StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Finally! First post!

Waoh, excellant rising of tension JME2. Though As usualy a nitpick. You refered to Ms. Rees. Her name was Arla Reese. Which by bajoarn custom means it should be Ms Arla as Reese is her given name.

Did Q just call the Star Wars films B-movies?

Trogdor wrote:Did Q just call the Star Wars films B-movies?

Maybe.

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

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Authors Warnings: This chapter contains possible spoilers for the novel “Articles of the Federation” and deleted scenes for ROTS. Other than that, I hope everyone’s enjoying the holidays.

***

Act II, Part XVI

“He who has one enemy shall meet him everywhere.”

- Ali Ibn-Abu-Talib -

***

Location: U.S.S. Enterprise-E
Sector 001, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

It was a truly a sight to behold, a visual that was both awe-inspiring and horrifying simultaneously. On one side lay the glittering form of the Enterprise-E, with the assembled force of under eight-hundred Starfleet forces marshalling behind it. The small armada held position in front of the blue, white, and green orb that was the figurative and literal heart of the Federation. If it fell, if the fleet that guarded it failed in its duty, than the Federation as all knew it would cease to exist.

To the other side, like schools of fish in the dark depths of any ocean, lay the alien, geometric shapes of the Borg fleet. The smaller Interceptors swarmed about, constantly circling the fleet as more and more craft, some familiar to the Alpha Quadrant and others still foreign, joined the dance of curse. If these thousands of amalgamations of flesh and machinery should succeed and pool their destructive energies, then Earth would fall and the grand dream would come crashing down.

On the Enterprise’s bridge, Kathryn Janeway sat, determination and anticipation etched upon her brow, her hands maintaining a solid grip on the armrests. The atmosphere was tense, but cool, everyone from Tuvok to the lowest ensign focused on their stations and the battle preparations. None of them had known each other long, yet all were united in their desire to see the Borg fleet burn.

“Tactical Status, Mr. Tuvok?”

“Transphasic and Quantum torpedoes are armed. Armor is ready to deploy. The Avalon, Gormenghast, and Montezuma are in position. Shogei Maru reports her fighters are ready to launch.”

“What about Republic reinforcements?”

“The Borg are jamming all outgoing signals. Contact with the Wormhole Relay is impossible at this present moment.”

Janeway remained impassive, but her inner grimace grew greater. The Republic fleet elements were now either en route with the small fleet to the Neutral Zone or on the other side of the wormhole. Only a handful of either transphasic torpedoes or ablative armor generators had been installed on the Starfleet ships present and only a single defense platform was still operational. This left Janeway longing for at least a hundred or more turbolaster cannons to come to their aid.

“Alright then. Mr. Tuvok, make every shot –”

“Admiral, the Borg fleet!” one of the other bridge officers cried out suddenly. Janeway found herself gasping along with the rest of the bride crew as the cubes, spheres, and assorted craft seemed to shimmer for a moment and then vanished in a twinkle of green light.

“Tuvok?”

“The entire fleet initiated a brief, simultaneous activation of their Transwarp drives.”

“Can you plot their course, Tuvok?”

“I will try.”

The Vulcan tapped at his panel for several moments, inputting figures and headings in conjunction with all available data Starfleet possessed on the Borg’s transwarp abilities, much of which had been garnered by Voyager during such instances as the “Operation Fort Knox” incident.

“Admiral,” he said at last, “if my calculations are correct, that heading will take them to the Nubian Wormhole.”

There was silence on the Enterprise bridge, broken only by the pinging of the communications panel.

“Lieutenant?”

“We are receiving two incoming Priority One messages. The first is from the Wormhole Relay posts. They report engagement with the Borg fl…we just lost the transmission.”

“And the other message?”

“We are receiving new orders from Bunker One. We are being ordered to hold position and not pursue.”

Janeway just starred incredulously at the communications officer.

“On whose authority?”

“Admiral Nechayev.”

Figures.

“Belay that and open a channel to the fleet.”

“Channel open.”

“This is Admiral Janeway to the fleet. I didn’t spend seven years dealing with these cybernetic locusts in the Delta Quadrant to see them raise holy hell on another galactic populace. And I know everyone here lost someone or something directly or indirectly at either Wolf 359 or Typhon. Do you want the Republic to face similar emotional or physical trauma? I am thereby ordering you all to belay Admiral Nechaevy’s orders. All ships that can make way under their own power, prepare to pursue the Borg fleet through the wormhole. Admiral Janeway out.”

As the channel closed, Janeway stepped back to take a look at the bridge crew. All eyes were upon her and she knew that this was the moment of truth.

“Anyone have any problems with my actions? If so, now is the time to speak.”

No one on the bridge responded, save for the communications lieutenant. He raised himself from his station and stood at attention.

“Admiral, I have been serving onboard the Enterprise since her initial launch. I know you have been with us only a short time, but we believe in you. We all followed your sojourn and celebrated at Izar when you returned. I know I can’t speak for the entire crew, but for the bridge crew at least, we’re with you, Admiral.”

A small smile came to Janeway’s lips.

“Alright then. Lay in a course and pursue.”

Once more into the breach, then.

***

In the depths of Bunker One, Admiral Alynna Nechayev felt prepared to go into cardiac arrest as the digital figures of Janeway’s fleet began to vanish one by one, the vessels giving chase to the fleeing Borg craft. Only a handful of commanders were choosing not to participate in Janeway’s little dereliction of duty.

That…I will not let that bitch…I am in control here. I…

No, no, now was not the time to entertain her fantasies and shades of anger. There was no anger, only calmness, no fury, only calculation. Janeway’s dereliction of duty, while unfortunate for Starfleet, would work in her favor as would certain…other factors.

Then it will be all the much easier to initiate Blackfire…

***

Location: France
Earth, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

For nearly two centuries, the Federation President’s place of dwelling had been within the city of Paris and the heart of the Palais de la Concorde. This had all changed during the presidency of Thelianaresth th'Vorothishria. An architect prior to becoming a politician, the Andorian than had gone to the valleys outside of Paris and constructed a modest Chateau for the chief of states to use during their terms of office.

It had been a welcome repast for Thelianaresth to oversee the construction at its various stages. His presidency had not been the easiest of times, taking place in the midst of the first contact with the Cardassian Union and the pains of the Betreka Neubla Incident. The Andorian, however, had been a most humble individual and it had been his successors, not him, who had given the residence the title of Chateau Thelian.

While the Chateau had been open to public touring since its construction, the Dominion War had forced the implementation of security closures and policies that were still in effect four years later. That hadn’t stopped Jacen Solo from easily making his way onto the grounds and into the main foyer. And that was what alarmed him more than anything else.

Yes, he was a Jedi and yes, he possessed certain skills and abilities greater than those of the average man. But Starfleet took its security very seriously, especially with both their government’s leader and with said government on the cusp of an epic war with the greatest threat to the Republic since Palpatine. So, where were the guards? Where was the alarmed and surprised reaction to the drawn, sizzling blue blade of his lightsaber?

Where was everyone?

This emptiness, this ghostliness – this was precisely what had played out in the vision Jacen had received during his meditation in the suite in Tokyo. He hadn’t had time to explain to Threepio what had presented itself, only that it had to be prevented. And now as he entered into the Chateau’s main office and the President’s workplace away from work, Jacen realized with a sickening feeling in his stomach that he had failed.

The only real way to sum up the scene in the Chataeu’s main office was in a single word: bloodbath. In the darkness, advisors and other officials assigned to the President’s staff lay sprawled everywhere – along with their limbs, other body parts and enough blood to send a Barbarel into hysterics of delight.

At the far end, in the ornate chair Thelian and his successors had used, lay Grey’si of Andor, the President of the United Federation of Planets. His antennae not longer stood tall and proud. His eyes instead now gazed upwards in shock and fear. The cream-colored tunic that he had been fond of bore no markings save for a diagonally inflicted slash across his chest. Jacen leaned in closer, holding the glowing blade of his lightsaber as close as possible so as to better illuminate the cause of the Andorian’s death.

Minimal blood loss, instant cauterization…oh no…

Jacen’s blood froze as he realized the implications of what he had seen. Grey’si and the others had not died from blaster bolts or phaser blasts. They had been killed by a lightsaber.

* click *

It didn’t matter what side of the wormhole you were on; Jacen knew the sound of a weapon being armed when he heard it. Out of the corner of his eye, he sawbrightly-illuminated Federation security forces appear behind him, their weapons armed and grim expressions upon their faces.

“Hands up, Jedi.”

***

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

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“For the last time, yes.”

Boba gave the Reman Praetor a long look before going back through the pre-flight startup. In the dim light and with the occasional flash of lightning, Shinzon seemed paler, wraith-like even. Boba fiddled with one of the control panels of the Slave V’s guidance system for a moment.

“You do not approve. But you are not my keeper,” Shinzon observed aloud, breaking the relative silence of the cockpit. From beneath the Mandalorian helmet, Boba rolled his eyes.

Why in the seven hells did I let Banu Le talk me into this?

“Look, kid, I grew up with the Kaminoans. I know quite well how knowledgeable they are in the realm of genetics. If they say you should be in bed, then you stay there.”

Medical scans two days prior showed Shinzon’s collapse had been the result of his condition deteriorating even further. Apparently, the kid’s genetic problems were similar to problems faced by the Clone Troopers as the temporal RNA sequencing had begun to kick in. Unfortunately, Shinzon’s hadn’t and the DNA and RNA had degraded too much for even the vaunted Kaminoan cloners to adequately fix it. It could be mended -- a nano-tech injection had seen to that – but it was to be a temporary solution at best. The Cloners needed Shinzon’s original donor if they were to have any hopes of either repairing the body or cloning him a new one in time.

“The pain is bearable. All that matters is finding Vkruk and the Scimitar.”

His suffering was great, yet all he cared about was locating his countrymen and comrades-in-arms. It was…well, some would consider it foolish, others admirable. Fett had never had that luxury, that kind of drive. When Jango had died at Geonosis, he had nowhere really to go. Even with the Kaminoans and the remaining Mandalorians who had survived Galidraan, Fett had always felt like an outsider and had lived his life as such.

Either way, however, Shinzon was either completely loyal to the cause or completely insane. Boba would have given that more thought, but the engine startup forced his attention elsewhere. With a jolt, the Slave V accelerated upwards and within a minute, had cleared the upper atmosphere of Kamino. Shinzon appeared satisfied.

“We are clear of the stratosphere. Activate your hyperdrive, bounty hunter.”

“Not just yet.”

Shinzon looked at Fett as if he had been kicked in the stomach.

“What?”

“Praetor, just how exactly did you intend to find your missing starship? Follow a trial of crumbs and stardust?”

“That—”

“Kid, leave the manhunting to the professionals, okay? The key to locating your ship lies with its attacker.”

“The Star Destroyer?”

“Maybe.”

Shinzon’s patience began to dwindle once again.

“Then let us determine who uses Star Destroyers and is within striking range—”

Fett resisted the urge to leave the cockpit and retrieve his modified EE-3, but decided against it; what would people think of the cockpit’s upholstery if he started shooting? Instead he focused instead on queuing up his HoloNet transceiver.

“Then we’ll be at it for years. Star Destroyers have a Class One Hyperdrive; they can strike from practically anywhere. And even with the hyperdrive vector I recorded, they likely made multiple jumps to cover their tracks. In addition, everybody uses Star Destroyers after a fashion. It could be the Republic, the Empire, or half a dozen splinter groups that stole vessels abandoned during the Civil War. However, I’ve got a theory, but I need it verified.”

“Verified? Verified by whom?

“Well, him.”

The Holo-Net viewer had flared to life. For a moment, there was only static and a garbled cacophony of various sounds before the image focused in on the receiver of Fett’s transmission. He was a humanoid in what appeared to be his forties, portly and heavily bearded, though with a twinkle in his eyes.

“Hey, Fett-man, long-time no see!”

With most people who dealt with the bounty hunter, the fear and tension associated with his reputation were palpable. But with Oim Synn, it was a different case. The man always seemed to be, well, smiling, no matter how much Fett threatened or intimidated him. Personally, Boba found him to be insufferable, but he was one of his more reliable information sources and so, he put up with Synn.

“Let me do the talking, Praetor,” Fett whispered before turning his attention back to the viewer.

“Hello Synn.”

“Did that information on the Deneri case help you out at all?”

“It did indeed.”

“Excellent. So my friend, what can I do you for this time?”

“I need the location of Talon Karrde.”

***

Location: Naboo System
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

“This is Captain Elin Olie of the Naboo Defense Force to Unimatrix Zero vessels. State your – “

Those familiar with the Borg and their ways would likely have raised an eyebrow at the fleet’s seeming incongruities with typical Borg response or contact. In this case, the Borg fleet just blasted the initial Nabbo response vessels without going into their usual rhetoric. In the Neo-Queen’s eyes, the vaunted and ever-flaunted proclamation of resistance and futility was good and all, but now was not the time or place – at least not for her.

“Urrk…”

The Queen glanced down at the assimilation table she had had specially set up for the occasion.

“Patience, my friend, patience. All will come to pass in due time.”

She turned her attention away from the table and to her two most foremost servants.

“General Korok, take command of Cube TX-3811 and Task-Force B8. Pacify the Naboo and protect the Transwarp Hub at all costs.”

The assimilated – or re-assimilated, though he lacked the familiar pale skin and implants – Klingon bowed before dissolving in the sickly green glow of the Borg transporter. The Queen was left now with her once and future lieutenant, Seven of Nine. It had really taken little effort to re-exert her control over Seven or Korok; both were still relatively recent departed from the Collective and more easily susceptible, just as Axum had been.

There came the sound of cooing and the Queen found herself staring down at the bundle of soft pink flesh and white cloth cradled in Seven of Nine’s arms.

“Your destiny lies with another, little one.”

She motioned to Seven.

“Take the infant and place him in side-bar dimension A-32. Watch over him until his new master arrives.”

Seven bowed and cradled the child, vanishing like Korok in a flash of green transporter light. Yet, rather than feel fulfilled at knowing another piece of the plan had been complete, the Queen felt her misgivings and earlier trepidations return.

The child’s abduction had not been a random act; it had been part of the bargain. And while it may have been tempting to break or ignore it, the Queen could not allow such occurrences and surprises to happen this late in the game, so to speak. In any event, this was no longer her concern at the moment, though she could not help but wonder precisely how her ally’s plans were proceeding at that moment.

***

Location: The Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“It’s been a long time, Skywalker,” Lumiya/Callista said, circling him slowly and studying him as if he were a scientific specimen. She paid neither the Siskos or Palas any heed. Luke just starred at the woman before him, his eyes trying to focus on every aspect of this figure that the light permitted him to see.

