forces for their own, sinister purposes. If I may, Deputy-Chief?”

The Quarren nodded -- Borsk Fey’lya, despite his show of strength and will, had been unable to attend the second day and thus Deputy Chief of State Pwoe now presided over the distinguished body. Shesh smiled triumphantly.

The lights of the Grand Convocation chamber dimmed as a dozen holoprojectors flared to life, displaying a recording for all eyes of the Senate and the galaxy. The scene showed what appeared to be a New Republic warship’s flight deck. The main focus of this recording was of a man bending over the deck plates, a Federation tricorder in one hand and a communicator in another. Yet, the detail of his face remained concealed by the low-level lighting and shadows. Whoever had operated this holocam appeared to realize this as the image now became brighter, focusing in closer --

-- and Picard felt his knees go weak as the figure now became fully revealed to the audience. He willed every iota of his strength and willpower to not collapse to the floor of the Central Podium or to display any sign of recognition at the sight of the displayed figure, the man whom the Captain believed to be the true culprit behind the bombing of the Federation Council.

It was Cortin Zweller.

***
To be continued…

***

Author’s Notations
* Thought I’d forgotten about Cortin Zweller being caught on Candid Camera, didn’t you? And for those that have wondered where the Travelers were in this whole mess, the first part of your answer has now revealed itself, hasn’t it?

* The Rhode Island first appeared in the alternate future of the VGR finale, “Endgame”. Harry’s posting on the vessel was established in the second chapter of Act I.

* Sakura Ichiro’s name is a tribute to my two favorite characters from the video-game/anime “Sakura Taisen”.

* The identity and back story of the Suliban’s temporal benefactor was never revealed (in yet another of TPB‘s more controversial decisions). I am simply referring to him as ‘The Commander’ for the sake of this fanfic).

* The name and gender of Kasidy’s child was revealed in the re-launch novel “Unity” (in one of the earlier chapters, however, I stated that the second child was a son; that chapter was written prior to the release of “Unity” and will be correct in later updates).

Also, I wanted to post the next experimentation in the continually evolving BOBW sig. Thoughts?

Nice Sig.. but Picard looks a bit too crinkly, I'm loving the UFP/NR emblem though.

Oh is that A new chapter as well?

*toddles off to read*

EDIT: *toddles back*

Very nice. I wonder if psi-inhobtors really will impede Skywalker.

Wow, time travel and time deletion. Lots of it.

And I second CW's opinion. Picard does look too crinkly.

I liked the chapter, mostly. I really hate it when an author cuts off the story right in the middle.

I like the Sig!



Any more Fett?

Kartr_Kana wrote:I liked the chapter, mostly. I really hate it when an author cuts off the story right in the middle.

Ah, the ol' hook, line, and sinker; I love it...

Any more Fett

That will be coming back into play in a chapter or two.

No, it's not another update; Japanese oral exam will prevent that this weekend. No, I forgot to post two other, earlier variants to the earlier sig:

This picture of Picard still looks a little odd, but it's much better than the previous one. Luke should still be on the right, though, since he's looking leftward. Otherwise, I like 'em. The blue one more than the red.

I concur with the right honurable Trogdor. If by 'odd' he means@ Looks like he bruised all over.

Well, gentlemen, it's my 5,000th post, and so I've decided to celebrate it by posting a new chapter!




***




Disclaimer: Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures. Stat Wars created by George Lucas and owned by Twentieth Century Fox and Lucasfilm. I own the story and any original characters/species. No copyright infringement is intended.

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Author’s Notes: It’s a shorter chapter than usual, I know, but this can be blamed on the pacing of Act II and what will be coming as this portion of the story draws to a close. Thus, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless as you have the previous chapters.

***

Act II, Part XIII

“All men can see these tactics whereby I conquer, but what none can see is the strategy out of which victory is evolved. “

- Sun Tzu -

***

Location: U.S.S. Enterprise-E
Earth Station McKinley, Alpha Quadrant, Milky WayGalaxy

“Mind if I join you?”

