Any other thought and critiques welcome, I want to nip any problems in the bud as soon as possible, I know it's not a very long chapter compared to Starcrossed or anything, but I'm not sure if I have the energy in me to try and produce an epic, think I'll just go for a relatively short story.
Tentatively titled:
The Time That is Given to Us.
Chapter One: Sleep
The voices were surrounding him, enveloping him, a cacophony of unity, a cold enveloping mass of noise, he could hear them in his mind, and in every ounce of his being.
…Sub-level 214, readjust assimilation chamber 345, power level fluctuation within chamber n…
…Hull fluctuations within lower bow quarter, levels 24, 25, and 27 receiving minor damage from engaging starsh…
…Primary weapon systems at 94% efficiency, Shield matrix at 98%, enemy shield grid terminated, prepare dock 2, redirect power from assimilation matrix to…
… Estimated threat posed by Galaxy starship, USS Enterprise is 0.1%, assimilation chambers at 97% efficiency…
…Assimilation of primary target will commence when secondary threat is neutralised…
…Sensor grid 34 detects high levels of impulse activity on primary target…
Thousands of images flashed through his mind, sensor displays of alien worlds pierced by brilliant green bolts of torpedo fire, sinister cubes shifting into position before disappearing in a barely perceptible flash of light, and yet, running through all of this, through his mind, and the mind of the entire collective was a single note, a rhythm, almost like a heartbeat, impossibily, at the centre of it all, a single mind, or at least, it seemed that way, a single will or thought, but distant. As if focusing on a thousand things across thousands of worlds, and then a single spike which reached out for a fraction of a second and flashed across his mind…
This war was over, the Borg had won, and Earth would fall.
Resistance was futile.
No.
A despairing rage took hold of him, blotting out the voices in his mind, and scattering the images of destruction like leaves in the wind and only one image survived that terrible grief and anger.
A pale faced being with golden eyes, alien for a moment, but then a familiar voice burst through the reeling chaos of his rage.
“I am unable to penetrate defence system’s subcommand structure, Captain…”
Captain?
The thought would not connect for a second, the voices of the thousands crashing on the walls of his mind like the heaviest ocean tides, but now he knew how to weather that storm…
“Acknowledged, attempting new power subcommand path…”
Data, Riker… the Enterprise…
He focused again, the thoughts becoming clearer this time, the images sharpened.
“I cannot penetrate Borg power subcommand structure, all critical sub commands are protected, Captain.”
He was standing in a laboratory. Data’s laboratory. On the Enterprise. Someone was speaking over the comm. A voice, he couldn’t quite place the voice.
“Then it’s over.”
“Mr Crusher,” Riker… “Ready a collision course with the Borg ship… …you heard me, a collision course…”
“Yes, sir.”
That voice was distant and subdued. Wesley.
Dimly, pride surged through his ruined body at the young man who would do his duty to the last, as his father had done, and as Picard would have done in his place. The pride gave way to shame, as he watched his crew resisting to the last, as he should have done.
“Mr La Forge, prepare to go warp power.”
“Aye, sir.”
He should have been able to stop them. But he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t make the difference.
The images flashed in front of his eyes, beams of green fire stabbing out at the Melbourne, the Saratoga, and the cutting beams slicing deep into the heart of the Kyushu, as the lights dimmed for a second, and then a bright ball of fire, as the core breached, and the shattered remains of the New Orleans class spiralled away to join the graveyard of her sister ships, scattered across the Wolf system.
He did that, he had killed thousands of men, women and children. His mind’s eye watched as men and women of different species fell to their death in the vacuum of space, or were incinerated in the weapons fire and antimatter explosions, or whose voices would join the cacophony in his mind.
All because of him.
Never again.
He had to reach them, he had to tell them, he tried to moved, but the waters of the collective enveloped him once more. In his mind, the voices grew in power, and he saw his arm… what used to be his arm… activate the release mechanism, hurling the ensign who tried to stop him, and then Data was there, tearing the monstrosity from his body, and casting it on the floor.
The waters subsided, and Jean Luc Picard reached out, and grasped the arm of the android standing before him. With an immense burst of strength and will power, he forced out a single word.
‘Sleep.’
Doctor Crusher looked at her padd, and spoke with a hint of wonder in her voice,
“He’s regaining consciousness.”
He spoke again with more force behind his words, desperate to make them understand.
“Sleep.”
Troi gasped,
“It’s Captain Picard speaking, not Locutus.”
A brief anger and frustration surged through him, of course it was him, why couldn’t they understand? He looked at Data, willing him to make the leap, to see what had to be done.
“Sleep, Data.”
“He’s exhausted,” whispered Crusher.
Realization dawned on the android’s face.
‘Yes Doctor, but if I may make a supposition, his message was not intended to express fatigue, but to suggest a course of action.”
Suddenly, the ship shook as the Borg cutting beam lanced forward once more, slicing deep into the engineering hull, the hull shrieked as the beam began to slice through into the inner hull.
Data slapped his comm badge,
“Data to Bridge, standby…”
“I am attempting to penetrate the Borg regenerative subcommand path. It is a low priority system and may be accessible.”