He knew both of these women quite well…

Lady Lumiya…

Once upon a time, Shira Brie had been an Imperial Intelligence agent and Force pupil of Darth Vader. Brie had infiltrated Rogue Squadron in an attempt to manipulate Luke into a belief that he was better off as Vader’s sword than the Alliance’s. The deception was eventually uncovered and Brie’s fighter shot down by Luke. Vader, however, had recovered her body and like himself, had transformed her into a cyborg and furthered her Sith training.

When Vader and Palpatine had died above Endor, she had become more than any of Palpatine’s other dark adepts the de-facto Dark Lord – or in this case, Lady --of the Sith. Despite several encounters, he had lost Lumiya’s trail since and had often wondered if she had not only heeded the call of her reborn master, but also had perished when the Galaxy Gun misfire had consumed Byss.

That question, almost two decades in the making had now been answered as he gazed. She appeared almost exactly as she had twenty years earlier. Then again, such a conclusion was difficult to ascertain based solely on the ceremonial bandages that Lumiya had always favored. There was of course the matter of the voice, the voice of Callista.

Callista Ming...

Years before his birth, Callista Ming had been a Jedi of the Old Republic, an apprentice to the maverick Master Djinn Altis. A year after the initial Jedi Purge had begun, Callista sacrificed herself to prevent an early Imerial superweapon, the Eye of Palpatine, from coming online and destroying secret a Jedi refugee on Belsavis.

Like Obi-Wan, Yoda, and his father, however, Callista’s spirit had survived her sacrifice and kept the Eye dormant until the delusional Roganda Ismaren had attempted to commandeer the weapon in the months following Exar Kun’s final end. Luke had fallen in love with her and while the destruction of the Eye had cost him the death of two students, it had allowed Callista to inhabit one of their bodies and live on.

Unfortunately, the transference had not been successful and Callista had found that the only way to access her Force powers was through the Dark Side. She had fled the Academy and while Luke had eventually found her, he had acknowledged that it was her choice and her life, not his. Luke had not seen her since then and, like Lumiya, had often wondered what had become of her.

And now he knew…or did he?

“How?”

Lumiya’s voice cut into his thoughts like a dark blade through the light. She had stopped her pacing and was now standing directly above him, her cold eyes focused on him. Her question gave voice to his inner thoughts.

“That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it?”

“The thought crossed my mind,” Luke replied dryly.

“Then let us wonder what may be responsible for this seeming incongruity, hmm? Dark-Side alchemy as pioneered by Exar Kun? Surgery performed by the best cyber-biologists in the galaxy? It can be any of these and none at all. You don’t need to know, though.”

“Then tell me something I do need to know.”

“Very well. I want many things, Master Skywalker. I want to play fuse-ball with the universe. I want an apprentice worthy of the Sith lineage. I want your precious New Republic to go the way of the Empire.”

“The Yuuzhan Vong might you beat you to that,” Luke replied, struggling at his bonds once more and hoping that such an event would not come to pass. Lumiya simply gazed down at him again and shook her head.

“For the last time, Skywalker, those bonds will not be broken by as feeble a Force practitioner as yourself. Oh, you may think that you can because you’re a Skywalker, because your daddy was Chosen, that you brought back an ancient order that dug its own grave.”

Chosen?

Both Yoda and Ben had spoken little of Anakin’s life prior to his transformation into Vader and as such, Luke knew only that his father had been a talented pilot and cunning warrior, yet an angry youth. As such, Luke had no idea what Lumiya was talking about and wondered briefly what she hoped to gain from it.

“Ironically however, your family’s Chosen status will allow both myself and the Pah-Wraith cult exactly what we both desire. Palas?”

The monk bowed and stepped to the side, beyond the torches where neither Luke or the Siskos had been able to see. After a moment, he returned carrying an ornately-covered box under each shoulder, both similar to the one he had been sitting on. He moved quickly, placing all three in a triangular formation around Master Skywalker. When Lumiya appeared satisfied, Palas swung open the boxes, revealing –

“The Orbs of Jalbador,” Jake whispered for the second time that day as Palas moved out of the way. Lumiya nodded.

“Indeed. No, don’t avert your eyes, little Miss Sisko,” Lumiya stated to the younger Rebecca who had now come to. “You might miss the show. After all, this is similar to how your daddy died.”

Kasidy began to struggle at her bonds and curse in a number of various dialects she had picked up during his years captaining the Xhosa, but the Dark Lady of the Sith paid her no heed. Instead, she held out her hands in an all too familiar stance and Luke braced himself for the onslaught of Force Lightning. But nothing happened. For a moment Luke wondered what Lumiya was trying to do. Then the Orbs of Jalbador began to pulsate, slowly at first, then fast and faster.

Without warning, all three orbs exploded with energy, three distinct tendrils forming a circuit and connecting with the Jedi Master. The pain was just as tantalizing as it had been on both prior occasions. Despite behind chained, his body was thrown about like a leaf caught in the wind. As Skywalker screamed on in pain, Lumiya snapped her fingers–

-- and behind her the Fire Caves, for lack of a better term, exploded, the various pillars and stalactites living up to their name. The fire wavered for a moment, then seemed to leap out of the chasm and connect with the tendrils of Orb energy. Luke screamed in greater agony as the entire chamber was bathed in a dark chaotic miasma of reds, oranges, and yellows. If there was ever a literal hellfire, it was this.

Then, as quickly as the light-show began, it subsided. The tendrils withdrew back into the Orbs and the Jedi Master fell back to the ground.

“Master Skywalker?”

Luke did not respond nor did he given any indications of life still being present within his body. As the Siskos looked on in continued horror, the fires dimmed, but did not diminish entirely. They continued to adequately illuminate the Fire Caves and in the center, there now stood – or rather, floated – an individual.

He was clothed in the tattered red and brown remains of what appeared to be a Bajoran suit. He was pale-skinned with jet-black hair that appeared unkempt and wild. In addition, two thick vertical neck ridges recedeed back to the crown of his head. There was also an inverted tear-shaped ridge in the center of the forehead and below it were deep, sunknen eyes that glowed as red as the fires themselves had. From the edge of the abyss, Lady Lumiya looked on in triumph.

“Rise forth, Gul Dukat!”

***

Location: Coruscant
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

For the umpteenth time since joining the Defense Force, Private Jae Manes wondered why in the hell he hadn’t listened to his aunt and just become a biologist back on dear old Ansion. If he had, then the greatest fear he would have to worry about while tending to his needs on the edge of the plains would have been the avoidance of the insect-like Kyren. Instead, he faced a greater fear and foe in the form of Sargeent Narib Shete

It had all begun when he had been assigned as co-operator of Coruscant Defense Satellite 1985-K. With the threat of a Yuuzhan Vong invasion more and more dire in the months leading up to the Naboo Incident, Admiral Sovv had ordered the laying of a minefield around the planet. Such an undertaking meant that even the Central Orbital Command could not keep an omnipresent eye on the field and as such, smaller stations were scattered about to monitor various sectors.

Thus, 1985-K was one of these stations. The satellite interior was a somewhat larger than the cockpit on the Lambda-class shuttlecraft that Manes had been on prior to his military career. Normally, it was just him and his superior office, Sargeent Narib Shete for a twelve hour shift. Now, working in such tight quarters for twelve hours straight was bad enough. But the primary problem that plagued Manes was that the Sergeant was rather fond of Mon Calamari opera.

He truly liked the Mon Calamari’s music. He liked it very, very much. And he seemed to do nothing but play the strange and foreboding notes from the beginning of their shift to its climax. And if Manes had to listen to a rendition of Squii’d Lake one more time…

Still, he was a citizen of the New Republic. The diplomatic approach wouldn’t kill him.

“Hey, Sarge, why do we have to listen to this Mon Cal stuff?”

From his seat at the primary control panel. Sergeant Shete sat back, a rueful grin upon his face.

“Because I’m in charge, Jae, that’s why.”

Manes blew air impatiently.

“That’s just a bunch of-”

“Through, truth be told, I’m rather anxious to try something new."

“Really?”

“Well, at least for today, anyway.”

Jae’s spirits rose --

“We’ll watch the latest political feed from the Atrium.”

-- only to fall back planet side.

Politics.

That was even worse than the Mon Cal opera. It was nothing more than rich upper-classmen trying to find more ways to line their pockets and credit vouchers. If he wasn’t his superior officer, Manes would have gone Borokii on the Sergeant.

“Alright, turn her on,” he said in resignation. With a minor adjustment to the receiving unit, the strange, watery sounds of the Mon Cal opera were replaced by the familiar, almost boring monotone of a Coruscant Newscaster.

“…is in a state of mourning over the death of its Chief of State. Reports of nominations by the Senate and Advisory Council are uncertain at this time, though Senator Viqi Shesh of Kuat is emerging as the popular contender, especially in light of the footage made public two days ago of an apparent Federation spy…"

Jae found it difficult to repress a sneer at the mention of Kuat’s representative. Yes, the Republic was all about friendship and inter-species tolerance. But that didn’t change the fact that the Kuati were a bunch of aristocratic, elitist nobs who wouldn’t hesitate to screw you over at a moment’s notice.

“…Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the United Federation of Planets has prepared a response and we now go live to…"

The image shifted to Pickhard – or was it Peekhard; Jae didn’t know nor care. The Starfleet Captain looked terribly uncomfortable and not too physically well. Lines and bags were under his eyes and he appeared quite weary.

“…it is now time that I be entirely honest. The man in the holo-recordings provided by Senator Shesh…”

The bald Starfleet fellow seemed to hesitate, as if he were wavering on whether to reveal something tremendous.

“…is a member of a secret cabal of officers who believe they alone are suited to guiding the Federation’s interests. They call themselves Section 31. They spied on the Ralroost and may or may not had been responsible for the bombing of the Federation Council. They are not, I repeat, not, representative of Starfleet policy and –”

“Great, Secret organizations, cabals – didn’t we get enough of that Sithspawn with – Whoa!”

Jae was interrupted as 1985-K shook violently, the result of something screeching by the station at full sublight.

“Did we just hit something?”

“We’re an immobile satellite; how in the hells could we have hit something?”

“Actually, we’re technically in synchronous orbit with —”

Whatever playfulness the Sergeant may have had moments earlier had vanished.

“Jae, shut up and man your station.”

“Yes sir.”

“I could have sworn that was a Borg craft. A Sphere, too, I think. But why would one be out this far into the Core unless…”

Jae followed the Sarge’s gaze and found himself as speechless as his commanding officer. At the edge of the planetary mine-field, a tear seemed to have opened in space, a tear that pulsated with green and blue energy. And from the heart of that pulsing maw were emerging thousands upon thousands of Borg ships, lances of fire and destruction blasting through the mine-field and any picket ships that stood in their way.

On the stallite, Jae looked at the Sear gent, then at the alien armada, and then back at his superior officer.

“I love you, Sarge.”

The incredulous look on the Sergeant’s face was the last thing either man saw as a Borg interceptor swooped down from the heavens and blasted Defense Satellite 1985-K into stardust.

***

From the central command center of her Fusion Cube, the Neo-Queen smiled. Unimatrix Zero’s arrival at the critical juncture of the first Federation/Yuuzhan Vong engagement had been no accident, nor had their willingness to construct a Transwarp Hub in the Naboo system for the Alliance’s use. It was all a small part of a much grander scheme, a scheme centuries in the making and now finally coming to fruition with the attack on Coruscant.

“All will merge, all will be one. The Collective must grow.”

***

To be Continued…

***

Author’s Notes
* We’re almost there, guys. Around two, maybe three more chapters and the curtain can finally fall on Act II.

* Operation Fort Knox was of course the theft of the transwarp drive during “Dark Frontier” in VGR’s fifth season.

* Chateau Thelian first appeared in the novel “Articles of the Federation” by Keith R.A. deCandido.

* The scattering of the Mandalorians at Galidraan can be found in the graphic novel “Jango Fett: Open Seasons”.

* I should have stated this in the previous chapter, so I’ll state it now. Lumiya first appeared in Marvel Star Wars # 55 (January 1982) and Callista in “Children of the Jedi” by Barbara Hambly.

* In regards to the Force Spirits, remember that Luke is still under that pre-I/II/III idea that all Force Users were able to transcend death. This was an explanation that found its way into the novelization of ROTS, but not the final film.

* The Sarge bit is a tribute to my favorite cut-scene from the original Starcraft.

* During the production on Episode III, both ILM and George Lucas referred to the opera scene as “Squid Lake” and the Star Wars Wiki followed suit. The title has been tweaked for the sake of the story.

* The Borokii are the natives of Ansion, as shown in “The Approaching Storm” by Alan Dean Foster.

Sweet, a nice chapter. Thpugh Jacen's lightsabre should be green not blue.
I also have reservations about Dukat's return, I never liked his Pah-Wraith schtik.

So much shit hitting the fan. Sooooo much.

Trogdor wrote:So much shit hitting the fan. Sooooo much.

That was what I had in mind with Act II from the beginning. Most of what's happening now or has happened in the last few chapters (the hijacking of the Scimitar, Shesh and the Zweller footage, the Borg counter-attack) was plotted out back in January and I've been trying to build-up ever since. That was part of the reason so many of the delays as of late have been so infuriating to me. It's the same with Yesterdays and Tomorrows; the real meat of the plot for the Nadia series and my crossover are nearly upon us, but the wait and build-up was so damm frustrating.

Alas, not everyone has been patient enough (I won't name anyone, but let's just say one of the older readers eleswhere has become...disenchanted with Act II and has quit the story. I respect his decision, but personally, it's his loss). Yet, the payoff is worth it. The key now of course is to wrap up several of the myriad plot threads for the end of Act II while creating and, heh, merging others so as to set the stage of the endgame. But it's all finally starting to come together.

Oh, and Wraith, about the return of Dukat? Let me put it this way: It looks like Dukat, walks like Dukat, but that doesn't necessarily mean that it is Dukat. Just a thought...

What's happened? Nothing posted in a long time... is anyone still alive?

screamer_3 wrote:What's happened? Nothing posted in a long time... is anyone still alive?

It's been a combination of writer's block and academic exhaustion; too many credits this semester. I'm going to try to resume over the summer, but only time will tell...

Why so silent, good Monsieurs?/
Did you think that I had left you for good?/
Have you missed me, good Monsieurs?/
I have written you an opera./
Here, I bring the finished score./
Don Juan Triumphant!/
...

Or, as it has been said before, you wanted it? You've got it!