Geordi LaForge’s view went from his bowl of clam chowder and the spectacular view of Earth Station McKinley to the smiling, yet tired face of Beverley Crusher, a plate of assorted greens in her hands.

“Are those Doctor’s orders?”

Both of them chuckled as she sat down. As it had been when Han Solo had joined him and Riker several days previous, Ten-Forward was mostly deserted, a handful of other patrons and off-duty crewmembers trying to enjoy a few spare moments.

“How’s the refit going?”

“Slow, even with the repaired damage from the attack on Sector 001. I can only imagine what Will’s experiencing on the Titan; they barely finished their trial runs before the order came for them to be deployed.”

“Do we know where exactly?”

“No; we can thank the bureaucracy for that. I’ve got a few ideas, though.”

“I’m still surprised that you didn’t join him.”

Geordi sighed for a moment as he looked down at his bowl of chowder. It had been no secret that he had been among Riker’s candidates for XO of the new Luna-class vessel, but he had turned it down.

“It’s like I told him before, I certainly can’t leave the Enterprise, especially in a state like this.”

“Words of Captain Scott?”

“A bit of his philosophy on life, yes. And yet…”

“You feel like you’re betraying him.”

“You spend too much time with Deanna, you know that.”

Beverley smiled.

“You’re not betraying him, Geordi. You’re working where you’re comfortable and where you feel you can accomplish the most. That’s why I’ve chose to return to Starfleet Medical. I can accomplish far more there than on the frontier. It‘s sad to leave and part of me feels like I‘m betraying the Captain, but it‘s what I feel is right.”

“Hmm. It’s just, well, after fifteen years, we‘re the closest thing any of us have to a family. And with this new war, I’m just afraid that the family’s going to be driven even more apart.”

***

“Millennium Falcon, you are clear for departure.”

“Is everybody secure back there?”

“Yes!”

“Now, you’re absolutely sure it‘s Bajor?”

“For the hundredth time, Han, yes,” replied Kyp Durron as he strapped himself into the co-pilot seat of the Falcon. It had been years since he had last been in here, shortly after their escape from Kessel and the terrors of the Maw Installation, but he remembered the basics of the startup sequence -- as well as Han‘s temper.

Shortly after Kyp’s revelation, Han had tried to contact both Luke and Mara on Bajor, but without any luck. Thus, Han, Kyp, and the Jedi who Kyp had brought with him through the Terran-Nubian wormhole were saddling up for a road-trip across the stars.

“Kid, it’s not that I doubt your skills in the Force, but, with all due seriousness --”

“Look, just because I argue with Master Skywalker and take a different stance on the issues of the Jedi Order, that doesn’t meant that I want to see him die.”

“You don’t even know he’s going to die!” Han snapped.

“Han, I know that. I’m merely quoting the record and past history we have whenever we encounter the Dark Side.”

“Are you including yourself in that equation?” Han asked, making reference to Kyp’s brief tutelage and apprenticeship under the long-dead Sith Lord Exar Kun during his firsr year at the praxeum. Kyp’s eyes narrowed at this comment, causing Kyp to sigh..

“Kyp, I’m sorry. I lost my best friend and my family’s now spread across everywhere in this galaxy, from here to the Klingon Empire and back again. I’m sure as hell not letting anything happen to anyone else in this family.”

***

Nechayev frowned as the transponder marker of the Millennium Falcon vanished from the planetary tracking network, indicating that the freighter had jumped to lightspeed. With the departure of both this group and the Jedi aboard the Titan task force several days earlier, there were now only a handful of Force-users still within reach in the Sol Sector.

But they would be more than enough.

***

Location: Colebi’k System
Gamma Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

The Defiant’s red alert klaxons blazed like the coals of a raging inferno as the bridge doors swooshed open, permitting Chakotay entrance to the command center of the mighty ‘escort frigate’.