A warning sounded across the suddenly silent laboratory, the outer hull had been breached, the inner hull was failing. On the bridge, Riker prepared for his last command,
“Mr. Data report.”
“Standby…”
“I can’t, Mr. Data.”
“Warning, inner hull failure imminent on decks 24 and 25, decompression danger.”
Suddenly, the shaking ceased. The beam cut off, and the ghostly tractor beam holding the ship in place stopped. The bridge crew looked on in disbelief, as the Borg ship powered down, across the sensor displays, weapon systems, shield grids and assimilation matrixes went into standby mode.
Riker exchanged a bewildered glance with Commander Shelby, then spoke into the comm.,
“Mr Data, what the hell just happened?”
“I successfully planted a command into the Borg collective consciousness, it must directed them to believe it was time to regenerate,”
He looked at the ragged figure of Picard, still staring into his eyes, barely moving, only the gentle blips and sweeps of the monitors gave any indication that he was still human under the cold, oppressive machinery.
“In effect, I put them all to sleep.”
“To sleep?”
“Yes, sir.”
A triumphant smile spread across Commander Shelley’s face, hope in his eyes, Riker turned to the large Klingon at the tactical station,
“Status of Borg power drive?”
Worf looked down at his board and shook his head,
“Minimal power.”
“Electromagnetic field?”
“Non existant.”
There was a hint of bemusement in the klingon’s voice.
“Commander Shelby, take an away team, and confirm that the Borg are asleep…”
“Delighted, sir. Mr Worf?”
The Klingon and the Commander strode from the bridge, the turbolift doors hissing shut behind them.
On the outer edge of Borg space, a small fleet of Borg cubes was conducting a planetary assimilation. The cubes swept over the planet like a storm of locusts, searing everything, leaving none remaining and leaving no resource unharvested or untainted by the touch of the Collective.
Then, something happened that they did not expect, in a last desperate bid to survive, an orbital trade platform made a final defiant gesture to the sinister glowing cubes which advanced towards it. Ships sprayed from all docking ports, impulse drives at full power as they scattered from the approaching foe, each one fleeing into warp as soon as they cleared the planet’s helpless defence network. The brave, or the foolish, launched a last torpedo salvo before engaging their warp drive, but the torpedo fire rippled over the surface of the lead cube and did no more damage. Abroad the stricken station, four engineers worked at the failing reactor, it had been the pride and the fall of their civilisation. A reactor which harnessed it’s energy not from the crude interactions of matter and antimatter, but on the changing eddies in the space-time continuum, on the energy of a single quantum fissure, where the rules which governed each reality broke down, and everything which could happen, did happen. It was this technology which had brought the Borg, but perhaps, it was this technology which could drive them away.
What did they have to lose?
Over the communication system, they heard the harsh resonating voice of the collective.
…lower your shields and surrender your station, your efforts will not prevent the assimilation of your world, your struggle is irrelevant, you will be assimilated. We will add your technological and biological distinctiveness to our own, your culture will adapt to service ours. Resistance is futile…
The chief engineer looked over at his reactor specialist, she nodded, a soft smile playing across her lips as she rested her finger on the activation panel, bracing herself for the inevitable. The four engineers looked at each other, saying so much with out words, reaching out to each other as the reactor specialist closer her eyes, and triggered the panel.
Had anyone been staring into the heavens from the surface of the besieged planet, they would have seen a flash like a supernova, and watched a rippling wave of energy flash through space, slamming into the invading vessels, obliterating them in a blinding surge of an impossible energy. But no-one was watching, for none were left to watch.
It was only a small change, as changes go, barely relevant in the grand scheme, a slight imbalance in the fourth dedicated transwarp entry calculation system, an error overlooked with the energy wave racing towards the final cube as it spun on it’s axis and flashed into the opening conduit, and away from the deadly explosion.
But it was enough. The sudden pulse of the warp field as the conduit collapsed raced outward, finding the quantum fissure at the heart of the expanding fireball of quantum energies, and, as the blossoming fireball swept over the spot where the cube had been only a second before, the warp field breached the quantum fissure.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“I said, are you alright, Guinan? You seem a little distracted?”
She looked over at her companion, he was looking at her with concern in his eyes.
“I’m…
She stopped, taking in her surroundings, she was sitting behind the bar, the cocktail she had been pouring evaporating in front of her, but, this wasn’t her bar. This wasn’t right. She looked out of the viewport, outside, a Nebula class starship was slowly pulling into the main refit dock of Starbase 74. Behind her, a wild cheer burst out, looking round, she saw the Utopia Planetia sensor displays on the main screen. The lights on the Borg cube had faded and the cutting beam that had been slicing deep into the heart of the Federation flagship had cut off. All around her, drinks were raised and the name of Enterprise was toasted across a hundred systems.
But the feeling would not go away, a cold chill had settled across her heart and all she could do was stare at the frozen picture on the screen.
Notes: Based on the universe seen in TNG Episode Parallels, and I know that the opening chapter relies on a bit of technobabble ish stuff, but there wasnt much option, I wanted to show the divergance between the realities.