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

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Authors Notes:

* Spoiler Warning: This chapter contains possible spoilers for the novel Legacy of the Force: Betrayal

* Hey guys. Been a long time, hasn’t it? I can attribute the nearly six months of silence and absence of new chapters to several things. First, studies take priority, no matter how much I may want them to. Second, I had a very serious writer’s block and let me be frank, I will not deny that at times, I seriously considered just restarting the whole damm thing or moving on to another Trek/Wars crossover. After all, it was begun while the NJO was in its second year (at least, the initial chapters) and I will admit, I did not exactly have a master plan ready in 2001.

Then I took a good, long look over what had come before. 36 chapters, over 200,000 words. Yes, it’s not perfect, but I thought, “No, this isn’t going to end up like my other stories, with my interest waned and the works left unfinished. Whenever this little epic concludes, then I will begin work on another Trek/Wars crossover. I actually already have an idea involving Captain Harriman and the Enterprise-B...but I digress. So, sit back and enjoy the resumption of Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds!

***

Act II, Part XVII

“Wisdom is better than the weapons of war, but one sinner destroys much good.”

- Ecclesiastes –

***

Location: Galactic Void
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

The priest Harrar slowly walked the winding corridors of one of the living vessels commanded by the Priest caste, the vessel a single grain of sand in the best sea of Yuuzhan Vong ships that hovered on the edge of the Void. Through a transparent viewing port he passed, Harrar could glimpse the sight that had obsessed and awed many in their society: The bright, slowly spinning disk of the infidel galaxy and with it, their new home.

The image brought back the memories of Harrar’s early years, from his training and meeting of Tsavong Lah to his completion of his first duties. It filled him with a sense of elation that he missed from those, a sense that had been recaptured after a fashion in recent times. The Unclean who had driven them from their primordial homeworld had been discovered, the troublesome resistance movement on New Plympto now burned like the planet itself, and evidence had emerged in the Senate from their ally Viqi Shesh which effectively dammed the Federation’s attempts at alliance.

And yet, two fleets had been lost or humiliated trying to lay siege to the United Federation of Planets. The Warmaster, his old friend, was dead. And the Unclean, while allied with the Federation, could form a separate partnership with the Republic. Some in the priest caste had interpreted these signs and potent events in various ways. Some saw it as a damnation from the Divine Pantheon, others a sign that the Invasion was proceeding to their satisfaction and that the appearance of the Unclean were but a further test for the children of the gods.

Harrar honestly wished he knew. At times like this, he envied the Shaper Caste and their vaa-tumor, the affliction that supposedly altered the Shaper's own cells and brought her closer to Yun-Ne'Shel. He wished he could gain that greater understanding, perhaps even something similar to the suppoused precognitive abilities spies such as Peace Brigaders and Nom Anor claimed the Jeedai possessed.

No, he banished that thought as quickly as it had come. Such thoughts were heretical and he was foolish to even summoun it, lest the gods observe and punish such a thought. The Jeddai were infidels among infidels – even he did not deny that.

And yet…

And yet, the tale that had made its way out of Yavin 4 months earlier, of the redemption of the Shamed warrior Vua Rapuung and the heretical actions of Mezhan Kwaad gave even him pause and filled him with a sense of doubt he had not felt in almost four decades. But the Quorealists – those who had supported the previous Supreme Overlord until Shimmra Jaamane had deposed of him – had had no reason to end their silence thus far. No, only a discovery on the level of a living world, the ultimate taboo, would –

Harrar.

The Priest swung around at the sudden mention of his name. He expected an Adept or aide to –

…

But there was none in the corridor.

Stunned at this apparent senility, Harrar prayed that this was simply a result of the fatigue that he and his fellow Priests had been experiencing since the discovery of the Nubian Wormhole. Madness was occasionally the bane of even the most stout Yuuzhan Vong. He knew from his contacts among the Shapers of one such case, Kae Kwaad, a shaper whose quest to apparently find the perfect grutchin had driven all sanity and determination from him.

Harrar.

His prayers to the Gods, though only dispatched moments before, seemed to have failed. Again came the voice, a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and from nowhere, a voice terrifying yet strangely soothing at the same time..

Harrar, Prepare for the Summoning,

***

Location: San Francisco
Earth, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“Remind me again of whose bright idea it was to promote Janeway to a $!Q%& Admiral?!”

Under normal circumstances, Zweller might have smirked at such an exclamation, but this was no time for smirking or joy. Even if it was, he wouldn’t have joined in on it. The atmosphere of the deserted TR-116 factory was as dark and shadowy as their own moods.

Janeway’s actions had resulted in hundreds of vessels having mutinied and now pursuing the Borg fleet into the Republic’s galaxy. With the losses suffered from Tsavong Lah’s assault, the Federation fleet – which had still not achieved pre-Dominion War levels – was severely weakened and strained, even with the covert support of the Shadow fleet. Just as bad was that someone had nabbed Tsavong Lah and while evidence suggested it was now the departed Borg fleet, that didn’t lessen the loss of a possible bargaining chip – not to mention the breach in security.

And that of course was just the beginning. At least half the Federation Councilors were dead or still missing from the disaster zone of the Council building. And just as the Breen had done before them during the final months of the Dominion War, the Borg weaponry had transformed the TPT and Starfleet Command as a whole into a wreck. Grey’si and his staff had been murdered, a Jedi apprehended at the scene of the crime – Jacen Solo, if Zweller remembered correctly. No there was no two ways about it: The Federation was going to, if not already in, hell.

And all because ol’ Johnny had to go pull a Sisko and go find a wormhole right in our freaking backyard.

There were a select few in the Federation that even four years after his death, held Benjamin Sisko responsible for the conflict with the Dominion thanks to his discovery of the Bajoran Wormhole. A childish belief, perhaps, but Zweller was getting sick and tired of Starfleet Captains on the edge of the final frontier who kept opening Pandora’s boxes that ended up biting the Federation in its collective behind.

This was why Zweller had always opposed the Treaty of Algeron. He of course knew the truth behind it, of the hyperwarp/cloaking hybrid tech, Captain John Harriman involvement, and all the good theatrics and misdirection that had played a role into the Tomed Incident. But it was times like this that he wish it hadn’t been approved. How many hostile first contacts or enemies could Starfleet have avoided if their ships had been equipped with a cloaking device?

But at least we’ve still got the Organization.

Thirty-One had managed to come together in the decades following First Contact, survive the old Earth Starfleet’s battles against the Suliban, the Xindi, and the Romulans, and become the last hope of the United Federation of Planets. It had survived the inquisitive persecution of people like Julian Bashir and Elias Vaughn and would continue to serve the Federation in the best way they knew how. But even Zweller had to admit that the odds and the game board weren’t looking too spiffy and the Twelve seemed to share the sentiment.

“Again, I will ask you to refrain from utilizing such profanity. And despite your own objections to the original matter, you agreed it was best to place Janeway in such a position for all our benefits.”

That was true. While Nechayev had been unable to get Janeway court-martialed in the wake of Voyager’s return, her arguments coupled with Janeway’s record had allowed both Command and the Council to agree upon a compromise. In short, they had given her an admiralty position, but one that would keep her behind a desk and away from any front-line antics and shenanigans.

“Well a bunch of good that did us!”

“A minor detail. Despite our best efforts, many still view Janeway as a hero. Yet, steps will be undertaken to prevent this for the immediate period. Those specifically loyal to Janeway or Picard are being recalled or closely monitored. Unfortunately, the task is somewhat…difficult.”

All of Picard’s senior staff was either now currently on Coruscant, engaging the Borg armada, or en route to the Romulan Border. There was nothing that could be done in any case, especially the last one. The radio silence was imperative to determining what in the hell was going on across the Neutral Zone. Alas, Riker had to be left alone. Thank God Ross was overseeing the mission.

Most of Janeway’s staff was too in the same boat, so to speak. There was still no word from Deep Space Nine and if that Borg armada had indeed originated from the Gamma Quadrant, than the Defiant – and the insufferable ex-Maquis and Janeway lackey Chakotay – was likely scrap. The Any outgoing transmissions or recall orders to the Rhode Island were being jammed. True, it was just one Ensign there, but Thirty-One wasn’t taking any chances. Better to keep them by the Kel’Spren Unity and out of the way.

“That’s not going to be enough. But I’ve come to expect nothing less from you all.”

There was a long silence and Zweller blinked, wondering if his ears had been playing tricks on him and that Admiral Nechayev had not been as stupid as she had presented herself in that moment.

“Your tone belies a lack of respect for the Twelve and the Organization, Admiral.”

Nechayev threw her head back at this and laughed, but it was a not a friendly or joyous laugh. No, this guffaw disturbed Zweller and very few things disturbed as her now chilling, bitter tone.

“Respect? Respect?! I’ve lost any ounce of respect I’ve had for the Organization’s mission and goals in the last month! We had an opportunity to turn the Republic away. We had an opportunity to disable their fleet. We had all of this and you bungled it like you always do! Now the future of the Federation and the Milky Way Galaxy itself is at stake and you’re worried about my tone!? The Organization has failed. You men and women have failed the Federation.”

“Admiral Nechayev—”

“Simply put, you are no longer a necessity. Your safeguarding of the future is hereby revoked.”

Before the Cabal leaders could further protest or discipline the unruly admiral tapped at the PADD that she had held at her side since the meeting began. The lead monolith cut off in mid-sentence, its holographic transmission flickering for a moment, then replaced with an undefined burst f static before finally displaying CONNECTION TERMINATED.

One by one in rapid succession, each of the twelve monoliths flashed the message and went silent. Zweller just starred at her, stupefied as to what had just transpired, that earlier feeling of dread growing by the second.

“What the hell did you just do?”

Nechayev shrugged

“What needed to be done. Strike teams just neutralized or killed your superiors. Such is the joy of commanding special ops teams or gunships and really isn’t too difficult when given enough time to trace and track them. But that’s just the first step. It’s a wonderful day for Blackfire, don’t you think so?”

Zweller’s already shocked facial features widened even more and a cold hand seemed to grip his heart. Section 31’s paranoia had served it well over the centuries. Yet, there was always the possibility that the organization could become as much a threat to the Federation as anyone else. To that end, all Section 31 tech and ships were linked together for one single purpose: to initiate the Blackfire protocol, a command only to be activated if all hope and safety for the Organization evaporated.

And now this crazy bitch was threatening to use it. Why was it that every Admiral in Starfleet seemed to go insane at one point or another? Ordinarily, Zweller could be certain she was bluffing except for one teensy little detail. Blackfire could only be activated by a Section 31 operative with the appropriate clearance and only if the Twelve were incapacitated or killed. While not the highest-ranked Starfleet Admiral, Nechayev was higher in the organization than anyone else, even Ross.

Did Nechayev even comprehend what her threat would result in? Section 31 was just as integral to the Federation as was a weather control matrix or a self-stealing stem bolt. The death of Section 31 would more than likely mean the death knell for the institution that so much had been sacrificed for over the course of two-hundred years. She had to be stopped. With a speed that did not seem possible for a man of his age, he produced his phaser from his side holster, the weapon charging as he brought it up—

– but was too late as something molten slammed into his upper torso, his chest suddenly exploding in a fiery inferno of pain courtesy of a chemically propelled tritanium bullet. With a cry, he crumpled on the ground. Nechayev stepped forward and looked down at him, a hunter regarding her prey. It was an apt metaphor given that she held a TR-116 in her hands. It had been produced from one of the crates that lay nearby, concealed in the shadows yet easily accessible to her in the seconds it had taken Zweller to bring his phaser up. Had she had it ready all along?

We just had to have a meeting in an abandoned weapons factory, didn’t we?

On that happy thought, Zweller felt blood gargling up in his throat and with as much effort, spit it at Nechayev.

“It’s…not…over you….crazy…bi…”

His sentence remain unfinished as Cortin Zweller dematerialized, his body claimed by a transporter. Most likely it had been from the Phantasm, Nechayev thought as she wiped Zweller’s spittle off her uniform. No matter; even in he were to worn them, it would still take time to disable the ship’s connection to the Thirty-One network. And she needed but a few seconds as she initiated a voice-command on her PADD set for distribution across the entire Federation Network.

“Initiate Protocl Blackfire. Authorization Nechayev Ord 6699. It’s time to save the Federation from itself.”

***

Location: Slave V
In orbit of Kamino

“How long has it been?”

“I told you, he’ll call back when he’s done, Praetor.”

Even if it’s been twenty hour since Synn began the search. He used to be faster in the old days; maybe if I put a blaster to his temple...

But much as Fett would like to blast Synn in person, he had to resist the urge. Karrde was, after all, notorious to track. And with the disruption of information trails and other lines of communication following the occupation of Hutt Space, Fett knew Synn was trying his best.

Still didn’t stop him from his enjoying his fantasy, though.

“Well then, at least tell me the significance of Karrde.”

“I already told you again and again over the last twenty hours.”

“I care not for these tales of smuggling chieftains and wild cards and what not. What is the true purpose of seeking out this Karrde in our search for the Scimitar?”

“Fine. Because Karrde can tell us why in the hell the Imperials had a Star Destroyer attack Kamino.”

Shinzon just blinked for a moment, the Praetor starring incredulously at the Mandalorian bounty hunter.

“What?”

“That was not what you said earlier. You said that anyone could be using that Star Destroyer.”

“I was making a hypothetical point. Besides, I’ve seen Star Destroyers in action since their earliest days, from the Victory-class to the Venator-class and everything since then. No matter what the type, each commander has a specific style that relates to their institution. The attack style, both from what I saw and the Kaminoan recordings, was pure Imperial. And it was in every aspect of the battle, not just one, so it’s not a former Imperial commander.

“If you know this, then why did we not start out towards the Imperial Remnant before?!”

“Because Karrde’s the best person to go to, especially when it comes to the Remnant. When they signed the Accord with the Republic a few years back, Karrde served as a middle-man between their respective intelligence services. Even though the position’s become moot thanks to the Remnant withdrawing after Ithor, he still has the level and access to information I don’t. If anyone can determine who was behind that ship, it’s –

Fett was interrupted as the Slave V’s comm. system began beeping, indicating an incoming message.

“Ask and ye shall receive.”

Oim Synn obese, but boyish face twinkled to life on the main comm. screen.

“Alright, sorry about that, boys. Karrde’s been covering his tracks particurlay well since the Fondor debacle and I had to engage in some double-dealing, but I’ve got him.”

“Where?”

“He and members of the Hutt resistance are apparently holding a get-together. Took even longer while my contact waited for them to revert to realspace, but they’re in the Junrana system. According to what I heard, some new fellow’s with them, too, quoting rules of acquiesce or something.