“Report!”

“Sensors just detected massive energy surges, each with a transwarp signature. Apertures are opening up all over the system,” yelled Ensign Shar from the sensor station.

“How many?”

“At last count, thirty-seven.”

Chakotay placed his hand on the back of Shar’s chair and leaned forward so as to better view the sensor display. Thirty-seven red dots were flashing across the system map and more were appearing by the moment.

“Open a channel to Odo and Axum.”

“Done, sir.”

The central view screen flashed to life and divided into two separate, real-time communiqués. The tired, worn faces of both the Founder and Unimatrix Zero’s de facto leader.

“It appears the moment is finally upon us, gentlemen,” Chakotay said.”

“That it is,” Axum responded. “We’ll be the first to intercept the incoming waves. We’ll hold them while the Jem’Hadar get into position. Axum out.”

Axum’s image winked out, leaving only Odo.

“Commander, before we launch, I want to thank you once again for being here. There are many in both the Dominion and the Link who do not trust the Federation or Starfleet. Your presence and role here will not be forgotten."

“I don’t intend for us to be made a martyr just yet,” replied Chakotay. “Good luck, Constable.”

“Hmm. To us all.”

As the transmission ended, Chakotay turned to face the bridge crew.

“I meant what I said to Constable Odo. We are not going to be made martyrs here today. Load all torpedoes bays, ready phaser cannons. We‘ve got a job to do and we are going to do it.”

“Aye Captain!”

***

On the bridge of the Diamond, orders were issued and weapons charged. But Axum continued to stare at the sensor display, he felt unnerved. Something about this was all wrong. How he could not explain; it was simply a splinter in his mind, some dark hint or reminder from his days as a Borg drone.

He knew that the rouge elements of Unimatrix Zero were almost zealous in their pursuit of the Gamma Quadrant’s leading power, but this many transwarp conduits and ships seemed…excessive, even for them. Again, something was not right, but what he could not decipher...

Yet, he pushed it aside; they had a job to do and he was not going to let men and women he had once called friends and comrades-in-arm from ruining the future he wanted to leave for this galaxy.

***

Location: Runabout Rio Grande
En route to Cardassia Prime

The Rio Grande was unique among the three runabouts assigned to Deep Space Nine in that it was the only remaining ship of the complement off-loaded by the Enterprise-D nearly a decade previous. As a result, she was considered by the staff and crew of the former mining station to be the most lucky of the station’s runabouts.

Mara Jade wished that she could agree with that.

“Why in the hell is it that the damm farm boy gets the vacation and I end up playing the mechanic?” Mara Jade grumbled from beneath the primary console of the Rio Grande’s command deck. Artoo squealed a response and Mara, though she could not fully understand Artoo’s Droidspeak, had a general idea of what he was saying.

“Say that again the next time you want an oil bath.”

Artoo warbled again, this series of beeps Mara knew to be the equivalent of the astromech’s laugh.

“I wasn’t kidding, you know that.”

Yet despite this, she allowed herself a small smile. Artoo had lived and served with the Skywalker family from the time of Yavin and he had become just as much a part of that family as her or even now Ben.

Yet the thought of her infant son produced a wave of sadness in the wife of the Jedi Order’s Grand Master. She was separated from her husband, her infant son, and the rest of her family and all in the name of locating the key to averting a possible apocalypse.

The things mothers do for their children.

Now, that would be good and all if not for the fact that the Rio Grande’s operating systems had gone on the fritz sometime after leaving Bajor and while it was primitive in certain areas and advanced in others, Mara still wasn’t fully certain of the thinking behind Federation technology.

The latest pinging caused her to wonder what set of wires she shouldn’t have crossed this time -- and if she could blame it on Artoo. It took her a moment to realize that, contrary to her thoughts, it was in fact the sensor and communications systems. Apparently, a vessel was approaching the disabled runabout. The Sensors were identifying it as the Trager and it took Mara another moment to realize that they were being hailed, audio only.