Despite the need for any and all information in a bounty hunt, Boba was tempted to dismiss this last piece of minutiae until he caught a glimpse of the intent look of interest upon Shinzon’s face.

“Was this ‘fellow’ orange-skinned with prominent cranial lobes and large ears.

“I don’t know about the lobes, but I can confirm the ear and skin colors.”

“A Ferengi,” muttered Shinzon. “Wonderful.”

“A what?”

“Never mind him, Synn. Allow me to examine this and the fees will be deposited in the usual account.”

“Always a pleasure, Boba.”

The comm. system went silent and Fett punched in the new hyperspace coordinates into the Slave V’s navicomputer.

“Well, next stop, Junrana.”

“How long a jump?’

“Another twenty hours.”

“Wonderful.”

“It’s alright; you’ve got twenty hours to tell me what a Ferengi is.”

***

Location: The Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe

The entity known as M moved out of the archway, carefully navigating around the still cooling head of the Organian Ayelbourne. “Such is the fate that befalls those who resist the Merging,” he repeated again as he closed the distance between the portal and the survivors of the GPQ’s attempt at playing Jame Gumb to their Clarice Starling.

“This is bad,” murmured the Apprentice, his weapon raised. But the Gardner bade him patience, as the Stranger stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his robes as he appraised M and the shocking development their situation

“Dare I ask what has become of the Emissary?” he asked at last.

“Sisko managed to teleport out before I could gut him properly – quite the slippery devil. Not that it truly matters in the long run; the Prophets are all going to die. I’ve already dispatched a number of others not directly connected to the Quintessence, but whom could pose a thread. Would you like to see the other trophy heads for my wall?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Of course, you’ll see it regardless once all of your heads are added to it.

“Not to put too fine a point, but I’m sure you’re aware of the consequences my death would entail, yes?”

“I am.”

“I see. Then why proceed with this course of action?

Cataclysm will herald the end and a new beginning shall be born out of that entropy.”

“Cataclysm is not entropy.”

M shrugged.

“To your perhaps, but to the M, we—”

“Alright, that’s it! That’s $@^& it!”

No one should have been surprised, but everyone was nonetheless as Q pushed his way to the forefront, his eyes screaming murder. This not merely artistic license or an invoking of a metaphor; his eyes were literally screaming “murder” at the renegade member of the Quintessence.

“The fire, the torture, the cheap exploitation of B-movies, and the two dozen ninjas were enough as it was. But you sir take the &^%@ cake, M. Well enough is enough!”

A look of fury mixed with determination was present on Q’s face as he brought his fingers together and with a snap, the deity was back in action. With said snap, he was suddenly clothed in a one-piece khaki uniform. Q was emblazoned on the front left pocket with red lining and a black backdrop. The letter M was set in the middle of a circle on his right shoulder. A red line slashed diagonally across it, connecting both sides of the emblem. On his back there was a massive metallic pack with blue, read, and yellow lights blinking on and off.

“Oh no,” muttered the Lady Q and q respectively.

But Q wasn’t finished. With another snap, three identical versions of himself, each clothed in a similar uniform, appeared in the trademark and patented Q-flash.

“Got your stick?”

The other three Q nodded as they removed the primary guns, designated neutrona wands by prop masters and the otaku culture of Earth’s twentieth century from the backpack.

“Holding it”

“Heat ‘em up!”

Dials were pulled and pushed as power surged from the packs into the wands.

‘Smokin’!”

Q grinned.

“Let’s rock this #!%&!”

Golden streams of energy with intertwining tendrils of blue lightning lanced forward from the tips of the neutrona wands and toward the smiling M. Without even raising his hand, the energy streams suddenly halted mere centimeters from his face. Q didn’t stop at this delay; if anything, he and his duplicates poured more and more energy into the neutrona wands, but to no avail. M’s face, meanwhile, had morphed into an expression that seemed to mix smugness with pitying.

“You are truly pathetic, Q. Even in the face of oblivion, you remain a second-rate conjurer who realizes his failures and cloaks them in attempts at arrogance and humor.”

“Look who’s talking, jackass.”

“I am still disappointed. Even with the GPQ’s corruption, the end of your Continuum, and the onset of the Merging, you still do not grasp the concept of how sacrifice ins required to insure a tomorrow and a cleansed creation. Allow me to enlighten you.”

The energy tendrils which had been struggling to cross the remaining gap of several centimeters suddenly resumed their movement. But instead of blasting the smug face of M into the fifth dimension – which Q noted was a tad redundant given that they were in the fifth dimension, at least after a fashion – they instead looped around and rebounded towards q.

Q instantly tried to cut power to the neutrona wands, but he was unable to. M was in control now. The smug bastard and he had been after one another since their two Continuums had come into their disastrous contact eons ago. And now he had played the most despicable card imaginable and it was all Q’s fault..

His son was going to die for his arrogance and for his sins.

***

Location: The Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“I am free! Free for my brothers and sisters to revenge upon he who has imprisoned me! To the Celestial Temple, to –”

He stopped suddenly, his head slowly oscillating towards Lumiya and her captives. The Cardassian’s nostrils flared open. Dukat began sniffing the air, further betraying its reptilian origins.

“Blood,” he said at last. “I smell the blood of a Sisko. Prophet-tainted blood,” he hissed, his glowing red eyes focusing on Kassidy, Jake, and young Rebecca, whose cries began anew at the terrifying creature who had beguiled her father for seven years and now threatened the children for the sins of the father.

“All in good time, dark one,” said Lumiya, blocking his path, one of the Orbs of Jalbador nestled in her hand. The Pah-Wraith starred down at the Sith, a look of disgust and pure fury etched upon his face.

“Who are you to dare touch our Orbs, whelp?”

“Lady Lumiya, Dark Lady of the Sith and your new custodian.”

“Custodian? Custodian?! What blasphemy do you dare waste our time with, whelp?"

“Ah,” Palas interjected, now maneuvering between the Sith Lady and the Pah-Wraith, “I know I’m a member of their club, but are you sure you want to antagonize him, my lady?”

Amojan Dukat gave Palas a single, emotionless glance. As if by magic, the monk was sent flying backwards, his fragile form crashing against the rocky wall of the Fire Cave. Lumiya’s gaze, however, remind focused on the Pah-Wraith.

“I do wish he isn’t dead; good help is hard to come by in such trouble times,” she stated in an almost conversional tone.

“You’d be surprised what you can live through,” came a groggy voice from the other side, indicating the monk was bruised and aching, but otherwise unharmed.

“I would not kill a loyal follower of the Pah-Wraiths so quickly. A whelp like you on the other hand, you think you can hide behind an Orb of Jalbador and protect yourself? They are ours to control, just as is this very flame”

Kosst Dukat raised his right hand and tendrils of flames gathered from the pit around him, the fire contorting around his fingers like snakes encircling their prey. With barely a flicker of his wrist, the fire jumped out at the Dark Lady of the Sith.

How reminiscent of Force Lightning…

Of course, she wouldn’t know. Her cybernetic prosthetics, like Vader before her, prevented her from utilizing one of the most infamous Dark Side attacks, but didn’t mean that she wasn’t proficient in other aspects of the Sith and their tutelage.

She waited for it, for the stunned reaction upon his face. According to the logs of Gilad Pellaeon, Grand Admiral Thrawn had received a similar look from Joruus C’baoth when ysalamiri had deflected his own Force lightning during Thrawn’s assessment of the Mount Tantiss facility on Wayland.

“How can a whelp, even of such dark pagh, dare to and be capable of wielding an Orb of the Pah-Wraiths?”

“It’s not the work of an Orb of Jalbador, Dark One, oh no. Your service to me is ordained by a far higher power, one that requires the will and vision of the Pah-Wraiths.”

“And what of this power,” came a faint voice from the side. Luke Skywalker was alive, if barely. But his eyes shone with determination as the Grand Master of the Jedi Order tried to raise his drained form from its sprawled state.

“I sense great pagh in this one,” observed Dukat.

“Luke Skywalker, Kosst Amojan of the Pah-Wraiths. Kosst Amojan, Jedi Master Skywalker,” Lumiya stated.

“Jedi?”

“A pale reflection of the Sith, a chaos to the order of the cleansing fire that this universe demands, that Merging is making possible and through which the Pah-Wraiths will pledge themselves or risk destruction.”

Despite his faituge, Luke was slowly shaking his head, disbelief etched among his tired features.

“Lumiya, Callista or whoever the hell you’ve become, do you have any idea of what you’ve done here?"

“Yes. I’m helping to save the universe from itself.”

“Palpatine thought much the same when he murdered countless people to form his little Sith Empire,” Luke spat back. Lumiya regarded him coldly, then her face regain a clam, almost emotionless expression.

“I am nothing like Palpatine, Skywalker and it simply isn’t due to my inability to use Force Lightning. Palpatine was focused only on the galaxy; he couldn’t see the proverbial forrest for the trees. Let us view all of creation as a forest, Skywalker. A cleansing fire is always needed to purify and restore the balance of the forest. The Sith now serve the purpose of custodians of this basic universal urge and I am helping to bring about that

“I take it back. You’re nothing like Palpatine. You’re even more insane.”

“You’d better listen to him, sweetheart,” came a voice from behind the grouping. All eyes and heads turned. Framed in the entrance of the Fire caves, four separate lightsabers and BlasTech blaster drawn, stood Kyp Durron, Zekk, Lowbacca, Saba Sebatyne, and Han Solo.

“Mind if we drop in?”

***

To be Continued…
***

AUTHOR NOTES* The Shaper vaa-tumor first appeared in Greg Keyes’ “Edge of Victory I: Conquest”.

* Kae Kwadd was the alias adopted by the Shamed One Onimi and first appeared in Grey Keyes “Edge of Victory II: Rebirth”.

* The truth behind the Tomed Incident can, again, be found in David. R. George III’s “The Serpents Among the Ruins”

* Nechayev’s final line is a tribute to Maxwell Lord’s closing line from the 2005 “Countdown to Infinite Crisis” one-shot.

* Interviews with the ENT production staff confirm that the organization seen in Season 4’s “Divergence” and “Affliction” was meant to be an early version of Section 31.

* Jeffrey Lang’s DS9 Re-launch novel “Abyss” showed Vaughn knows of and has clashed with Section 31 on occasion.

* The Jame Gumb and Clarice Starling metaphor is of course a reference to “The Silence of the Lambs”.

* Q’s ‘last stand’ is meant to parody the battle against the demonic Gozer in "Ghotbusters".

* Again, the M and their first contact with the Q is detailed in Peter David’s and John deLancie’s “I,Q”.

* The inability of either Lumiya or Vader to use Force Lightning was explored in James Luceno’s “Dark Lord: The Rise of Darth Vader” and Aaron Allston’s “Legacy of the Force: Betrayal”.

ZOMG! It lives! And now to read it...

Edit: Very nice. But then again what is Dukat doing with the red orbs? As I recall the pah-wraiths of the fire caves hate the pah-wraith of jalbador and vice versa.

Crazedwraith wrote:ZOMG! It lives! And now to read it...

Edit: Very nice. But then again what is Dukat doing with the red orbs? As I recall the pah-wraiths of the fire caves hate the pah-wraith of jalbador and vice versa.

Ah, heh, oops. Well, I guess it could be seen as cabin fever; after all, these guys have been cooped up in the caves for how long? And anyway, I have plans for Dukat/Amojan that will not involve the Red Orbs.

It's back. Excellent. I was just wondering when you'd continue this the other day.

Now what about the JLA/Nadia crossover?

Trogdor wrote:Now what about the JLA/Nadia crossover?

Not the immediate priority list, but I'll get back to it soon.

[Mr. Burns]Excellent[/Mr. Burns]

Why so silent, good Monsieurs?/
Did you think that I had left you for good?/
Have you missed me, good Monsieurs?/
I have written you an opera./
Here, I bring the finished score./
Don Juan Triumphant!/
...

Or, as it has been said before, you wanted it? You've got it!

Disclaimer: Star Trek created by Gene Roddenberry and owned by Paramount Pictures. Star Wars created by George Lucas and owned by 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:

1. This chapter contains possible spoilers for “Legacy of the Force: Betrayal”

2. For your full musical enjoinment this chapter, I suggest the following tracks:

* Battle with the Forces of Evil (Sleeping Beauty)
* Earth Resonance (Earth Maiden Arjuna)
* One-Winged Angel (Final Fantasy: Advent Children version)
* Tarawa (Snow Falling on Cedars)
* The Battle (The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe)

3. If all goes according to plan, then only two chapters more will be needed to close the curtain on Act II. Regardless of when it ends, Act II’s conclusion will propel us into Act III and the home stretch. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the story’s new home in Fanfiction.net’s Crossover rather than Star Trek section and that you’re having a good summer. Other than that, sit back and enjoy the continuing adventure....

***

Act II, Part XVIII

“We must overact our part in some measure, in order to produce any effect at all.”

- Dante Alighieri -

***

Location: Starfleet Command
San Francisco, Earth, Sol System, Alpha Quadrant

In the final six months of the Dominion War, the Dominion had stunned the entire quadrant by successfully courting the Breen Confederacy into their war effort. It was a development none had seen coming; the Breen’s penchant for isolation and internal focus rivaled that of the Romulan Star Empire. As such, Starfleet hadn’t known exactly how to respond to the Dominion’s newest ally. It was this uncertainty that had set the stage for one of the most daring and audacious attacks in galactic history.

The Breen managed to sneak a small task-force into the Sol System and launch an orbital bombardment on the San Francisco Bay Area and with it, Starfleet Headquarters. Admiral Nyota Uhura had not been in the building that day, instead conducting an inspection of Starfleet Communications on the other side of the Golden Gate. By the time she had made it back, the damage had been done.

The sense of déjà vu was sickening as Uhura surveyed the burning remains of not only the Tactical Preparation theater, but Starfleet Command as a whole. Images of footage form the Xindi attack on the southwestern North America continent flashed in her mind as she processed the crater that had been the TPT, the smoke choking the air and visibility, and the sound of dead of dying personnel.

Amazingly, none of the assembled Admirals – Aakar, Paris, and more – had received more than a scratch or several bruises or cuts. Their savior stood atop another mound of rubble, his eyes were closed, his hands raised above his head. Several chunks of tritanium reinforced concrete and rubble, ranging from miniscule to several feet thick, floated almost lazily in an arc. He was rummaging through the rubbles, pointing out and attempting to rescue other trapped Command Personnel.

Whatever doubt Uhura may still have harbored towards the denizens of the New Republic’s galaxy was at least partially allayed by the selflessness of Kyle Katarn. He had braved Starfleet Security and risked his own life to save theirs from the Borg Strike, holding back the fire and building collapse with his mystical ‘Force’.

She wasn’t the only one that held similar feelings. L.J. Akaar, now coming around from a minor bump and perceiving their savior, simply straightened his uniform and glanced down at the Jedi Knight who from his perspective was half a head shorter – the result of the average Capellan height and biology.”

“Thank you, Mr. Katarn,” Akaar said at least in his crisp and to the point manner. The former mercenary turned Jedi opened his eyes, glancing up at the Capellan Admiral. A hint of a smile slowly blossomed on his face.

“No problem, Admiral. Mind over matter, as they –”

Katarn’s speech halted and his eyes widened. Akaar frowned.

“What are you –“

“Get down!”

For the second time in many hours, Katarn yelled the same words. And just as with last time, fire rained down from above. But this time, it was not the fire of a Borg energy discharge or even a Breen disruptor as had been four years earlier. This time, the multiple lances of energy that slammed into Katarn’s back were the familiar amber beams of Starfleet weaponry.

Had Katarn not been levitating the rubble of the TPT, he may have had a chance to reach for his trademark weapon and ignite its vibrant blade, to deflect the beams of death that targeted him. Even with the levitation, he probably could have, for it seemed impossible that one of the most skilled mercenaries and spies in the New Republic could fall to a squad of elite Starfleet marines.

But sooner or later, the odds caught up; they always did, as the Solo and Skywalker clans had learned with the death of the Wookie Chewbacca two years earlier and this time was no exception for Kyle Katarn. The Jedi Knight fell and the rubble that his telekinesis has kept floating was released, caught once more in the grip of gravity. Akaar scrambled to avoid the oncoming barrage, but was knocked unconscious by a stray piece of concrete.

“Leonard!”

Uhura began to pivot towards the fallen Capellan, but found half of the phaser rifles now trained at her and the other Admirals. As the rubble settled, fully armored Starfleet Marines and other security forces stood atop the crater and began moving to secure the area.

”What in the hell are you –”

“Move a muscle and we’ll roast you.”

Granted, there was her part in the ‘Enterprise Seven’ debacle, i.e. the theft of the old 1701 from Spacedock, the illegal trip to Genesis, and of course, sabotaging the Excelsior. But that was nearly a century past and all charges had been dropped after stopping the . These marines hadn’t even

“I may remind you that I am a higher ranking officer and that both speaking to me in such a manner, not to mention ignoring the plight of injuries Starfleet personnel all around us constitutes criminal acti—”

“Can it. Medical teams are already rounding up survivors; you may be lucky enough to see them at the detention facilities or the trial.”

“Detention facilities? Trial?”

Uhura began to question the mental state of this soldier and Admiral Paris shared a similar sentiment.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“You and your Jedi ‘savior’ are all under arrest for charges of conspiracy and treason against the United Federation of Planets.”

Incredulity spread across the faces of all assembled.

“On who’s authority?!”

“Admiral Nechayev’s.”

***

U.S.S. Enterprise-E
En Route to Coruscant

“Dammit, can’t we go any faster?”

Janeway was barely restrained and it wasn’t just the unfamiliarity of the Enterprise’s chair of command compare to her old chair on Voyager. She was almost on the edge of her feet, every iota of attention focused on the viewscreen and the swirling, seemingly endless green maw that was a Borg Transwarp conduit. The helmsman, Mr. Katanga, shook his head.

“We do not even know where this transwarp conduit leads, Admiral.”

“I’m also not keen on pushing the engines that far,” LaForge chimed in from Engineering. The background was rife with the sound of overtaxed and half-repaired engineering systems. “Even with the repairs, Enterprise is still in delicate shape. It’s crazy enough as it is chasing that Borg fleet to -- well, where ever there is."

“Mr. LaForge, my orders stand. Is that understood?”

There was a long silence, further adding to Janeway’s annoyance and fears regarding the legitimatecy and righteousness of this gambit.

“Mr. LaForge,” she asked again, perhaps more forcibly then necessary. The engineer finally responded.

“Understood, Admiral. We’ll do what we can do here short of burning deuterium. LaForge out.”

The channel closed and the Admiral sighed. She again had to remind herself that this was not Voyager, that this was not her crew. The Doctor was on Coruscant, fighting to secure the Alliance’s future. Tom was still field-testing experimental Starfleet craft, B'Elanna was somewhere in the Klingon Empire. Chakotay was probably dead, killed by the Borg bastards while defending one of the Federation’s most deadly enemies, a fate likely shared by Seven as well. And of course, Neelix had chosen to stay behind with his people in the Delta Quadrant.

All she had now was Tuvok, manning the tactical station usually belonging to Enterprise’s Mr. Worf. As it had all those years ago, it again struck her as odd seeing a Vulcan of all people manning a weapons console and commanding instruments of death. But Tuvok was like a island of stoicism and dedication in the sea of chaos that she had thrown the mutinous Starfleet armada into not two hours earlier.

The Enterprise and the task force had emerged through the wormhole into a Naboo system under siege. However, barely any of the Collective’s vessels, and those were primarily clustered around the Transwarp Hub. Several of the smaller vessels, primarily Assimilators and Interceptors, patrolled the system. According to survivors, they had engaged and destroyed most of the Naboo Defense Force, then proceeded through a specific transwarp aperture that had remained open.

Janeway was disturbed by the lack of any Cubes both within the patrol and within the vicinity of the Hub. If this Neo-Borg Collective was intent on launching a campaign of assimilation against the New Republic and Yuuzhan Vong, then this token force made no sense. Their safety and continued operation of both the wormhole and the transwarp hub would make securing the Naboo system a tactical necessity.

As such, the Gormenghast and several other ships, most notably three Iwo Jima-class troop ships had been left behind to attempt to secure the main planet while the task force had run the gauntlet. Amazingly, no shots had been fired. It was as if the Borg hadn’t noticed. Granted, this was typical of Borg behavior; unless there was any sign of overt hostility, the intruders would be ignored.

But considering that Janeway had just led seven-hundred ships worth of phaser arrays, pulse phaser cannons, and torpedoes launchers through the hub and into the swirling maw, the Borg’s lack of response was not only untypical and out of character, but even a tad frightening. She knew that whatever lay on the other side of the conduit was any number of hells and wondered again why she had proceeded with such a risk.

This was perhaps the greatest risk she had taken since she had made the decision to destroy the Caretaker’s Array and spare the Ocampa from the Kazon’s wrath. She didn’t like this. She was sick and tired of risk, of throwing the dice and attempting to claim the board for the ultimate prize. She had risked the safety of the Ocampan people over her own crew, a crew that she had in effect stolen seven years from and was now dispersed to the winds. She had made it home only to have sociopaths and nitpickers like Alynna Nechayev spit on all the crew of Voyager had accomplished and all they had scarified.

The beeping of the tactical and sensor boards brought Janeway out of her confrontations with her doubts and demons.

“Admiral, Long-range sensors and probes confirm that we are coming to the exit aperture,” Tuvok said. Janeway had ordered probes fired from the Enterprise and several other Starfleet vessels as they had entered the Hub as a precaution. They had staid ahead of the fleet and had performed this task flawlessly.

‘About time,” muttered Janeway. “Mr. Katanga, if you would?”

“Aye, Admiral. Emerging in three…two…one…Reversion to – oh my God!”

Janeway shared the sentiment as the maw of the transwarp conduit swept open to reveal a conflagration that defied all imagination. The Republic’s data tapes had shown the Federation and Starfleet the wonders of Coruscant, perhaps the first true ecumenopolis, or city-planet, that Starfleet or anyone in the Federation had ever seen.

And it was also burning.

Space surrounding the capital was a strangely hypnotic, yet terrifying blaze and maelstrom of explosions, laser fire, and movements – all courtesy of the Neo-Borg Collective. Borg Interceptors weaved in and out of space lanes, pursuing or being pursed by all manner of Republic snubfighter. Cubes and Corellian and Kuati-built cruisers exchanged disruptor and turbolaser fire at point blank range. Flaming hunks of tritanium, transparisteel blew apart from the barrage, tumbling into the void and adding to the miasma and chaos that had settled on the galactic capital.

Assimilators and their assimilation beams lanced out at ships of every kind, punching through the shields of both military and civilian vessels. By culling individual life forms, they were then beamed to assimilation chambers either on board the ship itself or elsewhere in the fleet, if Seven’s stories and data following her ‘liberation’ from the Borg six years earlier were correct. Janeway shuddered to think what would happen when if those beams were turned on the capital planet and what chance, if any, the planetary shields had in

From an initial glance, it didn’t appear that the Borg were adapting entirely to the Republic’s turbolaser and blaster technology yet – though they had been given a two-month head start to analyze and strategize , but that didn’t matter. Even without assimilation and adaptation, the Borg Cubes were normally designed to withstand a seemingly impossible amount of punishment – Species 8472 being a prime exception to this. Even with all there capital vessels, cruisers, gunships, mines, and fighters, the Borg were everywhere at once and overwhelming.

Her earlier annoyance and impatience now blossomed into a full-blown fury. Fury at herself, at her future self for failing to destroy the Collective on her suicide mission two years earlier –

“What are your orders, Admiral?”

No. She had supported her future counterpart’s risky endeavor, even though they had both known its likelihood of succeeding was nil. But Janeway was sick and tired of risking one life for another.

“Admiral?”

Yet I must step once more into uncertainty.

“Mr. Tuvok,” she said at last, “Open a channel to the fleet. Make sure it’s on New Republic channels as well.”

“Aye. Channels open.”

“This is Admiral Kathryn Janeway of the United Federation of Planets and acting command of the U.S.S. Enterprise-E. To all Federation starships, render aid to as many New Republic vessels as possible.”

She signaled Tuvok to close the channel.

“Mr. Katanga, bring us alongside the nearest Borg vessel; have the Majestic and Laputa flank us. I also want fighters from the Shogei Maru flying cover.. Mr. Tuvok, target said vessel from all available weapons ports and blow it to hell. Mr. LaForge, I’ll need all the power you can give me.”

“Will do what we can, Admiral. LaForge out.”

The Enterprise’s engines surged with plasma and lifeblood, propelling the mighty Soverigen-class cruiser forward, reinforcements behind it and ready to make war. Like the armada that had bravely run the Dominion blockade of the Bajor during Operation Return, Starfleet had now entered the playing field.

***

Location: Cardassian Warship Trager
En Route to Cardassia Prime

Aside from their belligerence and tenacity to hunt in packs, the Cardassians were well-renown for the art of the conversation. Some had even found them to be too conversational. It was no single fault or failing; the average Cardassian simply liked to talk.

Macet had been a kind and gracious host – certainly not the typical dog of the Cardassian military that had been portrayed outside of the Protectorate’s borders. Despite the fragmentation of the Union and the almost non-existent budget towards maintaining he Starfleet-approved fleet, Trager was well maintained

The Kanar had loosened his tongue has the dinner had proceeded, though he had not made any insidious advances. Macet had spoken highly of the Cardassian duty to family and marriage and prided himself on not having taken any comfort women during the Occupation.

“Ms. Skywalker?”

“Huh?”

“We were discussing possible geopolitical effects of this wormhole on the Protectorate. You after all are the only leading expert I or any Cardassian to my knowledge has come into contact with.”

“Yes, ah, Forgive me, Gul Macet. I…I for a moment felt a stirring through the Force.”

“Fascinating. You know, your descriptions of the Force remind me of the Bajorans and their beliefs of the pagh, which while many Cardassians shunned the beliefs of the…”

He continued on, but the former Emperor’s Hand had tuned him out. Something had happened, she could feel it. But she remembered her mission. The Orbs had to be located and quickly. With them, then perhaps this insanity could finally reach its conclusion. Perhaps then could the threat of the Yuuzhan Vong be pushed back, perhaps then she could finally live her life out in peace with her son and husband. The thought of the latter caused her to reach out to him through their Force Bond.

Skywalker, if you can hear me, I hope all’s well on Bajor.

***

Location: The Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

“Put him down, now!”

Han, Kyp, Zekk, Lowbacca, and Saba all stood framed in the entrance of the Fire caves, four separate lightsabers and BlasTech blaster drawn. While all had looks of shocked recognition etched upon their faces, none so was greater than Han’s.

It was understandable, though. Kyp and the others had not come into the game until after the major events of the Galactic Civil War. And for all their differences, Lumiya was on both the New Republic and the New Jedi Order’s Wanted Lists for her crimes. Yet, the others had only heard of her; Han had met the Dark Lady of the Sith, or at least Shira Brie.

Lumiya just snorted and glared at the arrival of the Corellian and his associates. She remembered Solo as well and was not in the least bit surprised to see that even the passing of almost thirty years and the death of his co-pilot had not purged him of his cocky exterior and indifference to the terror which he was about the subject both himself and his Jedi posse.

Such comes of dealing with the Sith.

“The insufferable smuggler and a few merry men --”

“—who are about to knock you into the next life like we did with your reborn master,” Han retorted, though there was a tad of shock behind his smug expression, one shared by Kyp as well. This was clearly Lumiya, but the voice appeared to be that of Callista, or at least Cray Mingla, who had given her body to save Callista’s spirit. Lumiya’s own expression shifted from one of quaint bemusement to one of annoyance and incredulity.

“You people never cease to amaze me. You take down one Sith or Dark Jedi, you think you can handle them all.”

They hadn’t been the first, nor would they be the last. Lumiya knew from scattered records she had recovered here – records formerly belonging to the deceased Emperor – had shown that Skywalker’s first master, the fool Kenobi, had shown a similar attitude following the death of Darth Maul on Naboo and prior to the engagement of Lord Tyranus on both Genosis and later aboard the Invisible Hand.

“Well let’s see, we’ve stopped Vader, Palpatine, Kueller, Brakiss, Gethzerion and her Nightsisters – you name it, we’ve blasted ‘em.”

“Hardly. And in the matter of the Nightsisters, was it not Warlord Zsinj that dispatched Gethzerion and her ilk?”

This is was technichally true. It had been a barrage from two of Zsinj’s Star Destroyers that had destroyed the Nightsister’s commandered shuttle and prevented the terror of Dathomir from spreading to the rest of the galaxy. Han hadn’t wept, not after the hell that witch had put him and Leia through and merely shrugged it off.

“Details, details. The score’s still in our favor, lady.”

“Smart Han, real smart; antagonize her more,” grumbled Luke from the far side of the cavern.

”You okay, Luke?”

“No, I’m not.”