“This is Gul Macet of the Cardassian warship Trager. May we be of assistance?”

***

Location: Kamino System
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

Contrary to the various myths and legends that had developed over the years, Boba Fett did sleep, just not in the perceived ‘normal’ way. His father had taught him at an early age various meditative techniques meant to sharpen the mind and body, yet keeping both alert at a moment’s notice. The exercises had effective to the point where not only had they been incorporated into the Clonetrooper training program, but even five decades later, Boba still used them.

And served them well they had, but even they could only do so much. It didn’t matter that a man of his exploits and fame was still in good shape at his age. More and more, he was beginning to feel aches and pains resulting in moves that would have had no affect on him ten or twenty years earlier.

It was times like this that his mind drifted towards the thought of retirement. Money was not a problem; the sums that both he and his father had collected from practically everyone imaginable across their respective careers, from Lord Tyrannus to Jabba the Hutt, had resulted in coffers and accounts that were far from depleted. He could easily retire -- if the Vong left any worlds intact, of course.

Fett had been undertaking a mission on Jablim when the invasion had begun. Despite the call to arms still spreading out across all star systems, Fett felt the same way about aiding the galactic governments as he did about retiring. The life of a Bounty hunter was the only life he knew. And it was the life he would continue to perform until the day he died.

The familiar ping of the Slave IV’s nav computer brought him our of his meditative state. His destination was mere moments way. With gentle ease, Fett pulled back on the hyperspace throttle, the blue and white lines of hyperspace reverting to the black vacuum of space --

-- and the unfamiliar presence of the forward bow of an Imperial-class Star Destroyer. Cursing and reacting with reflexes honed over decades of experience, Fett quickly jerked down hard on the main flights controls as the Slave IV barely missed becoming nothing more than a bug on a transparisteel viewing port.

The Slave IV continued to propel itself forward for several more moments before Fett brought her to a stop and engaged the maneuvering thrusters, bringing the craft around to gain a better look at what was probably the first Imperial presence in the system in decades as far as Fett knew.

Shortly into the Clone Wars, the Confederacy had hit Kamino hard and why they hadn’t destroyed the planet, the planet’s facilities incurred enough damage to force the cloning to be out-sourced to other worlds. After the final battles at Coruscant, Uptapau, and Mustafar, Palpatine had known that he could not continue to rely solely on clones to form the basic cogs of his war machine.

Thus, recruitment centers like Cardia had been set up while cloning centers like Kamino had been shut down. Why the Emperor hadn’t just blasted the planet to slag remained a bit of a mystery both to Fett and the Cloner‘s Council. He had a few theories, but rarely gave them much thought. The era of Emperor Cos Palpatine I was long over and there were some things that were probably best left unsolved.

The presence of this Star Destroyer, however, was not one of them.

Satisfied that he was at a safe distance, Fett activated the Slave IV’s highly advanced -- and highly illegal -- sensor suite, the system recording and gathering as much data about this battle and its participants as possible. In his line of work, information was just as valuable as any weapon in your arsenal, a fact that had saved his life -- and career -- on more than one occasion.

The Star Destroyer he was more than familiar with. It was the presence of this alien ship that intrigued him. Fett had seen many ship types in his travels and hunts from one end of the galaxy to the other, but he had never seen anything like this. It was very much a powerful bird of prey, an apt metaphor considering the returns he was getting on the weapons systems. True, he had seen heavy weapons emplacements in greater amounts, such as aboard the Executor, but he was more than impressed.

Yet, that didn’t mean that the Star Destroyer was unscathed. She clearly had taken damage, with multiple hull breaches and scorch marks across her bow. The familiar, distinct TIE-class fighters, the successors to the Clone Wars-era Eta-2 Actis-class interceptor and V-Wing starfighter, soared in the space between both ships, targeting fighters as alien as the craft, but few remained of either craft. Neither were taking any notice of the Slave IV.

While a single shot or two was exchanged every now and then, it was clear that the alien ship was dead in the water. The hull rippled with crackles of blue energy, a friendly leftover courtesy of an ion cannon bank. Various assault shuttles were nestled on the hull, the craft specialized for cutting into an enemy ship. Fett could only wonder what the situation inside was like.

Actually, the famed bounty hunter could do more than simply wonder. Another few adjustments to his comm system and communications exchanges were soon flooding through his Mandalorian helmet. Unfortunately, be if battle damage or simply the ingenuity of the Imperial engineers at Yaga Minor, but the transmissions were not exactly of best quality.

“…have seized control of the...damage not too severe…slicers put her at your command…

“…excellent work Teke…prepare to jump to coordinates…486...when ready.”

“…transwarp…faster if…followed.

“…ledged. Asg…out”

Ten minutes later, both ships vanished in two separate, brilliant flashes of light, roughly around the same time that the pitiful excuse that served as the Kaminoan Defense Force finally made it to Fett’s position, in addition to another alien-like ship. To Fett’s trained eye, it appeared to be similar to a dropship. Before he could ponder the matter further, his communications system began to ping again and within moments, a visual channel was opened to reveal a familiar face.

“Minister Le.”

“Boba. You appear to have returned home at an…awkward time.”

***

Location: Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe

“Crusher? Wesley ‘Wonder boy’ Crusher?!”

Q stared in shock, dumbfounded at the appearance of the boy prodigy who had served aboard the Enterprise-D, then flunked out of Starfleet Academy and drifted before becoming the protégée of the Travelers.

“Good to see you too, Q.”

Q waited for several moments, desperately hoping now that this had all been a very bad dream, that the universe was not coming to an end, that his boss hadn’t become a few shuttles short of a docking port, etc. After all, it was one thing for a literal god to need rescuing and quite another if the rescuer in question was an infuriating, goody little two shoes -- or at least had been. Either way, Q felt like dying of embarrassment on the spot.

And speaking of dying…

“Please tell me you killed that bastard,” Q finally said, looking down at the form of the GPQ. He had clearly been only knocked out cold, his breathing subdued.

Wesley shook his head.

“I may be a Representative of the Travelers, but I do not possess the power to fully extinguish the flame of one such as the Great and All Powerful Q.”

“Great; not only does he now have godlike powers, but the kid’s a philosopher too.,” Q grumbled. “Well then, let me get the rice paper and the dagger and do the right thing.”

“I wouldn‘t recommend that,” came a voice from the corridor. Q and Wesley turned to see the Stranger unfold from the black shadows, still cloaked in his robes. Q looked at the Stranger, then glared at Crusher.

“Are my powers, abilities, and good looks of so little value that you free him first?!”

“I actually instructed him to free your first before me,” the Stranger stated. “My own release came at the hands of Mr. Crusher’s cavalry,” he continued, gesturing to two other hooded and cloaked figures that had materialized from the shadows.

“The boy and his mother need assistance.”

Q squinted his eyes, trying to discern their identities as they helped his wife and son to their feet, but was unsuccessful.

“Who are Heckle and Jeckle over there?”

“Like so many of your questions, your answer will come shortly.”

“Well can you at least tell how in the hell Wonder Boy here knew to mount a rescue operation?!”

“If I was not certain that we were being watched, I would."

“Will you cut it with the -- wait, what do you mean we’re being watched?”

The Stranger gestured to the fallen form of the GPQ. Q just starred at him with an incredulous look on his face.

“You’re kidding. Wonder Boy knocked him out cold.”

“Just because the puppet is disabled does not mean that puppet master himself is inactive.”

“And just what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Watch.”

He knelt before the crumpled form of the leader of the Q Continuum. He paused for a moment, surveying the GPQ and appearing satisfied, thrust the fingers of his right hand into the entity’s chest. The GPQ’s body to life with a spasm, his eyes bursting open and spewing out flame. A grin of most sinister proportions was upon his face.

“You cannot win against universal nature, Stranger,” it said in a voice that most certainly did not belong to the GPQ. It was a dark voice, almost guttural in nature, a harsh whisper that seemed to chill the air to the bone. “Everything that has a beginning must have an end. The end is nigh.”

Without warning, the entire body of the GPQ burst into flames and within moments was reduced to a pile of smoking ashes. Before Q could once again pose his teensy little question ion regards to what in the hell had just happened, a shrill screaming unlike any sound he had ever heard filled the air outside of the castle, a whole chorus of them joining the initial cry. The skies, still darkened from the onset of nightfall, began to grow even more black, lightning and flame flashing throughout the vast expanse of the sky.

“We must leave this realm and quickly,” the Stranger said. "Are your powers still being dampened?”

All three Q’s tried snapping their fingers, but nothing happened.

“As I feared. Despite a few abilities, mine are also not up to full strength or potency. Mr. Crusher, where did you enter the Continuum from?”

“From the vicinity of the celestial pond.”

“Then we must make haste while the sole remaining exit from this realm remains open.”

“So we‘re making a run for it, is that it?” Q asked.

“More or less.”

“Hmm. To the bridge of Khazad-Dum then, eh?”

***

Elsewhere and elsewhen, the speaker of many turned her attention away from the flaming flotsam of the Timseship Paradox to the look of worry and contemplation upon Axum’s face. It had been tempting to bring the ship into the fold of her vast armada; after all, you could never have too many ships, especially with the grand attack she had planned. But the Paradox was not key to the attack’s outcome; that game piece currently resided in orbit of Earth.

In regards to Axum, she should have known that he might sense something sooner or later. Despite their victory, none of them had ever truly been free. She still had limited control here and there. It wasn’t much, yet it was just enough to subtly influence certain decisions and outcomes.

Why else, for example, would the ‘rouge’ elements of the organization choose to break off and begin their assault on the Dominion? Why else would Axum had chosen to arrive in the Alpha Quadrant with transwarp technology and other resources at the beginning of the attempted invasion. Why else would the Fusion Cube have shut down when it was upon the verge of triumph against the Yuuzhan Vong?

Everything that was falling into the proper place had been the result of meticulous planning, anticipation, and sacrifice. Everything that had been committed had been done so with a specific purpose in mind: The Restoration.

The first step of the endgame had truly begun.

***


To be Continued…

***


Author’s Notes
* The Titan’s designation as a Luna-class vessel can be seen in both books of the ongoing book series, “Taking Wing” and “The Red King”.

* Gul Macet first appeared in the TNG episode “The Wounded” and was played by Marc Alaimo, who went on to portray Gul Dukat. The post-DS9 novels have explained that the likeness is the result of Macet being Dukat’s cousin. His ship, the Trager, first appeared in the DS9 Gateways entry, “Demons of Air and Darkness”.

* Again, Kamino’s fate following the end of the Clone Wars is unknown as of this writing; what is printed is speculation on my part. Hopefully, post-ROTS works like James Luceno’s “Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader” will shed light on this unanswered question.

* The bridge of Khazad-Dum is of course a reference to “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring”.




***

And of course, what better way to celebrate the 5,000th post than with what I hope will be the last BOBW sig for now:

Bows to JME2's superior post count.

Whoa, Borg Queen's still kickin' around, huh? And I feel bad for Q. If I needed rescuing from Wesley Crusher, I think I'd be embarressed, too.

Post, the first.

EDIT: Wow . . . the shit's really hit the fan now hasn't it? Paradox gone, massive temporal disruptions, that collaborating bitch Viqi Shesh stirring up the pot, and now the Q continuum's going down the drain!

Wesley's not the gardener is he? Rereading the last few chapters, I had the weirdest feeling that all these mysterious characters we keep seeing are people we know, or should know . . .

Good stuff.

EDIT, the second: Damn it, Trogdor beat me to it.