That much was true.

“Well don’t worry, we’ve got it under control, kid.”

Skywalker’s head shook in weariness.

“Han, you fool. Get out of here!”

***

Location: Bothan Assualt Crusier Ralroost
In Orbit of Coruscant

“Give me plasma flux to starboard defense screens,” bellowed Admiral Krey’Fey as Ralroost shuddered, this time more violently than should have been possible for his flagship. Kre’Fey had an ominous feeling that structural integrity alarms would be going off any comment now. A moment later, his suspicions were confirmed by one of the bridge crewmembers.

“Bridge shields are buckling. SIF failing on decks five, six, and eight!”

Just wonderful.

The problem with the Bothan Assault Cruisers was that in keeping with Bothan mentality, they were far more suited towards offensive rather than defensive action. Of course, given that the design had been approved and rushed into production following the near disastrous Caamas Document incident, the Bothan Admiral couldn’t blame their desire for a quick-action, mobile weapons platform.

Unfortunately, quick action wasn’t stopping the three Borg Interceptors weaving in and out of Ralroost’s line of fire and the remains of their fighter escort. Kre’Fey’s thoughts flashed back to Ithor a year and a half earlier when a Yuuzhan Vong coralskipper had almost rammed through the bridge. With SIF damage and the buckling of bridge shields, it was all too possible and likely that Borg would succeed where the Yuuzhan Vong had failed.

At least I’ll be able to see my grandfather Laryn again, though I’ll regret seeing Bothawui one last time..

Fortunately, this hope and this regret were not to be, at least not yet. Lances and dots of copper energy suddenly flashed pass the starboard shield and instantly vaporized two of the kamikaze Borg craft. The third fired off its own lance before breaking off its suicide

Kre’Fey watched in amazement as three fighters of non-Republic design as well as three disks swept past the starboard transparisteel viewport. And emblazoned on the largest disk, for all eyes to see, was a language that the Bothan had only recently been exposed to, but which he recognized.

U.S.S. ENTERPRISE 1701-E.

“Admiral, we’re being hailed by the Enterprise.”

“Patch it through.”

A moment later, the technician confirmed the connection and Kre’Fey was the first to speak.

“Greetings, Admiral Janeway.”

“Thank you, Admiral Kre’Fey. What’s your status?”

“We’re in need of an escort, Ralroost and the Capital is falling apart. Other than that, all’s well.”

“Who’s in charge of the planetary defense? Sien Sovv?

“Essentially it’s down to him and myself, with a couple of others along for the ride. There are even rumors of Ackbar on his way from Mon Cal.”

“What about Bel Iblis?”

“Was part of the fleet helping to guard the Transwarp Hub and Naboo. We haven’t seen either him or Peregrine since then.”

“We weren’t in Naboo long, but we didn’t seen the wreckage of a Dreadnaught either, so there’s a chance he’s still alive.”

“Hmm. I wouldn’t believe the old warhorse was dead unless I saw it with my own eyes. Are Antilles and Celchu with you?”

“They’re still on…assignment. Even if we had time, we couldn’t raise them.”

That meant Antilles and Celchu were leading the small Republic contingent of the Romulan Neutral Zone conflict.

“Pity; we could have used the new weaponry on the Mon Mothma. So you’ve been chasing this fleet since Naboo?”

“Since Sector 001. They…hit San Francisco. Starfleet Headquarters is gone, Admiral.”

“Indeed?”

There was a silence for a moment.

“Admiral Kre’Fey, do you believe me to be deceiving you about the Borg and the destruction of our Command?”

“Admiral Janeway, all I know is that in less than four hours, one of our main allies showed their colors and turned their ships and weapons against the New Republic Captial. Couple this with the recent accusations against your Captain Picard and some sort of Federation covert group, Section 31, mean that others won’t—”

“Wait, wait, slow down. Did you say Section 31?!”

Before he could respond, the communications board pinged.

“NRMOC for you, sir,” said the technician.

“Speak of the devil beast,” sighed Kre’Fey.

“What is it? Section 31?”

“Nom those who wouldn’t think to believe you. NRMOC is hailing me. It appears politics are about to enter the fray – again.”

***

Location: The Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

There was a desperation in Luke’s voice that Han had only heard on a few occasions and it instantly sent chills up both his spine and the spines of the Jedi posse. Luke, while not emotionally cold and hard as nails, was still noteworthy for his calmness and keeping his fear and despair tempered. Such traces of desperation within his cry spoke volumes towards the graveness of the matter.

It meant that Lumiya herself was bad enough, but the ugly fellow behind her was probably worse. Indeed, Han heard gaps from Saba, Zekk, Kyp, and Lowbacca gasp, sensing the awesome power and aura that radiated off of Amjan’s corporeal form.

“You may wish to listen to your beloved Grand Master, you weak, pathetic fools. You face more than just a Dark Lady of the Sith,” she stated quietly, but with force and rising tension as she gestured to the Cardassian behind her.

“Kosst Amojan, if you would please?”

The Pah-Wraith possessed Cardassian just starred at the Sith.

“I am not at your beck and call, whelp.”

Sighing, Lumiya’s eyes narrowed and she made a motion with her hands. Instantly, a strange feeling overcame Amojan, seeping through pathways and cogs both organic and ethereal, reptilian and non-corporeal. He was compelled to raise his hands, the flame of the Pah-Wraiths bursting into brilliance and growing steadily until both pillars threatened to engulf his mortal frame.

“Hallowed is the power of the Pah-Wraiths,” a now conscious Palas observed aloud as he dove behind an outcropping of stalagmites. While he had been willing and capable to do the work of immortals, he knew there was a time for work and a time for getting the hell out of the way.

“Take them down, now!” Durron yelled, but as the other Jedi prepared to move, the distinct snap-hiss of a lightsaber sounded. Instantly, a crimonson tendril of energy flashed through the air and narrowly missed the Knights and Masters. The Jedi saw Lumiya moving to block their path, the tendril emanating from a silver cylinder clutched in her right hand.

“In your place, children,” Lumiya snapped, brandishing her long-time favored weapon, the lightwhip. Similar to a lightsaber, the lightwhip emitted a coherent beam of energy. However, the blade was long and flexible and wielded like a standard whip as could be found in both galaxies.

Kyp frowned and charged . To his astonishement, his blade didn’t even halt the tendril, as was normally a given when two lightsaber blades made contact with each other. Her weapon had been constructedfrom a shard of the Kaiburr crystal and Mandalorian iron and had been specially modified to include both energy and matter in its emission. Luke had learned this nearly to his demise years earlier and it had only been the well-placed aim and brandishing of the rarer Jedi weapon, the light-dagger, that had allowed him to carry the duel.

That, of course, was nearly twenty years removed from the present circumstanses. Kyp or any of the others possessed such a countermeasure and Lumiya had progressed much from the untested Dark Side assassin that Vader had forged her into without Sidious’ knowledge – or Palpatine; technichally, Sidious was the correct name of the late Emperor, but it always felt more correct in addressing him by his Nubian name.

The tendril continued unabated, slicing him through the abdomen. Durron fell with a cry, his hand clutching his mid-section, droplets of blood and other fluids pooling on the rocky floor of the rocky floor. Before the other three Jedi could take up the charge, the charge that Dukat/Amojan had been building up finally erupted. A ring of Pah-Wraith fire shot forward and settleed around the fallen Durron and his backup.

“Thiz one is not intimdated by your flames,” hissed Saba as she coruched into a running jump. The Barbael’s attempt to escape the ring of fire, however, failed, as she slamed into what appeared to be an insiivble dome capping the ring. The Jedi fell back, knocked out cold. Dukat laughed darkly.

“This is our domain, Jedi. You will got no further,” the Pah Wraith chieftan growled, clearly not happy at his coercement in this affair. Yet, after the dregs of imprionment and Winn Adami being the last thing their flames had consumed – exlcuding the Emissaries of the Prophets and the Pah-Wraiths respectively – he could not help but enjoy the drama unfolding beneath Bajor’s surface.

“I’ll admit that’s a cute light show. But mine’s better,” Han yelled as his blaster’s nozzle was aimed directly as the possessed Cardassian’s left eye socket, the bolt released even as he spoke. Unfortunately, while such packets of charged energy are normally useful and Han’s aim true, Solo was overlooking one, slight detail. The Corellian was firing at an immortal, at a being for whom the manipulation of time was as possible and as easy as moving a mountain.

So, it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone, least of all the Jedi, when the three blaster shots stopped a meter from their intended target.

“Strong words for a, whelp,” said Dukat. And with barely a blink of his eyes, the three bolts reversed course along their arc towards Captain Solo. Han dove from a rebound eerily similar to Vader’s deflection of his blaster bolts at Bespin all those years ago. Dukat/Amojan followed up this initial barrage with two additional fire blasts from his inferno. Han

“I’m getting too old for this Sithswpan,” Han muttered.

“My ears are burning, Captain Solo,” said Lumiya, who was watching Solo’s running of the gauntlet with detached interest. She had taken up a seat in the arena, so to speak, besides the still-bound Siskos, specifically Jake.

“Bring back any memories?” she asked rather innocently.

“Some,” Jake responded darkly, memories of two dark times flowing through his mind. The first was of the alternate timeline that they had been thrown into, where the Pah-Wraiths had become the dominant religion of not only Bajor, but the entire Alpha Quadrant. Their actions had very nearly caused Armageddon and the erasure of that timeline did little to quell the uneasiness in Jake’s memories and dreams. And of course, the second recollection was just as, if not more, insidious. He had severed as Amojan’s vessel during the False Reckoning aboard DS9 towards the end of 2374.

“Still coutning on your father to save you all?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, if all has gone according to plan, then your father should be dead.”

Jake just starred ahead at Solo and the other Jedi’s attempts to break through the Pah-Wraith’s ring of fire, their lightsaber’s smashing down upon the flames. There was an expression of defiance and confidence etched upon his face.

“I don’t believe you. Why should I believe a Sith?”

Lumiya shrugged.

“Fine, then. Continue to cling to your delusions. But make no mistake that your father’s death wasn’t accidental. None of what has occurred on the playing fields of these two galaxies is. Everything that has unfolded here has been predetermined.

“Does that include this?”

Lumiya frowned at the voice, her hand on the hilt on her lightwhip as the Dark Lady turned –

-- as something green violently sliced into her right arm, sending sparks flying into the air. The lightwhip went flying in to the air, crashing into the rocky cavern floor and rolling for several moments before finally stopping. The crimson tendrils were still crackling, Lumiya’s right hand gripped along its hilt. Lumiya fell to her knees, shock and disbelief burning in her eyes as she gazed first at the stump of her arm and then up at her attacker.

Standing above her, slightly unsteady, but with green lightsaber in hand, was Luke Skywalker.

***

To Be Continued…

***

Notations
* The Enterprise navigator, while unnamed in previous chapters, is a tribute to the freighter captain from “Raiders of the Lost Ark”

* The Iwo-Jima-class troopships again first appeared in the RTS game “Star Trek: Armada II”.

* The Starfleet vessel Laputa is another tribute to the world of anime, specifically the film “Castle in the Sky”.

* Gethzerion and the Nightsisters first appeared in “The Courtship of Princess Leia” by Dave Wolverton.

* I have just discovered that I have been misspelling Admiral Kre’Fey’s last name wrong for most, if not all of this fic. For this I apologize; future updates will correct this.

* Janeway has been aware of Section 31’s existence since the VGR novel “Section 31: Shadow” by Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch.

* “Legacy of the Force: Betrayal” shows that Lumiya was aware of Palpatine’s Sith name (information possibly passed on by the Jedi Vergere if Lumiya’s story is to be believed). It is thus reasonable to assume that she might also know the Sith identities of both Maul and Dooku.

* Palas’ “Hallowed” comment is a stab at the blessings of the Ori from Stargate SG-1’s ninth season onwards.

Awesome! I think you're the only author around who actually offers a soundtrack to go with the chapter, and they work, too!

But, I noticed that a few sentences seemed to cut off in the middle, you might want to look into those.

Incredible fic. I stumbled across this a few weeks ago, and read all of it in two days. We need more!!

Yay. More.

And I still don't think anyone has commented on your tribute to Mengsk .

More soon. Me like good fanfic.

Thanks for the replies. It's almost funny you should reply now. This semester has killed my free time (20 units, but to due to a community service requirement, it's been closer to 24) and finals have been no exception. But, with everything all but finished come Saturday, I've got a mind to try to updaye/post new chapters and stories, as well as the latest revamped BOBW sig.

How's that old tune go again? Oh yeah.

Why so silent, good Monsieurs?/
Did you think that I had left you for good?/
Have you missed me, good Monsieurs?/
I have written you an opera./
Here, I bring the finished score./
Don Juan Triumphant!/
...

Or, as it has been said before, you wanted it? You've got it!

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

Star Trek/Star Wars: The Best of Both Worlds

Authors Notes: I am so, so very sorry for the long delay. Honestly, I feel like Mark Millar, Bryan Hitch, and The Ultimates. This semester has been hell and has affected so many aspects of my life, but it’s finally over. And to celebrate, it’s time to join that epic struggle once again with a late Christmas Present.

Musical Notes: For your enjoyment, I recommend the following tracks:

* “Tarawa” from Snow Falling on Cedars
* “Revival of Alseides” from Escaflowne: The Movie
* “Chain” from The Vision of Escaflowne
* “So Long Superman” from Superman Returns

***

Act II, Part XIX

“Thou wilt not with predestined evil round. Enmesh, and then impute my fall to sin!”
- Edward Fitzgerald –

***

Location: U.S.S. Titan
En Route to the Romulan Neutral Zone

While the morale and comfort of armed and naval forces was always a priority, the quality of their quarters and living space had always varied throughout every era, from the chaotic days of Xim the Despot to the heyday of the Imperial Empire. Jaina Solo had to give the Federation credit; they certainly knew how to make their crews and officers comfortable – perhaps too comfortable.

It wasn’t as if Jaina was complaining about the luxuries of home. Running water, instant food and cuisine of any kind, and the marvelous wonder known as the Holodeck. It was like having Hologram Fun World in your own backyard. But comfort bred laziness and while the Federation was capable of defending itself, it made the Solo’s daughter uneasy.

Still, Jaina wasn’t complaining as she returned from the Titan’s hanger – correction, shuttle bay, she noted. Her X-Wing, and her astromech Cappie – named in honor of the Rogue who had fallen at Duro to Shedo Shai’s forces – were stowed safely along with Jag’s Clawcraft. Rogue Squadron was still operating out of Mon Mothma, but Wedge had wanted Jaina and Jag to have their vehicles on hand just in case Titan needed defending.

And based on what she and Jag had spent most of the trip out her researching, they were going to need it. The Romulans sounded like bad business and while this would be her first time she would see one – or more likely, engage – she had learned enough to know that the Romulan’s silence during this trying time was somewhat disturbing.

True, the Romulans kept to themselves and with the apparent coup, a lack of activity to external observation might seem understandable. But to not react to something like this, it just felt…wrong. True, Jag had pointed out that the Ascendancy hadn’t done anything to interfere with the Clone Wars or Galactic Civil War – though certain dissident or exiled elements such as Sev'rance Tann, Vandalor, and of course, Thrawn, had left their mark on both the Separatist and Imperial governments – and Jag, too.

Even she had to admit she had been fascinated by the son of Baron Soontir Fel since he had appeared in Ithor during the first year of the war. That calm posture, the scarred face, the streak of white in his black, crisp hair…In many ways, they were similar. He had trained most of his life to be part of the Syndic, to earn the respect and exceed the aspirations of his Chiss superiors and their beliefs. She had aspired to follow in her Uncle’s steps, to wield the flame of the Force against any forces of darkness

Yet they both sacrificed so much to attain their life pursuits. It wasn’t as if she hated her uncle for involving her with the Jedi, far from it.. Luke had helped stopped the Empire, and of course, had helped bring her parents together. And if that had not happened, she would not even exist. But she and her brothers had all been forced to grow up too quickly after Sernpidal, after Chewbacca’s death, after Mara’s illness. She had lost so many friends to the war after that, such as fellow Rogue wing mate Anni Capstan at Ithor.

Yet they both sacrificed so much to attain their life pursuits. It wasn’t as if she hated her uncle for involving her with the Jedi, far from it.. Luke had helped stopped the Empire, and of course, had helped bring her parents together. And if that had not happened, she would not even exist. But she and her brothers had all been forced to grow up too quickly after Sernpidal, after Chewbacca’s death, after Mara’s illness. She had lost so many friends to the war, Anni Capstan being one such example

She sighed, fatigue chipping away at here spirit. She wanted this war to end, to find some degree of solace either with the universe or in the company of someone singular, in the arms of someone who…

...

… Star’s end, what the in the seven Corellian hells was that train of thought? She must have been more tired than she thought. Luckily, the Starfleet vessel’s inter-ship communication system and klaxons saved her the time and effort needed to answer that particular query and to further confront any other thoughts.

“Yellow Alert! We are now approaching the Romulan Neutral Zone. Yellow Alert!””

***

Location: Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, Milky Way Galaxy

Lady Lumiya of the Sith stared down at the sparking, severed stump of her mechanical hand, then back upwards at Skywalker, her eyes narrowed and her teeth gritting beneath the veil.

“What is it with you people and slicing off limbs?”

It wasn’t just wistfulness or attempted humor on her part. From Sidious’ hidden and salvaged records, she knew that Lord Tyranus had sliced off the right hand of Anakin Skywalker on Geonosis only to lose both hands – and his head – aboard Invisible Hand three years later to the former Padawan. As Vader, Skywalker had lost his remaining limbs on Mustafar to Obi-Wan Kenobi. Twenty years later, he had followed in Tyranus’ footsteps and sliced off his own son’s right hand only to have the favor reciprocated aboard the moon of Endor and so on and so forth.

This severing of limbs was but a continuation of the age-old duels between the servants of darkness and light. She had seen the tapes Palpatine had compiled and hidden away, tapes and recordings of the old Jedi Order that had survived the propaganda and spinning following Order 66’s execution. Compared to their illustrious forbearers, the New Jedi were a pale reflection of their old way of life.

And yet, no matter how many times each order was reduced to a mere handful of individuals, both the Sith and the Jedi always returned to plague one another. The dance was joined anew every generation, a sort of perverse endless waltz of light and darkness. But this time, the cycle would be broken once and for all. She would see to it. The plan had come to fruition in part thanks to the Grand Master’s lost love when…

But that was a complicated story. Yet, perhaps this time, she had hoped that there would be no losses of limbs. Not the most auspicious of happenings, she feared. But this wasn’t over, not yet.

“It’s part of the job description,” Luke replied weakly. His body still ached from serving as conduit for the Orbs of Jalbador, but there was still fight in him.

Wonderful. Overseeing the reawakening of Dukat/Amojan had been more trying than had been visible to her audience and the shock of losing her right hand was not helping her matters. While Lumiya preferred focused attacks and styles as opposed to Vader’s brute strength, she was not above employing it and did so now.

In an instant, she had raised her remaining arm in front of her and towards Skywalker. Oh, what she would give to be able to summon Force Lightning right now. So instead, she opted for the best Force Push that she could manifest. But Skywalker still had enough willpower to spread his own Push.

“I…don’t think so…Lumiya…”

The invisible energies of light and darkness pushed fruitlessly at each other, then broke as Master Skywalker was able to force Lumiya back, pining the Sith Lady into the cavern wall just as Amojan had thrown Palas mere minutes earlier.

And speaking of Pah Wraiths…

“Ah, Amojan?”

The god-king of the Pah Wraiths had merely strolled past the fire circle, the other Jedi fruitlessly slashing and banging away at the invisible barrier with their lightsabers as he advanced closer and closer to Siskos. He now took a moment to gaze back at her and to her fury, merely shrugged his shoulders at her predicament.

“The whelp is yours, Sith. I care but for the blood of a Sisko.” And then he turned away to once again loom over the petrified forms of Rebecca, Jake, and Kaasidy. Luke, sensing that Dukat was the greater threat now, released his grip on the wounded Lumiya and charged the Pah-Wraith’s vessel.

“Han!”

“Right with you kid!”

From behind the formation where he had taken cover, Han continued to fire off fruitless, yet inspired shots at every conceivable angle at Amojan as Luke began charging.

“Oh Emperor’s Black Bones,” Lumiya. hissed. It would appear that she would have to resort to her variation of the Kaan maneuver.

The Kaan maneuver, as she called it, had last been attempted millennia previously during the Seventh Battle of Ruusan. Under the command of Lord Hoth, this incarnation of the Sith had been whittled down to a fraction of their glory and were on the verge of capture or annihilation. Lord Kaan had chosen annihilation and had unleashed the Thought Bomb, a surge of Force energy that had wiped out the Brotherhood of Darkness and most of the Army of Light.

But just as Darth Bane had survive this conflagration, so too would Lumiya with her version of Kaan’s maneuver. While an excellent step towards martyrdom, the whole suicide aspect was one she did not intend to enact, especially at this stage of the game. So, she focused her remaining energies, time slowing to a crawl as Skywalker slowly began to raise his green blade and charge at Dukat and as Solo continued to fire off shots.

She focused on every drop and anger she felt towards the Jedi, towards their Grand Master for his unwavering principles and the agony of their lost love, to the Republic that had stolen the Empire from her, and more. Into this mental box, she poured her cruelty, her malice, and her will to dominate.

The Lady Lumiya concentrated upon this and then focused the energies of this mental box into the glowing Orbs of Jalbador. From their, it spread to their link to the Pah Wraiths, on the caves themselves and the Dark Side energy that flowed through both it and her. It would be crude and unfocused, but effective. She at least would survive.

“Now Skywalker, you will die,” she whispered in triumph. And as Luke frowned, realizing too late that Lumiya was down, but not out, she yelled with a cry that was equal parts pain and delight, the Orbs of Jalbador and the Fire Caves erupted. An explosion of fire and light that seemed to consume every corner and all contained within before everything went black save for the red aura of the Pah Wraith’s relics.

***

Location: Courscant
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

If there was constant within the cosmos, it was the phenomenon of cause of effect. Every action guaranteed a reaction and every reaction was borne out of a single thought or decision. It was the result of linear time, of the past influencing the present in ways that were both widely observed and ignored.

It was this thought that occupied the mind of Jean-Luc Picard as he starred numbly at the tactical screens within the edge of the NRMOC chamber. He was the only Federation officer present. Ambassador Organa was heading up civilian evacuation and his team was either assisting for coordinating other matters. But they were doing so under the veil of suspicion and distrust.

He watched the Borg vessels continue to overwhelm the defenses of the capital. Interceptors, Cubes, and more challenged the capital and its guard, taunting them as their shields now absorbed and reflected several shots of turbolaser fire, and as energy beams lanced through the mighty minefield meant originally to engage the Yuuzhan Vong, vaporizing that line of defense in an instant.

Two months ago, the New Galactic Republic had made first contact with the United Federation of Planets and had hoped to bring them into the fold and their mutual fight against the onslaught of the Yuuzhan Vong war. Now, that adversary had in a matter of hours, shifted from a race of extragalactic warriors to a dark force, a collective force and one that, if Coruscant was any indication, overwhelm yet another galaxy in their quest for perfection.

And it’s all my fault.

Picard felt as if his world was being sucked into the inescapable maw of a black whole and past the point of any escape. Everything was crumbling to wrack and ruin. Both galaxies were now on the road to ruin and it was all on his watch and worse, by his doing. If he hadn’t brought the Enterprise to attempt to rescue the Roddenberry, if he hadn’t made the decision to defend Millennium Falcon from the attacking Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers and frigates, if he hadn’t agreed to bring the Falcon back to Earth, if…

If, if, if.

No other word, indeed, no other question had been pondered as often as this had. It was the road not taken, the--

“…out of the conduit like a hawkbat out one of the seven hells. They’re firing on the Borg vessel and they’re disrupting the…”

Picard frowned in confusion as the words of one of the sensor techs cut into his thoughts. Who was attacking the Borg vessels? Was it reinforcements from distant Mon Calamari as rumors had been circulating for the last three hours? Had the veneered Admiral Ackbar joined the fight against the cybernetic monstroisites?

No, this was not true he realized as he appraised the tactical boards. They would not have come from the Conduit but from a hyperspace lane. So then, who was it? The live image from a satellite’s holo-cam showed the Bothan Assault frigate Ralroost flying in synchronicity with…

…

Picard thought for a moment that he must be dreaming, that this was a trick of the light or of his fatigued mind. But it wasn’t. The Ralroost flew alongside the Enterprise-E, his ship, and his chariot of the cosmos. It’s white hull was still majestic and soaring, despite the scars from the Vong assault of weeks earlier. Behind it, waves of Federation ships were charging the planet at full impulse. Quantum and photon torpedoes were being unloaded upon the fleet and lances or phaser fire were already making contact, blowing several Interceptors to smithereens.

They would have had to attacked the Earth-end of the Wormhole Defense Perimeter before disembarking at Naboo then through the transwarp conduit to Coruscant, he realized. Starfleet must have chased them all the way from the Alpha Quadrant. Had that meant that Earth had been attacked?

He wasn’t certain and a part of him didn’t care, his attention focused on the images.

The Starfleet vessels comprised a pitiful force – in comparison to the Borg flotilla – but the Peregrine fighters, light cruisers, gunships, and frigates slammed into the outermost Interceptors and Borg ships that Picard could not help feel admiration for their dedication and heroism.

That sense of responsibility for this mess and the deaths of Starfleet officers that would occur here was still there, but it was if a ray of light had shone from the heavens. The first – and God willingly not the last – Calvary had arrived and maybe, just maybe, they would carry the day.

And then Picard heard the unmistaken, almost shrill tone of Senator Viqi Shesh speaking to someone and his re-energized sense of hope quickly evaporated.

“…you will cease any battle coordination with that ship and Admiral Janeway, Admiral Krey’Fey.”

Turning, Picard found Shesh at the forefront of the communications panel, an angry expression upon both her face and the furred, electronic, and extremely angry countenance of the Bothan Admiral staring back at her. The background showed the Ralroost’s bridge was battered and sparking. Clearly she had taken a beating at the hands of the Borg.

“Senator, while this is perhaps not the most appropriate time to asks, are you out of your mind at the moment?”

“Are you out of your mind, Admiral Krey’Fey? That ship is under the command of a --

“Senator, you do not command the Defense Force. And I am certain that this is not part of some imaginary conspiracy of shadowy fanatics.”

Picard felt like muttering a Thank you to the Bothan.

“Admiral Janeway is…not the perfect Admiral, but the Enterprise and Starfleet task-force are capable to helping to drive back the Borg now before they can take this planet as a foothold for their campaign,” he said, stepping into the conversation and Krey'Fey's line of sight.

“He’s right Senator. They’ve disrupted the assault and cut into their rear guard. If we –“

The image flickered out before Picard would continue. To his horror, Picard saw that Shesh had her hand on the communications panel and was motioning to a ranking naval official.

“I want Admiral Krey’Fey relived of command and the Ralroost to be considered a mutinous --

“Senator Shesh, what in the hell are you doing? We need to coordinate Starfleet’s—”

“Oh, silence that insolent tongue, Picard. We can defeat these Borg without you. And this is all your fault as far as I’m concerned and I’m sure the Senate will agree at your trial.”

“What?!”

“You heard what I said. Your stories about ‘Section 31’ and ‘two-hundred year old conspiracies’ are like everything else about your culture: a deception. You claimed the Borg Collective had been destroyed by ‘Admiral’ Janeway’, that their remnants had reformed and were prepared to ally with us. Now, we are betrayed by your cybernetic allies. But, you were once one of them. It is only natural for you to still harbor ties and loyalty towards them.”

***

Location: The Fire Caves
Bajor, Alpha Quadrant, The Milky Way Galaxy

As life and the Dark Side energies returned to her, Lady Lumiya groaned and sat up, slowly and carefully. Despite the omnipresent ache across her entire body, she surveyed the extent of her variation of the Kaan maneuver. The walls of the chamber had crumbled further and there was a stink about the place, a miasma of extinguished flames, burned flesh, and more. The Fire Circle was gone, as were Skywalker, Solo, and the Jedi. Even their lightsabers had vanished.

Frowning, she opened herself to the Dark Side and proceeded to conduct a Force Scan on the Cave. After a moment, she was satisfied with the result.. She could detect no sign of their presence or evidence of a transporter. They had, for lack of a better term, wiped out of existence by the energies of the Dark Side.

How fitting.

Continuing her survey, she noted that the three Siskos had also vanished, the chains and other bindings remaining to mark the spot of their imprisonment. While not intended, it –

“Uh, well, you sure did a number on them, eh boss?”

Lumiya glanced at the only conceivable witness, the loyal Bajoran monk whom she had contacted and who had realized the true extent of the game they were now embroiled in. Yet, she sensed no feelings of betrayal emanating from his core. If he thought about doing so for but a moment, she would know.

“Palas?”

“Uh, I mean, well, one minute they were here and one minute more, * poof * they –”

The monk’s words were again interrupted as Amojan once more raised his arm and as had happened ten minutes earlier, Palas found himself flying through the air and thrown against the wall of the cavern again.

“That’s getting really old,” he murmured as he slid into unconsciousness. Lumiya was prepared to rebuke the Pah-Wraith and educate him once more. The dark figure, however, got in the first word.

“You whelp! You have deprived me of the blood of a Sisko and dare to manipulate my —”

Before the Dark Emissary could finish, an exhausted, but furious Lumiya raised her remaining hand, her thumb and immediate finger pressed together. Kosst Dukat stepped back, his arms going to his throat and his eyes widening. Under the control of a Pah-Wraith, Dukat had shrugged off physical blows from Captain Sisko that would have battered a lesser man. How could such a whelp be doing this to him of all people?!

“This particular move,” Lumiya said after holding her fingers together for a few moments, “is one best associated with a former…master of mine. But I have no qualms in employing it. Now, are you ready to listen?”

Pure rage and murder burned in Amojan’s eyes, but he slowly, reluctantly nodded. With a move of her hand, Lumiya released the Force Choke and began to speak once again.

“Now, must I again explain that it is not my actions that you condemn? Your cooperation is ordained and ordered by the ultimate power in the universe and it is not the Sith. The deck has been stacked, the cards dealt to the players, and the hand ready to be played. You have the possibility of standing with the Royal Flush or the Idiot’s Array,” she said, referencing the best and the worst hands of Earth Poker and Galactic Sabacc.

Before Amojan or Lumiya could speak further, a beeping began emanating from somewhere in the chamber, or rather, from within their proximity. It was Lumiya’s comlink. She looked half-apologetic at Dukat.

“Excuse me a moment, Amojan.”

Turning away to shield her conversation from the Pah-Wraith – a useless gesture, perhaps, but one born out of experience – she removed her comlink from her belt and thumbed its receiver.

“This is Brisha, go ahead.”

After the Endor fiasco, Lumiya had gone into hiding to study the Sith ways for herself. In conjunction with various hidden bank accounts Vader had created for his own servants, she had had also adopted a new alias of Brisha Syo, a partial anagram of her former self, Shira Brie. Simplistic perhaps, but considering that Obi-Wan Kenobi had changed nothing but his first name to Ben following the Great Jedi Purge, Lumiya felt more than happy with it.

Given this stage of the plan, it might seem odd that she would still use code names, but there were several reasons. First and foremost, she had been an Imperial Intelligence agent and old habits pertaining to cloak and dagger died hard. Secondly, she was not prone to arrogance. Arrogance at the genius of his trap at Endor had led to Palpatine’s first death and the beginning of the end of the Empire. Lady Lumiya had no desire to follow in the Emperor’s footsteps. And so too did her ally, whose own arrogance and pride had, in conjunction with a meddlesome time traveler, nearly destroyed an entire collective two years earlier.

“What is your ETA?”

“I am about to secure a new dealer for the table,” she stated, referring to Kosst Dukat. “The unruly families have been ejected from the hall.”

She had no idea what had prompted gambling euphemisms to enter their list of code words, but again, it was necessary. The Queen had certainly thought so, but given what was as stake, had been prepared to humor it. In this case, families referred to Sisko and Skywalker as well as their associates on Bajor. She didn’t bother to elaborate on the nature of their deaths or disappearance or whatever.

“Excellent. All is as planned and on schedule,” reported the sender. “I am also about to deal the gamers a bad hand and faulty deck.”

Lumiya felt a faint excitement run through what was left of her natural body. So, the Queen’s attack on Coruscant had begun. Lumiya hated to see the grand world razed yet again for the umpteenth time in as many years, but it had been a key trade-off in order to secure an alliance with the Neo-Borg.

And speaking of tradeoffs…

“Should make for an interesting game. And the package?”

“Tucked in need and tight; awaiting pick-up in the foyer.”

“My own travel package was picked up and will be delivered shortly. See you at the party, then.”

She tucked her comlink back into her belt. the faint thrill nearly blossoming into a full excitement this time. That had been a key component of the plan all along. Chop off the snake’s head and the body would die, as the saying went. The death of Luke Skywalker would either see the self-destruction of his New Order or permanent demoralization. But the –

“If you are finished staring at bare rock,” Amojan broke in, interrupting her thoughts, “then what would you have me contribute to your ‘grand plan’?”

Lumiya noted the sarcasm in his voice and was tempted to give the Force Choke another go, but decided against it.

“Very well. There are three very specific tasks which you must accomplish in order for the Dark Side and the Merging to triumph. First, I believe you have several unresolved…issues with the current tenants of the Celestial Temple, yes?”

***

Location: The Q Continuum
Somewhere in the Universe

Realizing his mistake, Q Q instantly tried to cut power to the neutrona wands, but he was unable to. The smug bastard was in control of their arc and Q knew that within moments, his son was going to die for his arrogance.

The deflected proton streams, however, never reached his son. Without any warning, the Lady Q flung herself into the path of the oncoming energy bolts. She could not summon the full extent of her energy and so, the lance of energy cut through her form, striking her very core. Yet, the Q fought hard and the bolts did not pass beyond her core. She would not allow any harm to come to her offspring, to the one who had the potential to accomplish what not Q had ever done.

But what that destiny was, she would never know as the energy stream finally dissipated and she fell forward. Q and q rushed to her side, fear and dread swelling in their faces and in their bodies.

“Mom, hang on.”

“It’s alright. Just a…flesh wound.”

“You’re a terrible liar, dear,” Q said softly, desperately trying to apply the healing energies of the Q. But whatever was disrupting their powers was also preventing the full application of said healing energies. She was fading and fast.

She held their hands and looked up, a calm, yet loving look in her eyes.”

“I love you two little mavericks so ve…”

She trailed off as all life left her eyes. Her hand went cold and limp. The Lady Q was no more. From the Portal, M had watched this drama unfold and frowned, though there was a slight smile present on his face.

“Not my intended target, but I’ll gladly take this consolation prize as a –.”

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!”

Fury swelled in Q’s breast, all thoughts of flippantly gone and replaced with hot, deadly rage as he leapt, no, charged the bemused god –

-- and was hurled back to his dead wife’s form with a simple flick of a wrist from M, shaking his head.

“Once again, I could obliterate you with a word Q, but this is a far more fitting punishment, I think. There is nothing more poignant than a broken god without a home.”

Then M turned to stare once more at the Stranger and a strange smile came over his face. His eyes seemed to darken and Force energy crackled around his body. He opened his mouth and a booming, twisted, distorted, and almost godlike voice emanated, one that was clearly not his own.

“You should have chosen wiser, Avatar of Light. Don’t mind the door on your way out.”

And with that, M stepped backwards into the portal. Without a moment’s delay, the Stranger began motioning everyone to step through the portal.

“What, are we going after him?” asked a confused Crusher.

“No, we have to get out of here right now.”

“Why?” asked Wesley, unable to spare a glimpse of the Q next to the body of their fallen loved one. “And what did he mean by ‘without a home’?”

The Strange sighed and pointed his hand upward.

“That.”

Everyone save the Q’s glanced up. The skies were twisting and contorting, their darkness transforming into crimson red. Lightning began flashing and the wind picked up, howling like a thousand, ravenous beasts. Trees, water, and even the very air seemed to fade away and disintegrate. They were taken from existence not with peace, but with a fury and force of nature that could not be equaled.

“What’s going on?” asked the Gardener,

“The end of an era,” the Strange replied. “The slaying of two birds with one stone,” he continued, pointing to the portal which had begun to shrink and destabilize. Crusher, the Gardener and the Apprentice looked up at the reddening skies and then at the collapsing portal.

“Now would be a superb time to vacate the premises, yes?” asked Wesley.

“Hurry!”

“Where are we going to?”

“I have that covered. Now we must – Q!”

The group had all but rushed through, but the Strange saw the Q’s still kneeled before their fallen member.

“Q, we have to go now!”

But neither could hear him. They were too deep in shock, too comatose to hear the words of their ally beckoning away from imminent death and begging them to enter the light.

“Dammit,” muttered the Stranger and with a motion of his hands pulled Q and q back from the body of the Lady Q. As they tumbled through the nearly collapsed portal, the last thing all three of them saw was that body consumed by the same holocaust, disintegrating all within reach until nothing was left of that particular dimension of space and time.

After eons of awing and annoying the sentient life-forms of the universe, the Q and their Continuum were save for two individuals, no more.

***

Location: Coruscant
That Galaxy Far, Far Away

Shesh was not the first to make such comments towards Picard. Lilly Sloane had been the most recent, with then-Commander Benjamin Sisko and ex-Admiral Nora Satie right behind her. He had becomes used to them and while it pained him, had learned to live with it as his late-brother Robert had feared he would be unable to.

But now, the stress of the last two months, the political intrigue, the plotting and backstabbing, the Yuuzhan Vong attack on Earth, the claimed end of all existence – it was all too much, even for someone like Jean-Luc Picard. So, he did what all who reached that point would normally and quite naturally do.

He snapped.

Before Shesh could utter another word, Picard had grabbed her by the collars of her Kuati-manufactured senatorial attire and hoisted her up against the wall of the chamber, raw fury in his eyes, face, and even body posture.

“How dare you! You can’t even begin to imagine what it’s like to have their machines running through you, to be stripped of everything that makes you an individual, and to have participated in the deaths of 11,000 individuals! They haunt me in my dreams and nightmares. You think I support the Borg? I’m bed in bed with the Borg, then maybe you’re in bed with the Yuuzhan Vong you pompous, vindictive excuse for a —”

Picard stopped suddenly and it wasn’t sure why. There had been a glimmer in her eyes for just a moment when he had insulted her and compared her to working with the invading aliens. Had that been indignation, fear at his outburst, or was it something more, perhaps…

…

No, that was impossible. Or was it…

Time seemed to slow as the wheels in his head began turning and analyzing the events of the last two months. When the Federation Council had been bombed, Intelligence had assumed that the Yuuzhan Vong had been the culprits. To them, the incident was an attempt to prevent a concord from being reached between the two powers. The fact that Tsavong Lah’s fleet had blasted their way through the Wormhole Defense Perimeter within mere hours of the conflagration had been universally dismissed as mere coincide.

However, when he and Master Skywalker had sifted through the footage and Picard had spotted Zweller, he had then assumed that Thirty-One was behind the mess, once again pursuing their so-called protection of the Federation by the most extreme means. Luke had dismissed Dif Scaur and the Republic Intelligence division as being incapable of such an act and while the possibility that someone else on the intergalactic playing field had done it, Picard had felt certain of Section 31’s guilt.

But what if he had been wrong? Starfleet Security and Kyle Katarn had concluded that the bomb had been smuggled within a protocol droid in the Republic delegation. Could Thirty-One have stolen the Republic tech and commandeered the droid? Or was their more? What if the Yuuzhan Vong had been responsible for the incident, but someone else had actually executed it, someone with enough know-how and clearance within Republic.

Though Picard could not have known it, there had been concerns by Dif Scaur and other Intelligence operatives since the defection debacle the previous year. These concerns dealt with the possibility that a mole may be nestled in the upper echelons of power, though their limited investigation – diverted furthermore by the even larger debacle at Fondor – had found nothing.

Yet, even without this knowledge, the train of thought continued to move at breakneck speed through Picard’s brain. Shesh was a member of NRMOC and a highly placed Republic official. Furthermore, the Princess had mentioned on their voyage to the capital that there had been issues with Shesh in the past, that investigations into possible corruption with SELCORE and the Duro debacle had forced her to resign from her position on the committee. In addition, Kuat, while a major ship builder, was a Core world and lay directly in the Invasion Corridor.

The thought was one too terrible to envision. Could this Senator have sold out to the Yuuzhan Vong either to profit from the invasion or to save her homeworld? Could all of her anti-Jedi and anti-Federation rhetoric have come at the orders or someone else? Could she have planted the bomb that had killed half the Federation Council and indirectly Borsk Fey’lya?

While this was all going through his head, the commotion had attracted the attention of NRMOC guards, who proceeded to tear him off of the Kuati Senator. But it was strange. He could hear them issuing orders and threats, but their voices seemed to be fading. There was also a green twinkling that was enveloping his vision and his body. The last words he heard coming out of her lips were ‘Arrest this—’ and from a distant tech, “…central planetary shields are off-…”

And then they vanished, replaced with an all too familiar interior of a Borg vessel. While the familiar humming and slurping of tubes was present, the chamber was cloaked in relative darkness save for the glowing Viewing Cube that hung before him, broadcasting tactical results and live video-feeds of the assault upon the Republic’s capital world.

“Oh no, no, no.”

“Oh yes.”

A soft, yet sultry voice seemed to come from all around him. The chamber was in a flash bathed in the full green and yellow light common to Borg vessels and installations, revealing the form of the individual…no, the thing that personified the pain and torment that Picard had suffered through in both the real-world and in the world of his nightmares.

“Welcome home, Locutus.”

***

To be continued…

***

Closing Thoughts and Annotations
* Heh heh heh. Next chapter will not only mark the end of Act II, but will be the Ultimate Spider-Man # 100 of the story thus far. Essentially, in following Brian Michael Bendis’ style for that landmark issue, the chapter will be a cliffhanger (as it is the end of the bridging installment). However, practically every surviving major character and subplot (some that who haven’t been seen since the end of Act I – nudge, wink, hint) will be getting an appearance and in turn, a cliffhanger. So, it’s going to probably end up being double-sized (as I’d originally planned for twenty-one rather than twenty chapters) and maybe too ambitious, but I look forward to giving it a shot. Either way, I have fun things planned for the third act and this will be a great set-up for the final battle.

* Hologram Fun World first appeared in “Queen of the Empire”, book six in the now retconned/non-canon “Jedi Prince Series”.

* Sev'rance Tann’s first and only apperance was in the computer game Star Wars: Galactic Battlegrounds: Clone Campaigns. Likewise, Vandalor’s sole apperances was limited to the Gameboy game The New Droid Army.

* Lumiya’s alias of Brisha Syo first appeared in Legacy of the Force: Betrayal.

* The line “…she poured her cruelty, her malice, and her will to dominate” is a tribute to The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring.

* Likewise, the endless waltz comment was a tip of the hat to Gundam Wing: Endless Waltz.

***

Also, as promised, is the debut of the latest BOBW sig, one I am prepared to phase in and thus replace my current Obi-Wan Kenobi/Civil War sig if everyone likes. First, the previous BOBW sig:



...and now the latest: