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The Leopards Eating Faces and Unlubed Dildo of Consequences Thread


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19 minutes ago, Pato del Muerto said:

Or maybe they see it as a way to ensure republicans win the EC into perpetuity.  And they can then levy tariffs against it and build a border wall all along the new American western border. 

Let them secede then bring them back as a territory. They are admitted back as 4 states: West Alabama, West Kentucky, South Idaho and the OC

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19 hours ago, jw4381 said:

I'm trying to figure out why I wnb, but I really got nothing. Maybe the weirdly splayed fingers?

because you hate america and you are into dudes but are afraid to tell us for some strange reason. I mean that's all I could think of. to be fair I wouldn't either but that's because they would leave me in the morning because they are straight, and I don't like heartbreak very much.

Edited by troph
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1 hour ago, Surly Bevo said:

The Trump administration is pushing to take on places like Greenland, take back the PC, etc....they are not letting the West Coast go.  C'mon guys.  

especially considering the impetus for those declarations, while superficially ridiculous, is that they're strategically important places for WW3. keep your eye on the ball

Edited by Longhorn_Fan68
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28 minutes ago, Mittens said:

Not a battle I'm willing to fight.  I'd rather just vent to you assholes about it.

Frame it as a question. 

"Dude, don't you think it would be much easier to move to one of those states than to expect to create change in a state that has showed little interest in doing so?"

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1 minute ago, SydneyCarton said:

Frame it as a question. 

"Dude, don't you think it would be much easier to move to one of those states than to expect to create change in a state that has showed little interest in doing so?"

Yep.

"So, dude, it seems like you really want this?"  Yeah, I do.

"You think it's a good policy, and what a state should do for its citizens?"  Yep, for sure.

"You know that policy already exists, right?"  Head cocked, puzzled.

"Mass, Vermont, Penn, California - they all already have that policy.  If you want to live somewhere with that policy, you can move to a state where they support it.  You know that Texas doesn't support it, and has no interest in supporting it.  You're in charge of your life and your household, right?  So, take charge and do what's best for you.  Move."

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2 hours ago, Mittens said:

This isn't really specific to the most recent election, as this guy has been going through it for years.  It really breaks my heart, honestly.

Wrestled w/ him in high school.  Good dude, but dumb as a rock.  Never expected him to go to college and be a doctor or anything like that - figured he would end up working Parks and Rec somewhere within 50 miles of HS.  Went into the Navy for a couple of years, got out and went into the Army after a couple of years as a civilian.  Involved in a training accident that eventually cost him both his legs, above the knee.  He's been in VA hell for the last 15+ years w/ them giving him the runaround, and him not having the mental capacity to understand what's happening or the ability to navigate the system.  I know enough about his situation to follow from a distance, but not the details, so don't come at me w/ some gotcha shit about how he could have helped himself - I'm not him.

He has moved from NH to SC to GA trying to be near the right VA hospital.  He settled in Frisco and is now married to a full-on MAGAT w/ a disabled kid that needs 24/7 care.  I have suspicions that she is with him as a way to access his gov money, but it's not like dude is getting a mint, so maybe that's just my biases.  Shortly after their marriage, I unfollowed him on FB because of her posting and tagging him in all her propaganda BS.  This is from last week - N is her son, who is developmentally disabled and in a wheelchair.  Like, wtf?

image.thumb.png.f52d4f7091184bc8c1494dae3f111cf3.png

Last night, I got a DM from him letting me know he's coming to Austin next week and wants to meet up.  I want to see him just to be a human and a friend from HS and show him love, but there's no fucking way I could be in the same room w/ that woman.  Don't get me wrong, he's dead red himself, but he doesn't (or at least didn't) live in that MAGA blinded world.  But I have a ton of Trumpy friends and can work around their bullshit for a couple of hours socially, so long as we focus on sports or reliving the past or whatever.  I respond that it's going to be tough for me to meet up, but hopefully we can make it happen, and ask why he's coming to Austin.  His response:

So, the best states are True Blue?  No way!  Kinda feel like him and his wheelchair are being used for props.  Guy is going to leave thinking he's done his part to help, and he will have, but it will be for naught.  His efforts won't help, and the situation won't change. 

And a year from now, he'll blame immigrants.

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3 hours ago, Mittens said:

This isn't really specific to the most recent election, as this guy has been going through it for years.  It really breaks my heart, honestly.

Wrestled w/ him in high school.  Good dude, but dumb as a rock.  Never expected him to go to college and be a doctor or anything like that - figured he would end up working Parks and Rec somewhere within 50 miles of HS.  Went into the Navy for a couple of years, got out and went into the Army after a couple of years as a civilian.  Involved in a training accident that eventually cost him both his legs, above the knee.  He's been in VA hell for the last 15+ years w/ them giving him the runaround, and him not having the mental capacity to understand what's happening or the ability to navigate the system.  I know enough about his situation to follow from a distance, but not the details, so don't come at me w/ some gotcha shit about how he could have helped himself - I'm not him.

He has moved from NH to SC to GA trying to be near the right VA hospital.  He settled in Frisco and is now married to a full-on MAGAT w/ a disabled kid that needs 24/7 care.  I have suspicions that she is with him as a way to access his gov money, but it's not like dude is getting a mint, so maybe that's just my biases.  Shortly after their marriage, I unfollowed him on FB because of her posting and tagging him in all her propaganda BS.  This is from last week - N is her son, who is developmentally disabled and in a wheelchair.  Like, wtf?

image.thumb.png.f52d4f7091184bc8c1494dae3f111cf3.png

Last night, I got a DM from him letting me know he's coming to Austin next week and wants to meet up.  I want to see him just to be a human and a friend from HS and show him love, but there's no fucking way I could be in the same room w/ that woman.  Don't get me wrong, he's dead red himself, but he doesn't (or at least didn't) live in that MAGA blinded world.  But I have a ton of Trumpy friends and can work around their bullshit for a couple of hours socially, so long as we focus on sports or reliving the past or whatever.  I respond that it's going to be tough for me to meet up, but hopefully we can make it happen, and ask why he's coming to Austin.  His response:

So, the best states are True Blue?  No way!  Kinda feel like him and his wheelchair are being used for props.  Guy is going to leave thinking he's done his part to help, and he will have, but it will be for naught.  His efforts won't help, and the situation won't change. 

He sounds like a socialist.

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3 hours ago, The Dog said:

 

 

Spoiler

My Star Wars VS Star Trek Fan Fiction.

I have been working on this for quite awhile. hope you all enjoy.

WORLDS WITHOUT END REDUX
Act I

CHAPTER I.

In the endless void between the stars the mile-long form of a
starship moved silently, its chalk-white surface in perfect contrast
with the infinite night. The almost casual motion of this ship and
its two escorts was quietly observed. Star Destroyers, a powerful
front-line ship for the Galactic Empire, and a source of terror across
its territory. The recent arms race with the guerrilla movement to
overthrow their leadership had continued to push their weapons
technology further. It is this short time right now when that Empire
would be at its strongest, when they have their most advanced
technologies and an intact chain of command.
"Yes," said a voice with satisfaction, unconcerned with such
physical limitations on sound in a vacuum. "This will do nicely."
When those words were spoken, a change took place that was to
be felt across the universe. In some parts of the galaxy, some
special individuals noticed inexplicable feelings of uncertainty and
dread. For the two remaining masters of the Force, each the polar
opposite of his counterpart, it produced a disturbance unlike any they
had ever experienced in their long lives. And while these two were
wont to agree on anything, both could sense the potential doom that
had come into being.

On the other side of the universe a hopelessly mismatched
battle was about to come to its inevitable conclusion. One was the
Federation Starship Voyager, which has been cut off from its people
for over five years. Its opponent was a gigantic ship belonging to
the Federation's greatest enemy: the Borg. Unlike Voyager, it was
heavily-armed and effectively shielded, and there was no doubt who
would be the victor. But as it happened, this single battle between
two rather insignificant ships was in fact the most important one in
all of history, although neither side knew it.
"Any signs of other vessels in the vicinity," asked Captain
Kathryn Janeway, commander of Voyager.
"Negative, captain," Ens. Kim replied. "No other vessels in
range of our sensors."
The ship rocked under the impact of another Borg weapon.
"Direct hit, Deck 12," reported Lt. Tuvok at Tactical.
Janeway's first officer, Comm. Chakotay, stepped to her side.
In all crises he was her closest advisor. Unfortunately, there was
little to offer under the present circumstances. "Maybe there's
somewhere we can hide," he offered, "at least for a little while. Give
us a chance to patch the ship together."
The ship was struck again, and below in Astrometrics, Seven of
Nine was hastily examining their sensor readings. The fact that she
was a Borg herself was only relevant in that she knew what she was
fighting to escape. If there was any irony in her mind being pitted
against the hive collective that had trained her it was lost on her.
"Anything that can provide some cover?" Janeway asked over the comm.
"Nothing yet, captain," Seven replied, her voice even despite
the anxiousness of the moment. Seven was not one to panic, regardless
of the situation. She was adjusting the long-range sensors in the
vain hope of finding something when her console began to beep for her
attention. She tapped the panel and her brow furrowed in momentary
confusion. "Captain," she said, "Sensors have picked up what appears
to be a wormhole less than five hundred thousand kilometers from
here."
The ship shuddered again, and Seven could feel the explosive
decompression despite the room's seal. They wouldn't last much
longer. "How the hell did we miss that?" Janeway asked. "It's
practically on our doorstep."
"I'm not sure," Seven said, looking at the readings. "But it
is a wormhole." She continued tapping the panel as she analyzed the
readings. "Stable, but I have no idea where it leads." Seven's
stomach twisted as the inertial dampeners failed for a fraction of a
second. She passed the coordinates on to Navigation.
"Away from here, and that's good enough for me," Janeway said.
"Alter course, Mr. Paris."
Voyager turned tightly, and the cube altered direction to
pursue. Not long after, space opened up and swallowed both of them
without a trace.

Standing on the main deck of the Star Destroyer Incaciad,
Admiral Thrawn gazed at the space beyond. His crew was far too busy
ensuring the smooth running of the ship to pay much attention, and
even less time to wonder what he might be looking at, or thinking
about. It was a pointless exercise anyway; few could understand all
that went on behind those alien eyes, and yes he was alien. His
ascent to his current rank did nothing to change that fact in the
minds of the Imperial Navy, although it mattered little to those under
his command. Whatever feelings they might have for non-humans were
suspended for the grand admiral, and newcomers to the ship were
quickly educated in that fact by his crew. It takes extraordinary
effort to overcome a prejudice; but then, there was nothing ordinary
about Thrawn.
As it happened, he was thinking about the future, and how the
galaxy was going to change soon. The Empire was constructing a second
Death Star at Endor, supposedly more powerful than the first. Rather
redundant in Thrawn's estimation; a planet-destroying weapon's only
real benefit was in overwhelming planetary shields, which the first
Death Star was quite capable of doing. Even then, in practical
military terms it wasn't a terribly effective weapon. Perhaps to
eliminate the center of your enemies' leadership or to terrify a
populace into surrender, but what good, in the end, was blowing up a
planet you want to conquer? The Death Star was useful, but the extra
effort was a bit of a waste in Thrawn's estimation.
According to the secret communication, the Death Star's
construction was behind, and Darth Vader and the Emperor would oversee
the final stages of construction in person. Yes, the Emperor was
leaving the impenetrable security of Coruscant to personally observe
the construction of an inoperable and defenseless battlestation.
Seemed rather obvious a trap, but the Rebels had been suffering
several setbacks, and the Emperor's rather obvious trap did have a
particularly attractive piece of bait. He considered who might be
commanding the Imperial forces; probably Piett. Not a bad commander,
but not a very brilliant tactician either.
Thrawn was just considering some attack scenarios, were he in
charge, when he heard one of the crewmen speaking to Captain Jarrol.
"Sir, two ships have appeared on our scope."
Thrawn turned around and looked down towards the young man.
There was almost a sense of casualness about the way he acted. "Out of
hyperspace?"
"No sir," the crewman quickly responded to Thrawn, "they just
appeared out of nowhere."
"Indeed," replied Thrawn, still nonplused. "Let's have a
look," he said as he stepped towards the control station. He didn't
waste time telling the crew to raise the shields; they knew what he
expected of them. He examined the ships for several seconds. They
were clearly alien, and they didn't share any similar designs. The
smaller ship was visibly damaged, but if the larger cube-shaped vessel
was responsible, it showed no interest in making the kill just yet.
"Admiral," Jarrol said, returning from a quick discussion with
his deck officer, "we have an intruder on board. Engineering."
"I assume you're not referring to a rebel spy."
"No," Jarrol said. "According to witnesses it appeared out of
thin air."
"'It?'" Thrawn replied. Jarrol offered him the datapad and
Thrawn looked at the intruder. Mechanical components, but obviously a
living thing. "A cyborg," he said quietly.
"It made no threatening motions," Jarrol continued. "But when
it didn't heed instructions it was shot. They're taking it to the
infirmary to study it."
Thrawn looked up from the datapad to the two ships beyond the
windows. "So," he asked no one in particular, "which one did you come
from?"
"Sir, we're receiving a hail from the cubical vessel," an
officer reported. The sudden voice was chilling, as if a million
voices were speaking as one in some horrible chant. "We are the Borg.
We have analyzed your defensive capabilities and judged them to be
inadequate. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add
your distinctiveness to our own. You will adapt to service us.
Resistance is futile."

On board the battered remains of Voyager, Captain Janeway rose
from her chair. "Hail them again."
Lt. Tuvok sent the message, but... "No response."
"Captain," Harry Kim said anxiously, "the Borg have beamed
over to the alien ship, the center one."
"How many drones?"
"One." Ens. Kim checks his instruments. "They must have beamed
over while their shields were still down."
Janeway turned to her first officer, unable to hide her
confusion. "Why would they not answer our hails? If they were
hostile, why haven't they fired? If they're peaceful, why ignore us?"
"Perhaps their communication technology is incompatible with ours," he
offered.
"We did receive energy readings earlier which may have been a
communication device," Tuvok informed them.
Janeway turned, her hand stroking her chin. Finally she
walked towards the turbolift with a quick gait. "Analyze those
signals, see if you can communicate with them. I'll be in engineering
- we still have a ship to put back together."

Thrawn watched the Cube advance. It was certainly big, but
there was no visible sign of any armored defenses, a rather odd
construction given the appearance of the cyborg below. "Flank them,"
Thrawn ordered, and the Kartinian and Lucinda advanced on the Cube
while the Incaciad moved into position. "Have the fighter crews
standing by," he ordered, "but don't launch until my order."

"Commander," Tuvok said, "the energy signal the Borg sent
earlier was similar in nature to the one we received from the alien
vessels. It might be their method of communication."
"Look at modifying our communications equipment to broadcast
using those signals," Chakotay said. "Whatever their intentions,
we've got to warn them before the Borg try something."
"Looks like we're too late for that," Tom Paris, Voyager's
pilot, said as Chakotay's attention returned to the screen. "It's
heading right for them."
Chakotay took a deep breath. "Let's hope they learn quickly,"
he said quietly.

"Use the Ion Cannons," Thrawn said, his voice with a steel
edge to it. "Perhaps we can take it intact."
Silvery-blue beams launched from the three star destroyers,
washing over the Cube's surface. It was clear that they were striking
the ship itself, but there was no noticeable effect, not even on the
sensors.
"Cease fire," Thrawn said. There was an unusual tone to his
voice, as if he were about to make a chess move right into a trap that
he could feel was there but couldn't quite see. "Turbolasers," he
ordered.
While the message was relayed to the stations Jarrol stepped
over to Thrawn's side. "Shall we launch our missiles as well?" he
asked.
Thrawn didn't answer at first, he just stared at the image of
the cyborg on his datapad. "No," he said finally. "And no fighters.
Just fire our lasers and let's see what happens."

Due to the sheer size of the Borg Cube the star destroyers
turned their ships so the heavy turbolaser batteries on their dorsal
side could all be brought to bear, much like it did during a Base
Delta Zero. That much firepower could normal eradicate all life on a
world in little time, and with the rate the plasma bolts tore through
the tritanium hull of the Cube it seemed that would be the case here
as well.
But for the Borg the purpose of the attack wasn't to fight, it
was to learn about this new species. Their scans had revealed new
types of technology, and what little information their lost drone had
gathered indicated that there was some that could be of use to the
Collective. Because even though they had been cut off from the hive
mind, the Borg never for a moment deviated from their purpose: to
consume technology and cultures that would increase their own
perfection. That it would involve their own destruction wasn't even a
factor.
The Voyager bridge crew watched in amazement as the cube was
slowly torn to pieces by the aliens with few retaliatory shots of
their own. The last time they'd seen anything like this--the only
time actually--was Species 8472. It was clear that Chakotay wasn't
the only one thinking that. "It doesn't look like the Borg have
adapted yet," Harry Kim observed.
"I don't think they'll get the chance," Chakotay said as a
corner ten times Voyager's size broke off from the main mass of the
Cube.
Paris swiveled nervously in his pilot's chair. "I hate to be
the pessimist here," he remarked, his eyes glued to the screen. "But,
I have a feeling they're not going to just ignore us after they're
through with the Borg."
Chakotay had been thinking the same thing. "Any progress,
Tuvok?"
"I believe I have the answer," Tuvok said, "but I am unable to
send the response."
"Was the comm system damaged?" Chakotay asked as he came
around to the tactical panel.
"Negative. But there is a powerful distortion field that's
blocking our ability to communicate."
"Some kind of energy noise," Harry Kim said. "It's playing
havoc with our sensors as well. I think it's coming from those alien
ships."
Any further discussion was halted when the Cube ruptured in a
series of smaller explosions as individual power distribution nodes
failed. Random debris scattered across space, buffeting Voyager with
shrapnel. Mercifully the shields held, but as they watched the three
ships responsible close on their location it was clear that was where
there good fortune ended.

It was fifty thousand lightyears from where the battle just
ended to the Imperial capital of Coruscant, but for a master of the
Force distance was something that happened to other people. The
Emperor hadn't moved since he had summoned Mara Jade hours before. His
meditation was so deep she wondered if he would ever return. It was
clear why she had been called here; with Vader overseeing construction
on the Death Star she was the only one left who could feel that he was
still alive. Even this deep there was no mistaking the powerful
impression he left on the fabric of life, a neutron star on the rubber
sheet that was the Force. Despite herself Mara jumped when he spoke.
"There is a great disturbance in the force."
"Yes master, you have told me." She tried to disguise her
fear. There was something different about him, but she was afraid to
probe it for fear of rebuke or, even worse, actually discovering what
it was.
"No, not that. No mere Jedi can do this. This is
something... alien."
Mara Jade had received little training in the Force, so she
could only wait while her master pondered what he'd felt. He seemed
to reach a decision. "You will remain here with me on Coruscant."
That hadn't been what she'd expected. "But, I was to kill
Skywalker."
"He is no longer a cause for concern," the Emperor said
flatly. "We must prepare for an even greater challenge." He stood up
and reached out for Mara. "Come." Mara climbed the steps and then
knelt before him. "Are you prepared to give up the life you have led
until now? Will you leave that person behind, if it meant limitless
power at my side?"
"Yes, my master," she said. Immediately she felt her mind
stabbed. It was hate, a cold hate, a hate that was born from
isolation in the frozen stars, a hate weaned on pain and nurtured by
abandonment and isolation. It was a hatred so black it consumed the
light, boundless and barren, it allowed no room for pity or mercy or
compassion, but it offered a strength that Mara could never have
imagined.
It had been an instant, and it had been forever, but the
sensation ended and Mara found herself panting on the stairs to the
Emperor's throne. "Rise," he ordered, but with a touch of friendship
to his voice. "It is time to begin your training, my young
apprentice."




CHAPTER II.

On a small, isolated world in a back corner of the galaxy that
the universe seemed to have forgotten, there was a single settlement.
On this world sat a tiny mud hut which happened to be the home of one
of the two most powerful masters of the Force that lived. If any had
somehow found themselves in this particular area of the swampy planet
they would have heard the sound of a heated argument between that
master and a particularly unruly student.
"Unfortunate that I know the truth?!" Luke Skywalker
exclaimed, unable to restrain his frustration. To have spent years
believing that his father had been a champion of good only to learn
that he was the very symbol of darkness wasn't easy, and the fact that
his teachers had deliberately perpetuated that illusion made it all
the more painful. Darth Vader, greatest enemy of all Luke held dear,
was his own father. Considering the weight of that statement, he was
taking it pretty well.
"Not ready for the burden were you," Yoda said wearily,
although Luke wasn't really listening. The master coughed, but
whether it was to get his attention or just succumbing to his age was
unclear. "There is a great evil coming. Stopped it must be. Time
you will have, but squander it you must not. Mind what you have
learned, save you it can." He was interrupted by another coughing
fit. "Hear, and remember: Once you start down the dark path," he
warned with a choke in his voice, "forever will it dominate your
destiny."
Luke could sense his master's lifeforce starting to fade, and
his own concerns were pushed aside. "Master Yoda..." he said
impotently, knowing that very soon he'd be gone, just like Ben... just
like so many people he'd cared about. It was so hard to keep burying
the people he loved, and now, when this horrible truth was placed
before him, the one he most needed to guide him was going to die too.
Master Yoda, sensing his fear, spoke to him, his voice broken
as he struggled for every breath. "There... is... another...
Skywalker." And with that, he vanished.
After taking a few moments to come to terms with his grief,
Luke exited the small hut and walked towards his ship. Artoo, the
most loyal droid ever built, warbled at him with concern. Even he
could tell something was wrong, and there definitely was. This was
his burden now; Ben, Biggs, Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru, and now even Master
Yoda, they were all gone, leaving him to face this impossible task. "I
can't do it, Artoo," he said quietly, more to himself than to his
droid. The emptiness weighed on his soul. "I can't go on alone."
"Yoda will always be with you," a distant voice told him, and
it took Luke a moment to realize he'd actually heard it out loud.
"Obi-Wan," Luke said, feeling a mix of emotions. He was glad
for the company of his long lost friend, but the lie was so fresh in
his mind he couldn't hide his sense of betrayal. "Why didn't you tell
me?"
The shade sat on a log and Luke joined him, listening as the
old man explained what had happened. His father had been the champion
that he had remembered, but the promises of the dark side in the end
had been too much for him. He had fallen... become so afraid of
losing the woman he cared about that he'd become the agent of the evil
the two of them had always fought so hard to stop. That was why Luke
had been hidden away, to save him from the same fate as his mother;
and so had she. "Leia," Luke said, the answer suddenly so clear.
"Leia is my sister."
"Your insight serves you well," Obi-Wan said with approval.
Luke knew what he meant, that this wasn't his burden alone. If
he could train his sister in the ways of the Force, if she too became
a Jedi, there might be a way to accomplish the impossible. "There is
still good in him," Luke told the elder. "Perhaps together-"
"You have time," Obi-Wan said, "but not as much as you might
think. You must prepare yourself for the destiny that awaits you. You
face not only Darth Vader, but the Emperor and the forces of evil. Do
not take Yoda's warning lightly." Luke could sense his teacher's
anxiety. "I'm afraid that in the trials to come you will face enemies
more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
Luke was resolute. "I can save him." There was no doubt in
his mind.
"You must do what you must," Obi-Wan said. "But never forget
what he is. Whatever has happened, destiny is clear. You will face
Darth Vader again."

Traveling across the universe, a single message defied physics
by exceeding the speed of light due to a few scientific
technicalities. Even then, it took centuries to cross the great
emptiness between galaxies. It was a perfect metaphor for the
eventual recipients: unfeeling, ever patient, inevitable. The Borg
are not so much a force of arms as they are a force of nature. And
when they received the message and learned about the existence of a
race with new technology to acquire, their reaction was predictable.
Unfeeling, and ever patient. It would be theirs; it was inevitable.

Captain Janeway and her senior officers stood at attention in
the main shuttlebay as they watched the Imperial ship dock. There was
a palatable excitement in the room as the door opened and the first
member of the Galactic Empire set foot on a Federation starship. Hours
before, they had feared it would be as a conqueror.
"They defeated the Borg," Janeway had said with dismay as
Chakotay filled her in from the bridge.
Her first officer nodded. "They made it look easy. We were
nervous for a little while, but once Tuvok contacted them we were able
to explain the situation. They're called the Galactic Empire."
"I guess that means we're a little farther from home than we
thought," Janeway said.
Chakotay nodded. "Harry estimates we're on the other side of
the known universe. Fortunately the wormhole is still stable, but I'm
not sure heading back yet is such a good idea."
"Agreed," Janeway said. "The last thing we need are more Borg
looking for their missing cube."
"Admiral Thrawn has offered to tow us to an Imperial station
where we can repair the ship."
And that was the man: Admiral Thrawn. The man who had
destroyed a Borg Cube in minutes, and who had brought their ship to
the station for repairs. What they hadn't realized was that the
station was one hundred eighty light-years away, a journey of several
weeks for Voyager. The Incaciad had done it in eleven minutes. As
the captain of a ship trapped thirty-five thousand light-years from
home, that wasn't the kind of thing you failed to notice. With that
ability, Voyager could be home in days, and Janeway was ready to do
anything to get her hands on it, even if she had to resort to stealing
it.
Janeway stepped forward and greeted Admiral Thrawn. His skin
was blue, and his red eyes were rather intimidating, but he wore a
friendly enough expression as she approached. He was polite as she
made introductions and then began a tour of their ship. Eventually,
he seemed to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"I'm rather interested in that ship you were fighting," Thrawn
said as they left astrometrics. "The Borg?"
"The Borg," Janeway said, briefly reflected on her own
experience with them. "Not exactly the friendliest of races from our
side of the wormhole."
"Certainly not very personable," Thrawn agreed. "Are they
your enemies?"
"Only in the sense that we exist," Janeway said as they
entered the turbolift for the lower decks. "The Borg don't see anyone
besides themselves as anything except raw materials."
"Charming," Thrawn said as they exited the lift. A short way
up the corridor Janeway directed him to a door on the right.
"This is our transporter room," Janeway said.
Thrawn looked about it, his brow furrowed. "I'm not quite
sure I understand."
Janeway gestured towards the transporter pad. "This device
allows us to break down matter in one location and reconstitute it in
another." She was starting to feel hopeful; if this was technology
alien to the Empire she could possibly trade it for their own
technology: the hyperdrive.
"You do this with people?" he said, attempting to hide his
distaste.
"It's perfectly safe," Janeway said a bit too quickly.
Thrawn tapped his lips as he looked at the pad and the
controls thoughtfully. "I could see how it could be useful in moving
large amounts of cargo," he said finally.
"I'm so glad to hear you say that," Janeway said with a smile
that would put a Ferengi to shame.

In a different part of the galaxy, near Sullust, Luke wasted
little time in shedding his flight suit and heading down to the
meeting room in Home One. He wasn't certain what was being discussed,
but he knew it would revolve around the Emperor's new Death Star.
Having already gone against one, he was leery about a repeat
performance.
In a group like the Rebel Alliance there's always an attempt
to maintain military command and discipline, but in the end you are
dealing with just bush pilots, pirates, and militia. The noise of the
many arguments was a bit surprising, so Luke quickly slid over to
where Leia Organa and Han Solo, his closest friends, were sitting.
"What's going on?" he asked, noting the scowl on Han's face.
"Just five hundred people with five hundred different ideas
about how we should end the war," Han said cynically.
"The Emperor has changed his plans," Leia said. Her face was
a mask, but he could sense the conflict in her. She seemed uncertain
about what they should do herself. "Originally he was going to
inspect the Death Star, but now he seems content to wait for them to
get on schedule themselves."
Luke understood. "We were hoping to take advantage of it."
"Exactly," Lando Calrissian said, taking a seat next to Luke.
"The old man never leaves Coruscant, it would've been the perfect
opportunity to take him out of the picture for good."
"The Emperor is incidental," General Blissex said emphatically
as the argument toned down slightly. "The Death Star is a weapon of
unimaginable destruction and it must be destroyed."
"Agreed," General Madine said, "But at what cost? We prepared
for this assault knowing we had an opportunity to behead the Empire.
Without the Emperor the Death Star is a less important target."
"We need to do this now," Admiral Ackbar said. "With the
weapons systems non-operational we stand our best chance against it."
"It's too great a risk for too small a prize," Madine replied.
"The plan commits all of our resources. If we attempt and fail the
Alliance is finished, and with it any hope of restoring freedom to the
galaxy."
"If we wait, we only postpone the inevitable," General Blissex
said. "The Empire has already proven this weapon is not for show.
They used it against Alderaan because they sympathized with us. If
that weapon is complete, no one is going to be willing to risk helping
us. We'll lose our support and eventually be wiped out."
"Princess Organa," Mon Mothma said over the din. "You are the
senator from Alderaan. You've seen this weapon used first hand. What
is your opinion of all this?"
"She's not a military officer-" Blissex began, but wilted
under Mon Mothma's stare.
Leia took a deep breath, and Luke could feel that she was even
more conflicted. "The Emperor does nothing on a whim," she said
finally. "He has shown throughout his reign that he carefully plots
out his every choice. His tight rein on the military high command is
proof enough of that." Luke could sense the pain as she thought about
her homeworld. "No one is more aware than I of the threat that weapon
poses, but we can't let fear blind us to reality. The Emperor's
sudden behavior is indicative of something important, more important
than his pet project. Or, even worse, I fear he may have learned our
intentions, and altered his plans accordingly."
"How could he know?" General Reikken asked. "Are you
suggesting a spy amongst us?"
"I'm suggesting that the Emperor might have laid a trap for us
at Endor," Leia said. "And if so we'd be fools to step into it. If
not, if he changed his plans for some other reason, we may have our
priorities out of order."
"What could be more important than a Death Star?" Ackbar
demanded.
"That, admiral," Leia said, "is exactly what I'm afraid of
finding out."
After some time the group finally agreed to hold off on the
attack until the rebel spy network was able to learn more about the
Emperor's plans. There was still an almost funeral-like tension in
the air, regardless of everyone's view of the decision. They had had
their first real glimpse of the end, and it had been just as suddenly
lost. But as Ben had told him, Luke had time ahead of him, and he
planned to put it to good use. After the meeting he took Leia aside.
He didn't want to have to do it now, given her own burden at the
moment, but she had to know. "Leia," he said, finally finding the
courage to say the words, "I need to tell you something... something
rather incredible."

Admiral Thrawn's smile vanished after Janeway was transported
off the bridge of the Incaciad. It seemed like the woman would never
shut up, but after three days of conversations -enough time for the
engineering crews to install the new hyperdrive on Voyager- she had
filled him in on much of what lay on the other side of that wormhole.
Tens of thousands of splintered powers vying for their own little
share of their galaxy. Thrawn had little doubt what the Emperor and
his advisors would have in mind, and given his own proximity to the
anomaly... he suspected he'd have a very interesting opportunity in
that little ship. "Captain," he said, not even turning his head.
"Yes, admiral," Captain Jarrol replied.
"Have our fleet escort Voyager to the wormhole," Thrawn said,
his eyes never leaving the vessel. "Let's make sure she doesn't lose
her way."

"Engineering to the bridge," B'ellana Torres, Voyager's Chief
Engineer, said over the comm. "We're ready down here."
Janeway was literally on the edge of her seat in anticipation.
"Seven?"
"I've established a link between our astronavigational
database and long-range sensors," Seven said as she entered some
commands in astrometrics. "I've fed the data through to the helm."
She finished tapping the panel. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Paris."
"You heard her, Tom," Janeway said, fidgeting with excitement.
"Set course for the wormhole, maximum..." she stopped short.
"Velocity," she shrugged at Chakotay, who smirked at her.
"I'm sure they'll come up with a name for it soon enough," he
replied.
"Course laid in," Tom Paris said at the helm. "Engaging the
hyperdrive." With a single push of a button, the stars began to
stretch and turn, and the Voyager crew found space suddenly replaced
with a kind of milky-white pattern around them.
Janeway stood up and approached the screen. She had been in
Engineering when the Incaciad had brought them to the Imperial
station, and hadn't witnessed hyperspace before. "It's beautiful,"
she said quietly, the tiniest hint of emotion in her voice.
"Yes it is," Harry said. "It's the way home."
Almost as suddenly the starlines returned, and the normal
ebony of space spread out before them. "Are we there?" Janeway said,
her voice still barely audible.
"Yes, captain," Paris said. "And for the record we made it in
12 minutes, 41 seconds. Just might be a new Starfleet record."
"Let's hope we have an opportunity to challenge that record,"
Janeway said. "Give our thanks to-"
Captain Janeway never finished. Instead space twisted in on
itself before her, and the ominous sight of three Borg Cubes filled
the screen in front of her. "Oh my God," she whispered. "They found
the wormhole." She watched the Cubes pass Voyager and fly towards
their star destroyer escort. "What have we done?"


CHAPTER III.

The Napuli System was, for the most part, a strategically
useless area of space. Little mineral wealth, no known colonies or
life, and a hundred light-years from a settled system, it was as
important in the grand scheme as a blade of grass is to a wheat field.
However, the fact that the first fleet engagement of the Borg War was
taking place here showed that things can change in an instant.
"All TIEs stand by," Thrawn ordered. "But do not launch
unless I give the word." Despite the seriousness of the situation his
voice was calm, but firm. He had learned a great deal about these
Borg, but most of it was second-hand. Still, Thrawn had experience
using little bits of information for his advantage.
"Admiral," Captain Jarrol said anxiously, "We're receiving a
communication. They-"
"I know what they want," Thrawn interrupted, his eyes never
leaving the three vessels. He was very quiet. "All turbolasers on
the center cube," he finally said. "From all vessels."
Jarrol hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. To him, it
was insane to ignore two-thirds of the opposing forces when they could
try to incapacitate all three, but he'd learned more than once to
follow his commander's orders regardless. Immediately their weapons
began tearing into the central cube. He kept his eyes on the sensors,
watching the devastation. The first cube they had encountered had
taken little time to destroy, and this one didn't look different,
until. "Lieutenant," he said with obvious confusion, "is there a
problem with the sensors?"
"Negative, sir," the lieutenant reported from the crewpit.
Jarrol turned away and stepped over. "Then why do the
instruments insist our weapons are doing less damage?" he said with
obvious irritation.
"It's not the instruments," Thrawn said quietly, his eyes
never leaving the tactical display. "It's them."
"What do you mean?" Jarrol asked. "Sir," he quickly added.
Thrawn looked back at the ship and then the display, and when
he spoke, it was as if he were discussion the duty roster. "The Borg,
captain, have adapted."

"Re-route power to the shields," Janeway ordered. "Evasive
maneuvers. Load all torpedo bays."
"Captain," Tuvok said, a calm center on the storm of the
bridge as always, "the Borg appear to be focusing solely on the
Imperials."
"Then give them something else to think about," she replied.
"Torpedoes, full spread."
One after the other the torpedoes exploded from the tubes and
impacted on the Borg ship. When the series completed itself, the
space glowed from the discharged plasma. But..."no effect," Tuvok
said.
"Bring us around," Janeway said, taking her seat. "Attack
along the same vector as the Imperials; we might be able to punch
through."
"Captain," Chakotay said quickly, "Maybe we should leave this
to the Imperials. They were more than a match last time."
"The Borg hadn't adapted yet," Janeway countered. "This time
they will, and the admiral will need every ship he can get." Chakotay
opened his mouth, but Janeway cut him off before he could even start.
"We brought them here. We are obligated to stop them. Tom, bring us
around."
The Intrepid-class starship weaved into the conflagration
between the titans, phasers and torpedoes trying to breach Borg
defenses. After a few minutes the combined efforts blew the cube to
pieces. A few words of encouragement were said, then the group moved
on to the next cube. "Torpedoes, full spread," Janeway ordered as the
tiny Federation ship dodged the Borg's energy weapon and closed in.
"There are only two torpedoes left," Tuvok informed her. "Do
you wish me to fire them?"
"Not yet," Janeway said. In the heat of the moment she'd
forgotten how the previous battle had seriously reduced their limited
supply. "Try to find an opening, then launch it down their throats."

"Sir," Captain Jarrol said as Thrawn continued looking between
the battle and the tactical display, "the Lucinda's shields are
failing. The Borg have been-"
"They're using a shield draining weapon," Thrawn finished.
"Set the jammers to a randomized pattern."
"Yes," Jarrol said as he passed on the order, but his
confusion was obvious.
"If the jamming is regular," Thrawn said, even though his
attention was focused on the battle, "they might find a way to
minimize it and use their transporters. We mustn't let that happen.
Launch all TIEs." He tapped the console as he watched the reports
coming in from the Lucinda. The Borg had ganged up on it in precisely
the same manner as the star destroyers. Shields were failing. "I
want TIEs to target all tractor beam emitters. The Borg can't be
allowed to assimilate any part of the Lucinda; not one member of the
crew, not so much as a wrench. Are my orders clear?" They were;
Thrawn was not one to resort to hyperbole.

"Captain!" Ens. Kim shouted with concern. "I'm reading
hundreds of ships, too many to get a precise count."
"More Borg?" Janeway asked, her heart in her throat.
"No," Kim replied, more restrained, "they're from the Imperial
ships. They appear to be large shuttles."
"They're not evacuating, are they?" Janeway asked Chakotay in
confusion.
"I don't think so, Captain," Tom Paris said as he pointed to
the display. They watched as the ships swarmed around Voyager and
swooped in at the cubes, their weapons tiny pinpoints as they fired at
the massive ships.
"It looks like Thrawn had a little surprise planned," Chakotay
remarked.
"Hopefully this will turn the tide," Janeway remarked as they
joined in the attack with the fighters.
"I don't think so, Captain," Kim said, his disappointment
transparent. "They've begun assimilating one of the star destroyers."

The bridge was a buzz of controlled activity as the task of
running a warship and coordinating a battle continued with the fine
precision Thrawn demanded of his officers. The admiral himself was
silently weighing the factors in his cold mind. The difference
between Thrawn's thinking and a military computer's was that the
computer was not aware of the moral consequences of its decisions. The
difference between Thrawn and most officers was that he didn't allow
that to influence his thinking.
"Give me Captain Tamez," Thrawn said. Activity in the room
quieted slightly; the admiral rarely spoke with the other vessels
directly during combat. "Captain," Thrawn said as the hologram
appeared on the bridge, "can you raise your shields?"
"No sir," Tamez replied, doing his best not to display any
emotion as the Borg tried to carve his ship apart around him.
"Captain, I want you to ram the port cube." He spoke as if it
were a minor course correction.
"Say again?" Tamez replied.
"The Borg are assimilating you," Thrawn said. "They want to
take you and your crew and turn you into brainless slaves. If you
don't destroy them, this will happen."
"We have them outnumbered-"
"You won't last that long," Thrawn said, "and we are short on
time. You can die a slave or die fighting to save the Empire. I
suggest you choose the latter."
Tamez obviously didn't like either choice. "Admiral-"
"Ramming speed," Thrawn said. "Those are your orders."
Tamez took a deep breath through his nose. "Yes, admiral." He
tried to put as much pride into the words as he could, and the
hologram faded. The bridge remained quiet as Thrawn's order seemed to
hang in the air.
Thrawn stepped back to his position in front of the tactical
display. He could explain to them that anything the Borg assimilated
could be used to learn about the Empire and how to destroy it, and
that even obliterating the vessels wouldn't keep that knowledge from
being passed on to the collective. Of course, he was also the
admiral, and he explained to no one but the Emperor. "Unless we wish
to share their fate," he said evenly, "we must focus on the task at
hand."

The bridgecrew of Voyager watched in shock as the star
destroyer and the cube collided in an explosion so energetic they were
flashblinded. An energy wave struck and knocked them off balance.
When Janeway managed to right herself she was able to make out the
shattered remains of the cube; the star destroyer was vaporized.
"Death before assimilation," Chakotay said grimly. "I'm sure
a few Federation captains had similar thoughts."
"Earth," Janeway said quietly. She looked at Chakotay, and
noticed the odd way he looked at her. "Captain Riker was prepared to
do the same thing to save Earth when the Borg first came." She shook
her head. "We have more in common with these Imperials than physical
appearance." She called out orders for battle to finish off the
remains of the final cube, but part of her couldn't stop thinking
about what had happened.

Luke looked on with some concern as Leia held the lightsaber
tightly in her hands. He could sense her fear, which was an important
concern. His family didn't have a good history with the dark side.
"Relax," he told her, "Don't try to force it. Just let it happen." He
activated the remote, which began to move with a series of small,
deliberate motions. Every few seconds a beam would lash out--not
strong, just enough to sting. Leia swung the blade, but missed. This
repeated until Luke could sense her frustration. "I know it seems
hard, but that's just it. It only seems hard because you think it is.
Stretch out with your feelings, and don't worry about whether you
block or not. Just let your instincts guide you."
"Easy to say," Leia said through gritted teeth, "hard to do."
The blade was brought up, almost blocking the latest bolt.
"Like all things, it takes practice and patience." Which was
true, but there was no sense in going too hard on her on her first
day. Luke stretched out with the Force and turned the remote to a
lower setting. He felt a flash of anger.
"I don't need you to go soft on me," Leia told him. "I just
need to get the hang of things."
Luke nodded with a small smile. "How did you know?" he asked.
Leia opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. "I don't
know. I just... just knew."
"Now you're starting to understand," he said with approval.
"Trust your feelings, don't second guess them."
Leia took a deep breath then held the lightsaber out in front
of her, eyes fixed on the remote. It fired, slow at first, then
faster. The green blade slipped through the air with a quiet hum as
it snatched at each sliver of energy, bouncing it away harmlessly.
Luke switched it off and clapped his hands a few times. "You've taken
the first step," he said with approval. "But there's something you
must always remember. Take these steps only along the proper path."
He paused, realizing that it was only a week ago that he was the
pupil. He wished Master Yoda was there to train her, to give the
guidance that Leia needed to avoid the trap their father had stepped
into and that he nearly succumbed to as well. That was Yoda's last
warning to him, something that, even as he died, he wanted Luke to
remember. He would face his father again; would he face the dark side
again as well? And more importantly, could he find the strength to
refuse it, or would he give in to temptation?
"Are you all right?" Leia asked.
Luke tried to put on a cheerful face. She was definitely
growing in her powers. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Let's
continue with your exercises."

"Are they gone?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes, your highness," the hologram replied. Mara stopped her
exercise, her instincts telling her that something important was going
on. After a few seconds she recognized the hologram as Thrawn, one of
the more gifted military commanders, but nevertheless an alien.
However good they might be, never trust an alien, or so the Emperor
had taught her; and he was right. Thrawn may command in his navy, but
the Emperor did not for an instant allow that to cloud his judgment of
the creature.
"What do you know about this Federation?" the Emperor asked.
"They are but one of thousands of minor powers located in
their galaxy," Thrawn replied. "Many have little knowledge of the
existence of most of the others. Communication on the galactic scale
is virtually non-existent."
"That can be used to our advantage," the Emperor replied.
"What of the leader you spoke with?"
Thrawn chuckled. "Janeway is extremely naïve. She seems to
take everything at face value. After the Lucinda was destroyed she
gave us all tactical information they had on the Borg, no matter how
obscure. There is a multitude of details we can use to deduce
information about tactical and strategic possibilities against a great
deal of powers in their galaxy. And of course, the information on the
Borg itself will be extremely useful."
"Indeed," the Emperor said. "What is your assessment of these
Borg?"
"They are obviously a threat, you highness," Thrawn replied
simply. "They no doubt want to assimilate us as well, and since it's
impossible to negotiate with them, armed conflict is unavoidable."
"Then you are recommending that we prepare for war," the
Emperor replied.
"Your Excellency, I suggest that we deter them from that
course. A retaliatory strike into their territory as a direct
response to their invasion would demonstrate that further conflicts
with the Empire would not be in their best interests."
Mara could sense the Emperor's mood sour. Was Thrawn
attempting some duplicity? "I thought you said these Borg are
unreasonable."
"Your highness, the Borg cannot be reasoned with, but they
are, in the end, beings of logic."
The Emperor was silent for several minutes, but Thrawn said
nothing, a wise choice as far as Mara was concerned. Her master was
right, this alien couldn't be trusted. However, the Borg were
definitely a threat if they could cause the destruction of a star
destroyer. "I want you to take command of a task force of vessels
from the nearest space station, and cross into this Milky Way galaxy."
"Yes, your excellency," Thrawn replied.
Mara could sense the Emperor's irritation. He had no doubt
been expecting Thrawn to presume he would command the war effort, and
thus humiliate him by denying it. "I want a station built on the
other side of the wormhole to serve as a launch platform for our
efforts and to maintain communication throughout the conflict. See
that it is built quickly and protected from the Borg."
Thrawn nodded and the hologram faded. The Emperor turned
towards Mara, his gaze causing her to wither slightly. The more she
grew in her power, the more she could sense how great the gap was
between them. He noticed her reaction, as he noticed everything, and
a smile drew to his lips at her fear. "Good," he said slowly. "Fear
is the path to strength. Terror, hatred, passion, these are the
things of power. Embrace them, my young apprentice."
"Yes, my master," she replied with a slight bow. She
hesitated, unsure if it was her place to speak with him of such
things. "Master, do you really trust such an important matter in the
hands of the Chiss?"
The Emperor waved the remark away as he returned to his
throne. "He is an able planner and a skilled tactician, but I would
not be so foolish as to trust him with this campaign. Darth Vader's
fleet has the most capable officers in the navy; they will deal with
the Borg."
"But what of the rebels," Mara replied. "If they attack while
the fleet is gone-"
"The rebels will not attack," the Emperor replied. "And if
they were so foolish, the battlestation is shielded, and no army in
existence can equal the one I have placed to guard the generator. No,
my young pupil, the rebels are no threat."
Mara nodded her agreement, but the Emperor could sense her
thoughts. He chuckled. "Yes, you are correct child. One must never
underestimate one's enemy, no matter how nearly vanquished they might
be." It was a lesson her master had impressed on her from day one; a
lesson one of her predecessors had learned from a lightsaber point.
"The rebel support will wither once my battlestation is operational,
lest they suffer the same fate as Alderaan. You need not always
battle to win, young Mara, you can succeed merely by using your
enemy's fears against them."
"I still don't understand."
The Emperor smiled, and Mara could sense he was thinking about
the Federation and its neighbors. "You will child. You will."

CHAPTER IV.

Captain Janeway tried not to fidget in front of the admirals,
but it wasn't easy. With the celebrations of Voyager's return ending,
the reality of all that had happened had sunk in. For five years she
had no superior officers to deal with, no one to report to but her own
conscience. Now that she was home, those five years were about to be
placed under a microscope.
"Captain, before we begin," said Admiral Parks, the senior
officer present, "I want you to understand that this is not an
official inquiry or a disciplinary investigation. We just want to
clear up some of the events that took place during your absence."
Janeway nodded. "I understand, admiral." She was glad none of
them were telepaths and could tell what a lie that was.
"Good," Parks turned to a white-haired man at the end of the
row. "Adm. Jellico, I believe you had a topic of particular concern."
Admiral Jellico nodded. "Captain Janeway. You ascribed your
speedy return to a group called the," he turned to his notes, "the
Galactic Empire?"
"Yes," Janeway answered, "we worked out an exchange with a
representative of the Empire wherein they were given transporter
technology and we were given their propulsion device."
Jellico consulted his notes again. "A device called a
'hyperdrive'."
"Yes. They showed interest in our transporters, and we
obviously needed their device a great deal."
"Enough to violate the Prime Directive?" Jellico replied.
The suddenness of the remark caught her off guard. "What do
you mean, sir?" Janeway replied.
"According to your report," Jellico said, "the Empire is not
only on the other side of the universe, but is existing at a time far
earlier than our own."
"Yes," Janeway replied. "We discovered that the wormhole
displaces in space as well as time, at the speed of subspace in fact."
"Very convenient," Jellico said with disinterest, "but it
doesn't explain why you deliberately gave technology to a society that
existed, by your own admission, before our own."
Janeway's voice dropped in pitch. "We didn't know about this
at the time. It wasn't until the Borg showed up that we realized it.
In either case, I stand by my actions."
"Even though they violate Starfleet regulations?" Jellico
asked pointedly.
"Yes," Janeway remained stoic, "I do."
Janeway expected the barrage to continue, but Jellico suddenly
reversed thrusters, catching her off guard. "Would you not in fact
say that your actions were necessary to ensure the safety of your
crew?"
"Yes," she replied, wondering if she'd just stepped into
Jellico's trap.
"Would you describe the Galactic Empire as being hostile?"
Janeway was growing more suspicious, but she firmly believed
that the truth justified her. "In every encounter I had with them,
the Empire showed they were civilized and cooperative."
Admiral Parks spoke up. "Would you be willing to testify to
that before the Federation Council?"
"Yes," she replied, but didn't understand. She said as much.
"It's really quite simple, captain," Jellico said. "We want
you to tell all of this to the Federation Council tomorrow."
"To accomplish what?"
"A lot has happened while you were gone, captain." Parks
hesitated. "The Federation is in trouble. We've been having diplomatic
negotiations with practically every two-bit planet in our part of
space. We need support if we are to survive."
She'd been gone too long, Janeway realized. She'd forgotten
about how much of a hotbed the alpha quadrant can be. It fell into
place in an instant. "Then what you want..."
Jellico finished, "We think the Federation should form an
alliance with the Empire."

Seven of Nine waited outside the briefing room, hands clasped
behind her back in what passed for a relaxed pose, moving only as much
as was required to remain alert. It was for this reason she was aware
of the small group of Starfleet personnel - cadets, she noted from
their insignia - that had gathered to stare at her since she and
Captain Janeway had arrived. Scoptophobia was an irrational fear, as
was paranoia; human foibles that she as a Borg had grown far beyond.
Their whisphered discussions about her were of no concern, no concern
at all.
"Do you require something?" she asked, causing the small crowd
to jump at the suddenness of her remark. Despite herself she hadn't
been able to keep the belligerence out of her voice.
"Um," one of the female cadets said as her classmates
distanced themselves from her slightly, "we were wondering if it was
true... what they said, I mean. That you're a Borg."
"I am an individual now," Seven replied.
"But, you were a Borg," the cadet replied. "You used to be."
Seven resisted the pointless desire to rub her hands together
at the uncomfortable situation. "Yes," she finally replied.
"Does it hurt when you're assimilated?" someone else asked.
"I don't remember," Seven replied.
"I thought Borg never forget anything," the first cadet
replied.
"We do not waste valuable resources on the pointless
recollection of pain."
"Did you ever help assimilate anyone?"
Seven wrung her hands instinctively. "Yes," she replied
quietly.
"Did they show they were in pain? Did they want you to stop?"
"I don't remember," she said sharply.
"Mr. Hicks," a voice came from behind Seven, "are you in
charge of this gathering?" All the cadets drew to attention. Seven
glanced between them and a white-haired man that had just exited the
briefing room.
"No, sir," the female cadet replied.
"You are now," he said. "Since your classmates have nothing
better to do than gawk in a hallway, I think you can find the time to
inventory the cargo containers at Docking Platform #2. I'll inform
the quartermaster that you will personally have it on her desk by 2100
hours."
"Yes sir," she replied, and with a nod from the officer they
rushed off. As they left the man joined with a small group of others
who had just left the briefing room. Seven noted the smile on Captain
Janeway's face, a complete reversal of her previously somber attitude.
"Your debriefing went well?" Seven asked.
"Better than well," Janeway replied as the two started walking
through the corridors of Starfleet Command. "It seems our little
detour through the wormhole may have a much larger consequence than
we'd thought."
"The hyperdrive will bring substantial changes," Seven
remarked. "Further tradings for Imperial technology would be wise."
"Off the record," Janeway remarked, a phrase that Seven still
failed to understand, "it's going to be a lot bigger than that." They
drew to a halt as the cadet returned. "Can we help you?" Janeway
asked politely.
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied nervously, then turned to Seven.
"I just wanted to apologize on behalf of myself and everyone else. We
didn't mean to offend you."
"I do not take offense," Seven replied.
"Well, what we did was rude, and as future Starfleet officers
we should've known better."
Seven looked at Captain Janeway nervously, then back. "You
should be completing the admiral's orders. It would be a mistake to
neglect your duty by talking to me." She continued walking, the girl
looking oddly between her and Janeway before the captain rushed to
catch up.
"Was there a problem?" Janeway asked with concern.
"No," Seven said curtly.
Captain Janeway nodded, clearly not believing it but knowing
better than to bring it up now. "Let's get back to the ship. I think
we've spent enough time on Earth for right now."
Seven took a deep breath. "Agreed," she replied with a hint
of exhaustion.

Lt. Delric Taar tapped his datapad absentmindedly on the table
in front of him as he waited for the fleet-wide briefing to begin.
Whatever was going on made him edgy; the zero hour for the rebel
attack had come and gone, and command refused to breathe a word to the
lower decks of what was going on, even though it was obvious something
was up. The fleet had left the incomplete Death Star undefended days
ago, a dangerous move in his opinion. Of course, there was no love
lost between himself and the Death Star. More than one of his friends
had left the service over Alderaan, their hatred overwhelming their
loyalty for order and peace. Now he'd been forced to blow his former
wingmates away, and all because of a superweapon that was, by its very
nature, a tactically useless tool.
According to the rebellion, Alderaan had been destroyed by
Grand Moff Tarkin just to spite a rebel spy. Of course, it was
probably just propaganda, but down deep Taar had to wonder whether or
not anyone could command such power and be able to show restraint. He
wasn't optimistic, especially with Moff Jerjerrod in command. He'd
seen the moff's reaction to Lord Vader, and putting ultimate power in
the hands of a whiny sycophant was like giving an infant a thermal
detonator to play with.
Before he could continue the thought the holograms of other
squadron leaders appeared throughout the room, the fleet flight
coordinator appearing in the center. Taar got his datapad ready as
the briefing began.
"Squadron leaders," the major began, "meet your new enemy."
The rotating image of a cube-shaped object appeared on each table, a
smaller one of a star destroyer alongside it for scale. "They're
called the Borg, and it is our responsibility to ensure that they pose
no threat to the Empire." Taar took notes as the previous battles
involving the Borg were given, the known points of their defenses, and
the reason for the upcoming mission.
"We are going to cross through the wormhole and into Borg
space," the major continued. "Since they have no concept of diplomacy
we plan to annihilate enough ships and planets to show them that
further attacks on the Empire would be a devastating mistake. Any
questions?"
Taar spoke up. "Sir, Interceptors, as the very name implies,
are meant to deal with fighter craft. They cause minimal damage to
corvettes. What possible use do they have against a ship this size?"
The major exhaled in annoyance. "We've determined that
swarming the cubes with fighters will provide a distraction that will
allow our star destroyers to do their work."
Don't say it, Delric. Don't say it, Delric. "So we're flying
targets. Sir." You shouldn't have said it. The major's look of
scorn agreed with that sentiment.
"I think the major was impressed with your tactical
assessments," Lt. Starrunner, squadron leader for Grey Squadron,
remarked after the briefing was over.
"Kriff him," Taar said with disgust. "These guys get taken
out of the pilot seat and suddenly they forget what it's like to have
inches of plexisteel between you and death."
"This is messed up," Starrunner agreed. "You heard how
accurate those Borg can get. They're asking us to basically die when
we can't fight back. And do you think my bombers have a chance of
staying ahead and outmaneuvering these Borg?"
"Not without cover," Taar said. He sighed, then rapped his
datapad on the hull a couple of times. "Lohl," he said finally,
"let's get our squadrons together for some simulations. Maybe there's
a way we can fight back against the Borg after all."

Jean-luc Picard, captain of the Federation flagship,
Enterprise, sighed with impatience as he waited outside the office of
Adm. Parks. After six weeks of separation from my ship you would
think I'd be used to it, he thought gloomily. He wasn't accustomed to
being out of the loop, at least not when it came to the Enterprise.
That Data, Geordi, and his engineering staff were allowed on board was
all the more infuriating, but at least now he could speak to someone
who could give him information, maybe even access to his ship again.
He got to his feet as that someone arrived.
"Apologies for the delay, Jean-luc," Adm. Parks said, shaking
his hand.
"Not at all," Picard lied. "It seems these days time is
something I have plenty of."
Parks laughed as he led Picard into his office. "Yes, there's
a fine line between R&R and boredom, isn't there."
"Exactly," Picard said, hoping this meant the admiral was
going to let him in on what was happening.
Parks took his seat, offering Picard a chair as he did.
"Jean-luc, I know it's not easy being kept in the dark on what goes on
on your own vessel, but believe me, it's in the name of Federation
security."
"Indeed," Picard said neutrally. It seemed to him that a lot
was being done in the name of Federation security lately, and he
wasn't all that pleased with where that was leading. The declaration
of martial law remained a particular sore spot with him, and a
reminder that their society was not as rock-solid as he'd like to
think.
"We have an opportunity to forever change the balance of power
in this quadrant," Parks continued. "A chance to ensure that the
Romulans, the Cardassians, not even the Dominion will be able to
threaten the Federation again."
"A new weapon?"
"An ally," Parks answered. "Someone with resources and
technology that, along with our own strength, will deter practically
any power that might try to wage war on us."
"And you're afraid someone might form a treaty with these
people first," Picard said.
"Not exactly. No one can reach them in any reasonable amount
of time; they exist on the other side of a wormhole that's over
halfway across the galaxy."
Picard was a bit baffled. "I'm not sure I understand. How
helpful can this power be if it would take decades just to reach
them?"
Parks smiled. "Because right now we're the only ones who can
reach them without taking decades." He explained to Picard about
Voyager's encounter with the Borg, the Empire, and the new hyperdrive.
"And this is what you've been doing with the Enterprise all
this time," Picard concluded at the end. "Installing this
hyperdrive."
"Yes," Parks confirmed. "You can see the need for security.
Even without the possibility of an alliance, the ability to deploy our
forces at hundreds of times the speed of our enemies gives us an
incredible advantage. If that technology were stolen, it could be
damning."
"I understand," Picard added. "But there's something I'm not
clear on. If this treaty with the Empire is so important, why did we
not send Voyager? They have a functioning hyperdrive."
"Yes, but that's about all that's functioning. Voyager's been
flying through Borg space for some time; she wasn't in the best shape
when she returned. And besides that, a mission of this importance
requires a captain with a skill for diplomacy, and I think there's no
one better qualified."
With each passing second the frustrations of the previous
weeks was replaced with anticipation as Picard thought of the
magnitude of this mission. A mission of diplomacy to a civilization
that spanned an entire galaxy was beyond the expectations of even the
most fanciful cadets. "When do we leave?" he asked, now all the more
impatient to get back to his ship and begin this historic trip.
"Three days," Parks replied. "The hyperdrive should be
finished tomorrow, which should give your people enough time to
familiarize themselves with the new equipment and prep for the
mission."
"Will Captain Janeway be giving us a briefing?"
"Better. She's re-assigning a member of her crew to act as
your advisor on both the delta quadrant and the Galactic Empire."
"Who?"
"She hasn't decided yet," Parks answered. "She needs someone
who's not only familiar with their technology, but has expertise in
delta quadrant astrometrics and dealings with the Imperials. Finding
someone who fits that bill won't be easy, and giving them up will
probably be even harder."
"Well," Picard said as he rose to his feet, "I'll certainly
look forward to meeting whoever is up to that challenge."

Seven of Nine walked through the door to the captain's ready
room. As always, Capt. Janeway was seated behind her desk, a PADD in
one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. She was nothing if not
predictable. "You wished to see me, captain," Seven stated.
Janeway continued to look at the PADD. "Yes, Seven, please sit
down."
"Unnecessary, I'm comfortable standing."
Janeway put down the PADD. "Yes, of course you are. I forgot,
the Borg even sleep standing."
"Inaccurate. The Borg regenerate, they do not sleep."
Janeway came around and sat on the edge of her desk. "Yes...."
Janeway continued after a brief pause. "Everything is in order, all
damage to the ship has been repaired, and I've finally got my private
dining room back," she added with a slight smile. "Some of the Maquis
officers have asked to transfer to Starfleet, and permission has been
granted for them to remain at their current posts. I've even persuaded
them to keep the Doctor on line as our chief medical officer, although
that took a little convincing."
"I assume you're not updating the ship's status with the
entire crew in this manner."
"No." Janeway had a look of disappointment. "That leaves us
with our two resident civilians. Mr. Neelix has already departed. That
leaves us with you."
Seven breathed a little heavily, then began to speak. "If you
do not wish me to remain on board I will leave. I understand that
circumstances have changed."
Janeway stepped forward and grabbed Seven's hand. "That's not
what I'm saying. You've been an asset to this ship. There's a chance
that we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. We don't want you to
leave. But it would be selfish of us to force you to remain on board.
We'd be denying you new experiences, a chance to explore your
humanity." Seven was uncharacteristically silent. "Going from life
on Voyager to life on Earth isn't going to be an easy transition,"
Janeway continued. "I think that's obvious to the both of us."
Seven nodded slowly, not looking at her captain. "Adapting
would be... difficult."
"Perhaps it's time for a small step in the right direction."
Janeway turned and picked up the PADD off her desk. "And I think we
have the perfect opportunity for you to take that step. Tell me, are
you familiar at all with the Enterprise?"



CHAPTER V.

"There is something wrong."
It was the voice you hoped to never hear, especially directed
at yourself. It was, on its own intimidating, with its resonant bass
overlaid on that haunting rhythm. The mechanical breathing chilled,
as if a subtle reminder of universal mortality. Yet even then the
voice did nothing to prepare you for the man; two meters of strength
embodied in flesh and machinery. An imposing body that was completed
by an expressionless mask for a face to leave this man all the more
inhuman. Throughout the Empire his reputation was so legendary, so
terrifying, he literally needed no introduction.
Commander Pakkib knew that reputation as well, and ever since
the Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived on the incomplete Death Star he
had felt fear gnawing at his entrails. The personal inspection had
gripped the entire station with similar despair, given that Darth
Vader's disappointment rarely led to anything but death. At the
moment, he sounded too disappointed for Pakkib's liking.
"What's seems to be the problem, my lord," Pakkib managed to
ask. While he knew of nothing wrong, it was obvious contradicting
Vader could only make things worse.
"A tremor in the Force," Vader declared. No one knew if he
was staring at them behind that mask, but no one made any effort to
draw attention to themselves. Commander Pakkib tried to ignore the
beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead with each inhale and
exhale. "I want a complete check of the computer systems," Vader
finally said. "And I want it done manually. Every last bit is to be
analyzed."
"Understood my Lord," Pakkib replied. He swallowed slightly
and continued. "But I must tell you that it will take several
technicians to complete this assignment. It may start putting us
behind." Better to face Lord Vader's wrath now than live in fear of
its approach.
"Perhaps someone else could impel them to remain on schedule."
"No," Pakkib said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I was just
keeping your lordship appraised. We will remain on schedule."
"Good," Vader implied, but there was no trace of satisfaction.
"I'll expect your report very soon."
The anticipation was now far worse than whatever punishment
the dark lord might offer. Pakkib turned to three of his technicians.
"You are relieved of your current assignment. Your new task is to
carry out Lord Vader's command - any anomalous files are to be
analyzed in detail. This is your top priority." He turned to the
others present. "The rest of you continue. We will remain on
schedule, whatever the cost," he declared. Several hours later,
one of the technicians hailed him on the comm system, his voice
betraying obvious surprise and concern. "Sir," he said, "we've found
what looks like some kind of droid memory file in the main computer."
"What?" Droid memory files are rarely backed up at all, and
definitely wouldn't be stored in an area where it could potentially
access vital systems. Having it on the main computer of a Death Star
was about as bad as it could possibly get. "Erase the file
immediately," he ordered. The technician acknowledged it, but a
second later there was the sound of blaster fire and screaming. The
autodefenses had killed him and the other two members of his team.
Pakkib realized he was wrong; the worst it could possibly be was a
hostile droid with control of the station. Chaos descended as Pakkib
and his men began trying to isolate the rogue program, but apparently
during all this time, the droid mind had been searching for ways to
get around them. Every time they tried to throw up a programming
wall, the droid found a way to bypass it. Every time they tried to
physically remove its connection, they were attacked by the automated
defenses. As the droid continued to assert more and more control
Pakkib began contemplating the only solution: evacuate the station and
overload the reactor. It would be a disaster, but nothing compared to
a rogue Death Star.
"What's the situation?" Vader demanded, causing Pakkib to
visibly jump. Pakkib quickly filled him in. "The main computer is
located in there?" he asked, pointing at the doorway.
Pakkib nodded. "But the defenses have been activated, which
means the laser gate's armed and the computer's shielded, so we can't
shoot it. We'd have to cut the power at the junction but it's
impossible to reach from outside the room.
Vader walked up to the door to examine it. Beyond, he could
see the dead bodies of the other technicians. The lasergate was the
ultimate deterrent. Anything trying to penetrate would be blasted, and
any attempt to destroy the weapons would cause an explosion strong
enough to kill any would be invader. A perfect barrier - for anyone
who wasn't a master of the dark side. The crew looked on in
astonishment as Vader took three steps back, then ran and dove through
the opening. The weapons fired, but the Dark Lord twisted his body to
avoid most of them. One blast did strike just below his right
shoulder, but the beam dissipated with no effect. Vader rolled once
across the floor and into a fighting stance, his lightsaber ignited.
Automatic security devices began firing, and the blade snapped out and
deflected them. One, two, then the third came and he deflected it
right into the junction, causing the shield around the main computer
to collapse. He sprang, cape billowing behind him, lightsaber
continuing to snatch the blaster bolts out of the air until he landed
and stabbed straight through the casing. After that, there was
silence, save for the sizzling sound of broken electronics.
Pakkib was so shocked at what had just happened that it didn't
really register until the dark lord was standing right in front of
him. His awe gave way slowly to fear; he noticed several technicians
jump when the lightsaber was turned off. "Who was responsible for
checking the programming of that computer?" he demanded.
Pakkib hesitated for a moment, while the various parts of his
brain tried to shake themselves loose to dig through the metaphorical
files. "Lt. Teklif, my lord."
Vader turned and looked over the assembled group; they shrank
back as the blank mask passed over them. "You are aware that this
incident will put us even farther behind schedule?" Vader asked.
Pakkib nodded. "Yes," was all he could say.
Immediately, one of the technician's eyes grew wide and he
began grasping at his throat. Those who were nearby began moving away
slowly as his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor.
Vader turned back to Pakkib, who closed his eyes. At least it would
be relatively quick, if not particularly pleasant. But instead of the
grip on his throat, Vader began to walk away. "Inform your superior
that you will need a new computer." He paused, then turned back. "And
a new technician."

"Admiral," the captain said, and Piett walked over to the comm
station. There were still a few patrols that hadn't reported in yet;
perhaps this was the lead they'd been looking for. Combing through
this galaxy was almost as bad as some areas of the Outer Rim; finding
the worlds of these Borg that had bloodied Thrawn's nose was proving
difficult.
The communications officer spoke up. "Sir, Scoutships are
reporting in from Sector 17. They've found a planet, technology seems
similar to the one our sensors detected."
"More than likely it's our Borg boogeymen," the captain said.
Piett nodded. "And if not, they could probably point us in
the right direction. Alert all commands, converge on those
coordinates." And with that order, the fleet of star destroyers
slipped into hyperspace.

Picard had been waiting in his ready room when she arrived.
He'd been looking over the mission details, and he had to admit that
he was practically as giddy as a fresh graduate taking his first
assignment. The idea of opening diplomatic relations with a
civilization as vast, ancient, and advanced as the Galactic Empire
went beyond even the pipedreams of young cadets. Sure, he wasn't
going to be actually engaged in negotiations -the delegates on board
would handle that- but he'd be the one to get the foot in the door.
When the door chimed he gave his standard "Come!" without even pausing
in thought. But the sight of her was like dropping several tons of
lumber on his mental railroad tracks.
She was dressed in a blue full body suit rather than a
uniform, along with a pair of high-heeled boots. The fact that it
emphasized her highly-attractive figure, however, didn't really
matter. For Picard, it was her face, her hand, the tell-tale signs of
the one and only civilization that used that particular type of
technology. She is, or was, Borg. "Annika Hansen?" he asked in a
voice that said he couldn't imagine the answer to that question being
"Yes."
The woman had been examining the room, more like analyzing
given the way her eyes seemed to dwell on things. "I suppose that was
the name you were provided," she said. "As you are the commanding
officer of this vessel, you may choose to address me by that
designation, though I should warn you that simply using it will not
make me become that person."
Picard was now kicking himself for spending too much time
looking over the mission details and not taking the time to check the
new crewman's file beyond her name... and it seemed that even that
data had been flawed. "What would you prefer?"
"I am Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.
But you may call me Seven of Nine."
Picard nodded to himself. The commander of this mission is
the only Starfleet officer to escape assimilation, and he's going to
meet with the Empire immediately after the Borg destroyed one of their
ships, so naturally Janeway would choose to send a Borg as his
advisor. No wonder they didn't want Voyager handling the diplomacy.
"You are a Borg, yes?" he asked, just to be certain.
"I am no longer a member of the collective, I am an
individual," Seven informed him.
"Yes, I can see that," Picard said in a neutral tone. "Then
you must know about me."
"Our thoughts were one for a time, Captain Picard," Seven
said. "But the irrelevant details of your life are not known to me.
Am I too assume that this won't be a hindrance to my assignment?"
"I would never allow my personal feelings to interfere in my
duty." Picard stopped. Why did he say that? That implied there were
some personal feelings involved! "You are familiar with the Empire?"
"Yes, captain," Seven said. "I was involved in most of our
direct meetings and have first-hand experience with their technology.
I have also been briefed on the experiences of others."
"Good, we'll need you to avoid any missteps. I don't think I
have to tell you how important this meeting will be for us. The
Empire could be a powerful friend, or a lethal enemy."
"Agreed," Seven said. "I will ensure that you are adequately
advised in all circumstances."
Picard nodded slowly. "Your quarters have already been
assigned. Do you have any special needs we should be aware of?"
"Yes," Seven said. "I assume I will be provided standard
quarters. The bed can be removed; I do not require sleep. I will,
however, require a power conduit be adapted to interface with my
systems."
"You need an alcove, is that what you're saying?"
"Yes, captain." She noticed the tone in his voice. "Is that
a problem captain?"
"So long as you don't go assimilating our ship, no," he said,
then mentally kicked himself for the remark. That's twice she's
gotten under your skin, Jean-luc, he thought. And it's not her doing
it, it's you! "Inform Commander Riker, he'll make the arrangements.
If there's nothing else..."
"No, sir."
"Dismissed." Seven nodded and left. Picard dropped the PADD
on the desk. How was he going to open diplomatic relations with
another galaxy if he couldn't get along with his own crewmen?

The Executor and the rest of its fleet exited hyperspace; five
Borg cubes waited for them. They weren't the first they'd
encountered, but it was the first time that the Borg would be on the
receiving end, and the first time Piett had a speech of his own.
"Transmission coming in, sir," the communication officer said. Piett
nodded and it came over the speaker, thousands speaking a single
chant.
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your
ships. We will add your..."
"That's enough," Piett said, and the transmission was cut off.
"Ready our reply." He waited until the officer nodded. "This is
Admiral Piett of the Galactic Empire. You have violated our space and
repeatedly attacked our ships without provocation. This will not be
tolerated." He turned to the captain. "Alert all commands, engage
and destroy."
As the fleet closed in on the Borg world, the cubes rushed to
engage them. As before, despite their adaptations, the turbolaser
blasts tore massive holes in their ships. Still, the Collective
seemed to press on despite the obvious damage, like an animal that had
become so rabid it wouldn't stop attacking even if it was being killed
by the defender. However, the Borg weren't animals, they were logical
and unemotional, so they ignored the damage and instead concentrated
their attacks on a single star destroyer. Despite the heavy damage
they managed to batter the ship's shields down. They bombarded the
ship with bluish-green bombs, which seemed to act as a kind of ion
blast. The star destroyer's weapons were becoming less and less
effective as the seconds passed.
But outnumbered and outgunned, the cubes couldn't stand up to
the rest of the fleet. The last of the cubes was reduced to
fragments. "Report," Piett ordered.
"All ships are reporting no damage, sir," the captain said.
"Except the Tyrant. Captain Lennox reports that the damage to many of
their systems is serious; they'll need to return to the station to
make repairs."
Piett nodded. "Send them to Base One. Once the ship's
functional, I want it back here with the fleet." The captain nodded
and passed the message along. As the Tyrant limped off, the rest of
the fleet closed in on the planet. "We'll show these Borg whose
resistance is futile." The Imperial fleet bombarded the planet; the
Borg offered no resistance. Within minutes every square meter of the
crust had been reduced to smoking craters.

Picard exited his ready room. "I assume we're ready, Number
One?" he asked.
"Ready as we'll ever be, sir," Riker said. "Mr. LaForge says
all systems are go."
"Helm, take us out of Spacedock; let's see what this engine
can do." He took his seat; Riker was on his right as usual, while
Seven had been provided the one normally allotted to Counselor Troi
for the purpose of the mission. He watched as the doorway opened to
allow the massive Sovereign-class ship to exit. "The anticipation is
unnerving," he confessed to Riker.
"I feel a bit like Zephram Cochrane," Riker admitted. "Brand
new propulsion system, first contact."
"Except we're not first, Will," Picard reminded him. "We're
just making this trip. Everyone knows Armstrong and Aldrin were
first, who remembers the second?"
"Peter Conrad and Alan Bean, sir," Data said.
Picard turned to him. "Thank you, Mr. Data," he said.
Data nodded. "In ten seconds we will be far enough outside
the Earth's gravity well to engage the hyperdrive, captain."
"And we'll see if it's everything we've been told it'd be."
"The technology is effective," Seven informed him.
"I'm sure it is," Picard replied. "On my mark, helm...
engage." And with that the stars began to lengthen and twist into
starlines, and suddenly, they were gone.



CHAPTER VI.

Even after six days, Picard still couldn't get over the eerie
feeling he had whenever he looked out the window of the Enterprise.
Instead of the familiar streak of stars, there was an unnatural flow
of...something. He didn't know how to describe it; hyperspace is what
Seven of Nine called it. Whatever it was, it felt wrong. Still, that
was the price that came from crossing the galaxy at such fantastic
speeds, and if a journey of decades can be reduced to days, Picard
conceded hyperspace could look as ugly as it liked.
Lt. Commander Data's voice brought him back to the present.
"We'll be approaching the wormhole in fifteen seconds, captain."
Picard acknowledged, and waited, then on Data's order helm shut down
the hyperdrive, and hyperspace turned to starlines, then collapsed
back into the familiar view of real space, fifty thousand light-years
now behind them.... and one very massive object in front of them.
"All stop." Picard ordered. "What is that?"
"It appears to be some kind of space station sir," Data
informed him. "Although I am not familiar with any of its design
patterns."
Seven of Nine turned to the captain. "It's similar in size and
appearance to the Imperial station where Voyager was repaired. It's
likely the Empire constructed it to guard the passage to the wormhole
from future Borg attacks."
"Captain," Data continued, "I'm also detecting a vessel, 1.6
kilometers in length."
Riker turned to Picard. "Big ship."
"It is an Imperator-class Star Destroyer," Seven of Nine
informed him. "We encountered three such ships when we first made
contact."
"Star...Destroyer?" Picard asked hoping that wasn't meant to
be taken literally.
"Merely its designation captain. Its weapons output is
insufficient to destroy a solar body."
Picard acknowledged and turned to Lt. Thomas McClure. "Use the
modifications to the deflector you were given. Open a channel."
McClure gave Picard a nod. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the
USS Enterprise. I'm here on behalf of the United Federation of
Planets. Is this the Galactic Empire?"
Finally, there was a response. "This is Commander Crovix.
State your business Enterprise."
"Not exactly friendly," Riker commented.
"But understandable under the circumstances, Number One,"
Picard replied. "Open the channel again." McClure did so. "We are
here to open negotiations with the Empire. We wish to use the
wormhole to travel to meet with your leaders."
"Stand by Enterprise," was their only response.
"Captain," Lt. Travis spoke, "a ship -possibly a shuttle- has
left the station and is heading for the wormhole."
"No doubt to check with their superiors on the other side,"
Picard noted.
Data turned to Picard. "Captain, sensors indicate familiar
energy signatures coming from the Star Destroyer. The energy
signatures are consistent with those left behind by Borg weaponry."
Picard turned to Seven of Nine. "Could this have been one of
the vessels that battled the Borg when Voyager was here?"
"Possibly," Seven admitted. With that, she got up and strode
towards the viewer. "Focus on the ship and magnify by a factor of 27,"
she ordered.
Data looked to Picard, who nodded. A close up view of the
plate revealed a very faint pattern on the ships hull.
"This is not the same ship," Seven stated. "The markings on
the hull are not the same."
"It seems that the Empire has had more run-ins with the Borg,"
Picard said. "Data, any similar signs of damage to the station?"
"No, sir. It would seem that this was not a defensive
battle."
"Which leads us to only one conclusion," Picard said. "This
station isn't the front line of defense, it's their fallback point.
They've come to fight the Borg."
"Who seeks out the Borg?" Riker asked. "It's bad enough when
they come to you, why go looking for them?"
"That certainly is a good question, Number One. One I hope to
find an answer to."
Before the discussion could continue a communication came in
from the station. "Permission has been granted to enter the wormhole.
Once you pass through, you are to rendezvous with the Star Destroyer
Incaciad."
"That is the command vessel of Admiral Thrawn," Seven informed
the captain, taking her seat.
"Janeway's savior," Picard said. "Acknowledge the
transmission. Set course for the wormhole half impulse. Engage."
And with that, the Enterprise proceeded to the wormhole, and
disappeared from the galaxy.

"Attention! Borg ships approaching. Prep all TIEs for
immeditate launch."
Delric Taar blocked out the redundant commands echoing
throughout the hangar and headed for his ship. The launch crews had
been on constant alert, and Taar knew his interceptor would already be
set for launch as soon as he reached it. He checked the rest of his
squadron before sealing the hatch, then fired the twin ion engines and
roared out into space, his squadron close behind. They slipped into
formation, Taar taking the point while his wingman slipped into his
eight. As they swept around, he counted no less than seven Borg
cubes. Numbers were still on the Empire's side, but the Borg had a
knack for bringing something new to the party; apparently Piett had
decided it was time to do the same.
"Grey leader this is Ebony leader," Taar said. It was time to
put theory into practice, and hope they didn't kill themselves during
the experiment. "We're going to cross the tee on cube three port."
"Acknowledged," was the response from Lt. Starrunner. As the
TIEs approached the cube, their ranks broke, shifting to a four-point
diamond pattern. Ebony 1 took the point of the lead formation,
leading the way towards the right-hand side of the Cube. At a
kilometer out the fomations broke away from one another, looking for
targets of opportunity. The ships began taking random dips and slides
as they approached, trying to reach that age-old balance of being
evasive while staying on target. "Prime target located," Grey 3 said
as the coordinates were sent to his targeting computer. The small
formation made a slight course change and continued - Ebony 1 still in
the lead with Grey 3 at the rear of the formation. It was a risky
situation; the Interceptors were only flying at a fraction of their
top speed at the moment to allow him to keep in formation. But it was
the best plan he had for the moment.
The cube loomed through the transparisteel window at the front
of his TIE. This is nuts, he thought to himself. You don't go after
blockade runners with Interceptors, nevermind something like this! "I
have a visual on the target," Taar said aloud. It seemed to be a
weapons array of some kind. They raced towards it, then on cue, the
two TIEs on his eight and four moved accelerated forward, guns
blazing. Their laser cannons splashed across the surface of the
array, but there was little to show for it. The Borg fired back,
narrowly missing Ebony 2. It had been random luck that he'd survived,
but turning back wasn't an option, so they continued to fire at the
array for all the good it seemed to do.
"Break formation!" Taar ordered, and the three ships split off
from one another. Grey 3, now with a clear shot at the weakened
structure, launched three concussion missiles before pulling away. The
missiles slammed into their target, vaporizing it.
"Ebony 2 and 3, form up," Taar ordered. "Grey 3 strafing run,
we'll cover." The others acknowledged as he swung away from the cube
for the moment. Beyond it he saw the Avenger and Devastator advancing
on the Borg's right flank. Turbolasers and Borg energy beams
crisscrossed space, putting their puny fighter attacks to shame. Did
I say this was nuts? he thought. I mean this is pointless! It's not
like the Empire isn't going to win this fight regardless of the
fighters, why did Piett tip their hand?! But it didn't fall to grunts
like him to make those calls, so instead he executed a tight spin to
join in on this suicide run.
The diamond formation quickly formed up and raced over the
surface of the cube at a mere fifteen meters. The three Interceptors
tried providing cover fire for the Grey 3, who was pelting the surface
with proton bombs. Half-way across the cube he pushed them to full
throttle, leaving the bomber behind but hopefully providing more of a
distraction by firing at targets of opportunity. But one problem with
the Borg was they just didn't take to distractions, and a green
torpedo rose up from the surface and hit the bomber, sending the two
pods spiral away and crashing into the surface of the cube. "Pull
up!" Taar ordered, but this time an energy beam came up and caught
Ebony 2, disintegrating it. Adrenal flooding his veins, Taar put the
ship into a Korvel Spiral as he raced away, torpedoes filling the air
around him. Finally he pulled clear and formed up with Ebony 3.
"Ebony Leader to Grey Leader, we've lost our bomber." The command was
acknowledged, but apparently things hadn't been going well for
Starrunner's boys. As Taar brought the ship around he saw that the
Borg were laying into the Avenger and Devastator, much like they had
against the Tyrant. Taar's stomach tightened at the sight. The Borg
didn't care how much damage they suffered so long as they continued to
wear the Empire down. They could lose ten ships for every one they
destroyed, and it wouldn't matter. How do you fight someone like
that?
"Grey Leader to Ebony Leader, head to point 03." Taar pulled
him and his wingmate around to return to their cube, joining up with
another set of TIEs to provide cover for the next bombing run. The
new formation -five Interceptors and two bombers- once again skimmed
the surface, weapons lashing out at the cube. Again, as if out of no
where, weapons fire struck at the tiny ships, vaporizing two TIEs
instantly. To avoid being struck by the weapons and debris, Taar
pulled a split-S, pulling away from the cube momentarily before his
spin brought him back thirty meters behind his bombers, who continued
their strafing of the cube despite the attack. Taar planned to
increase speed and overshoot the bombers to provide further cover when
he passed over one of the craters formed by a proton bomb. Taar
frowned at the information his targeting sensors were telling him.
"Ebony 3 do you see what I see?" he called over the comm.
"Yes sir," ES-13-3 replied. "What do you want to do?"
Ebony 1 pulled into a tight loop and began heading for the
crater. "Put some plasma up their collective port," he told him as he
opened fire on the crater. The weapons' fire managed to destroy the
unshielded bottom of the crater, opening up a passage into the heart
of the cube. Throttling back, the two TIEs dove into the entrance to
the Borg ship, firing at their unshielded surfaces. The cubes may
have had the power to adapt to their laser cannons, but the raw power
was too much for the helpless drones inside.
After about seven hundred meters the two TIEs blasted their
way into a large opening inside the cube. In the center of this space
was a large, hour-glass shaped structure with several openings along
its sides. Taar looked at his instruments. "What do you think Ebony
3?"
"Looks like a target to me, sir," ES-13-3 called back to him
over the comm.
Taar smiled inside his pressure suit. "Agreed. Fire at will."
The two Interceptors continued their approach, their weapons blowing
away huge chunks out of the shape. Manueverability was difficult, even
at low speeds in this confined area. Finally, their weapons sheared
through the construct and Taar watched the huge structure collapse in
on itself. Immediately, explosions began occurring throughout the
cube. The two TIEs turned to continue their volley, when a nearby
explosion knocked Ebony 3 off course and into the wall, exploding on
contact. Figuring he'd done enough damage in here, Taar headed for
the opening to go back to the surface. The series of explosions were
getting worse, and he started pushing the ship faster and faster. This
proved to be a near fatal mistake as the passage suddenly narrowed
ahead. Quickly he twisted his ship on its side and dove into the
opening, his lower port solar panel scraping the edge of the passage.
It seems that even during that short battle, the Borg had managed to
repair some of their ship. Alarms were sounding and in desperation he
pushed the ship to full throttle and hoped like hell he'd get out
before the TIE or the cube blew.
Finally he rocketed out of the cube and launched back out into
space. Looking back, he saw explosions consuming various parts of the
cubes, and TIEs pulling away from its surface. A stardestroyer, the
Stalker actually, was finishing it off with a full barrage of
turbolaser fire. Moments after he had escaped, the cube exploded. A
single piece of debris, just a meter or so long, struck his TIE,
completely searing the struts that held it to the starboard solar
panels. The ship had been on its last legs before, now it was
completely out of control. The Interceptor wouldn't respond to his
controls and an energy surge was arcing through some of the panels.
Systems were failing, and in an act of desperation he tried to shut
down the engines. As he touched the panel, a surge of energy passed
through his pressurized suit and into his arm, flooding his body with
pain as he seized up. His eyes glazed over, and the universe, dark as
it was, became black.

War has been described as long periods of boredom interrupted
by short periods of excitement. At the moment, Picard felt that peace
didn't seem that different. After all the time he'd spent waiting for
his ship, and then all the time prepping for this meeting, the
ambassadors had taken over, and he was left twiddling his thumbs at an
Imperial station. It was the dawn of a new age, perhaps the most
exciting time for humanity since the discovery that we weren't alone
in the universe. At the moment, Picard felt like he was stuck in a
hole with his sensors off-line.
Picard had been lamenting the situation with Riker when the
door chimed. It was Seven; it seemed to always be Seven. She wasn't
a Borg, not really, but nevertheless, he had trouble letting his guard
down around her, despite how much advice she'd provided throughout the
mission. Maybe I've become set in my ways, he wondered. I can't
stand hyperspace, I can't stand my advisor, maybe this new age isn't
for old men like me. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound neutral and
failing.
"Admiral Thrawn has asked me to deliver a proposition to you,"
Seven informed the captain in the matter-of-fact way she had. "He
suggests that, to help bridge the gap between our civilizations, we
have an exchange of cultural history."
"What exactly does he mean by that?" Riker asked. Riker had
been spending the time scanning comm channels, and the longer they
were delayed, the more he became suspicious of the Empire. Perhaps he
wasn't ready for this new age either, Picard thought.
Seven looked at the PADD. "'Poetry, art, important historical
events, literature' were the specific examples he gave."
Picard nodded; this was exactly what he needed. "Extend the
admiral our thanks, and begin assembling a historical/cultural
database to give to the Imperials."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Riker asked. "We really
shouldn't be exchanging any information with them while the
negotiations take place."
Picard smiled slightly. "I'm not giving them the access codes
for Starfleet Command, Will. An exchange of culture would be a healthy
way to start this meeting, not to mention give us a chance to get to
know the Empire a little better."
"Honestly, sir, I think I'm getting to know them quite well."
"Will, there's healthy skepticism, and there's paranoia. I'm
sure there's nothing to fear in letting Admiral Thrawn examine our
works of art."

On board the Redemption. Mon Mothma stepped up to the central
platform. The high-ranking members of the Alliance were present; they
knew only that something urgent had come in, and rumors were it wasn't
good. From her grave tone, it seemed that would prove to be true.
"We've all been wondering what is going on lately, why the Emperor has
diverted ships and changed his personal agenda so much over the past
two months. We now have an answer." A hologram of a section of the
galaxy appeared, focusing in on one particular area until the whole
sector was revealed. "Located near the Napuli System is a wormhole to
another galaxy. The wormhole was discovered when ships from the other
side invaded our galaxy."
A small murmur of discussion began. Mon Mothma had to speak
up in order to be heard. "One is an antagonistic race called the Borg,
who attacked and destroyed one of the Star Destroyers in that area."
"I take it that's not the good news we'd like to think it is,"
Lando said.
"No. The data our spies have gathered shows that they will
attack anyone without provocation. They're extremely dangerous to
everyone, regardless of what side they're on."
"Dangerous enough that we should be worried?" Leia asked. "Is
there a chance that they'd destroy the Empire and threaten all of us?"
"It's not likely," Mon Mothma said.
"Will we help the Empire, if the situation comes down to it?"
Leia asked.
Mon Mothma hesitated. "Let's hope we won't have to make that
choice."
"Well, regardless of whose side they're on, at least it's
something to keep the Empire busy," Han pointed out.
"Yes," Mon Mothma replied, "and it's doing just that. The
Empire has sent a fleet in to deal with the Borg threat, and greater
security has been set up in that area of the galaxy."
"You said 'one,'" Wedge said. "I take it the Borg weren't
alone.
"No," Mon Mothma said. "The Empire has had some dealings with
another group from the other side of the wormhole. They have already
given information and technology to the Empire, and our spies indicate
they are planning on opening diplomatic relations with the Empire."
Leia finally spoke up. "What exactly is the position of this
group?" she asked. "What do they want in return for their aide?"
"From what our sources have gathered, an alliance," Mon Mothma
answered. The members of the Alliance looked at one another. The
Empire alone was bad enough. If they had new allies, allies with new
technology, then it was grim news for the struggling rebellion. "It
seems that we have a new enemy," she said, "and it's called the
Federation."



CHAPTER VII.

Taar opened his eyes slowly. There was a white blur in front
of him, slowly solidifying as the seconds ticked by until shapes
emerged. Finally, his vision seemed to clear up and he checked at his
arm. Yes, it was still there. Good. As advanced as cybernetics was,
he'd heard about more than one pilot who just couldn't handle a craft
the same again. There's something about the feel of a ship that can't
be duplicated by a piece of technology.
Taar gave the room the once over. The medlab didn't look like
the one on the Stalker; was he on the Executor? Before he could think
more about it the door opened; it was an aide rather than a medical
droid. This likely meant things were about to get worse. "Good
morning," the aide said as amicably as possible. "Glad to see that
you've returned to consciousness; we've got some matters to clear up.
It won't take but a moment." He pulled out datapad. "First, your suit
was completely overloaded, so we don't even have a name for you."
Taar winced slightly as he started to sit up. "Lt. Delric
Taar, ES-13-1 stationed on board the star destroyer Stalker."
The aide nodded slightly, "A squadron commander... good for
you."
Whatever, Taar thought. Save your condescension for someone
else. "What's the status of Ebony Squadron? How many survivors?"
"I'm asking the questions," the aide said sharply. "You can
check their status later, lieutenant." He paused briefly and then
continued. "I assume you were forced to abandon your craft?"
"Yes, there was-" Taar paused. So much had happened so fast.
"The cube exploded, the debris hit my craft. I was lucky to get out
alive."
"Mm," the aid responded with the expected degree of sympathy.
"Yes, well, everything seems to be in order," the aide concluded. It
was, after all, just a TIE; the Empire lost a few every day. If Taar
had lost a shuttle it would have involved an accident investigation,
but this drew little more than a glance. "The med-droid says you'll
be fit for duty the day after tomorrow. You'll have your orders then."
Then he turned and strode out.
With effort, Taar pulled himself up, silently cursing all
bureaucrats everywhere. "I'm asking the questions," he thought, and
it comes down to name and why his ship went kabloowie. Tiny men in
the grand scheme who push around bits in a datapad; just let me fly my
ship and lead my men and I'll do whatever you want. He searched
around until he found his code cylinder and plugged into the network.
With a slight note of surprise, he saw that he was on Base One, not
the Executor. They must have evacuated some of the wounded to save
space. He went on to check what information there was about the latest
battle with the Borg. It didn't paint a pretty picture. It had been
a victory, of course, but they'd lost the Devastator. This was a big
setback, even though it wasn't readily apparent. Not only had that
left the Imperial forces weaker, it also meant the Borg could win
battles due to sheer attrition. The Emperor's plan wasn't working;
the Borg weren't backing off, they were testing the Empire's limits.
They were planning something... he just hoped the admiral was capable
enough to see that and call in some reinforcements.
Taar's stomach tightened into a knot as he looked at the
fighter results. Only three of the pilots from Ebony squadron
survived, himself included. Starrunner and his boys had been
completely wiped out as well. At least they hadn't died for nothing;
the stats showed that weapons fire from the cubes Ebony and Grey
squadrons had attacked dropped by 38%. It was good from a tactical
standpoint, but losing so many of his men made it a bitter pill to
swallow.
Taar disconnected from the network and tried to sleep. He was
exhausted, but sleep didn't come easy. His mind was filled with
images of Borg drones being cut down by his laser cannons and of that
cube exploding from the inside out. He wanted to do that again... he
wanted to fly in there and blow the living crap out of them, like
pouring gasoline down an anthill and lighting a match. He forced
himself to put his thoughts aside and rest. Only if he properly
recovered would he get the chance to relive that vision.

The Emperor opened his eyes and watched Mara Jade continuing
her exercises. At the moment she was trying to move multiple objects
with her mind. Her frustration with her failure was obvious. "Good,"
he said, causing her to jerk slightly at his sudden comment. "Anger
is a source of power. Reach in and harness it, feel the hate flowing
through you, empowering you!" Mara nodded and went at it again with
renewed vigor. Soon objects were swirling around the throne room like
a whirlwind. They dropped when the Emperor's haunting chuckle reached
her ears. "Good, very good. You're learning well, my young
apprentice." He paused as the door opened and Darth Vader appeared.
Vader's walk slowed as he approached the throne, noting Mara's
presence. There was an undercurrent of mutual hate. "Leave us," the
Emperor told the girl, and she nodded and walked out. Vader stepped
before the Emperor and kneeled, rising only when he was told to.
"I sense something is troubling you, my friend," the Emperor
said.
"Yes, master." Vader paused. "'And there shall forever be no
more than two, one the master, and one his student, lest the way of
the Sith be lost forever.'" Vader said, quoting the words of Darth
Bane that had ensured the survival of the Sith for millennia. "Have
we given up on old ways?"
"Yes, we have," the Emperor said matter-of-factly. "No longer
do we lurk in the shadows, fearing the Jedi. I felt the disturbance
when that little green imp died; and with him dies the ways of the
Jedi. We are the only ones now who have the power of the Force, and
it is time we used it to the fullest."
"And so you train this one?" Vader asked. "She is nothing
more than a convenient spy-"
"I will decide who I will train," the Emperor said sharply. "I
train her as I will the young Skywalker. That was, after all, your
suggestion, Lord Vader." The Emperor gave a moment to reflect on that
fact. "I have foreseen her, Vader, leading our forces against our
enemies, with your son at her side."
"So he will join us."
"Oh yes. The details are difficult to see, but he will
embrace the power of the dark side."
"Forgive my doubt, my master," Vader said with a nod of
respect.
The Emperor nodded in return. "What is the status of the
Death Star?"
"It will be finished within the next ninety days, my master."
"I see it's not on schedule."
"No, the men have been suitably disciplined."
The Emperor's throne rotated slightly. "It is of no
consequence. It will serve its purpose when needed. I have summoned
you for an entirely different reason." Vader waited patiently, his
mechanical breathing the only sound filling the chamber. "I have
nearly completed negotiations with diplomats from the Federation, a
puny civilization in the galaxy beyond the wormhole. You will travel
with the diplomatic corps that returns to their homeworld."
"Why should we be concerned with this insignificant group?"
Vader asked.
"Because, the Federation is our foothold, Lord Vader. Through
them, we will seize control of their entire galaxy."

The Lambda-class shuttle slipped into hyperspace as Lt. Taar
moved into the $#@!pit of the small craft. He was the only passenger
on board the tiny shuttle, just him and a hold full of technical
equipment sent out to rendezvous with the fleet on the front line.
Taar wondered what was happening out there. The last engagement had
been the one he'd been in, just under a week ago. The Borg had
actually bloodied the Empire's nose that time, it should have only
strengthened their resolve... if Borg could have resolve, that is.
Instead they'd pulled back, left their worlds undefended. No, they
were up to something, and he didn't think he was going to like it when
he found it.
"So, why are you being sent off to Borg central?" the pilot
asked in an off the cuff way.
Taar looked him over for a moment before replying. "I'm
rendezvousing with my star destroyer. I was sent back to Base One to
get stitched up after the last engagement."
"Ah, let me guess, TIE pilot, right?"
"That's right," Taar said with disinterest.
The man gave a low whistle. "You know, they got two
categories for TIE fighter pilots: rookies, and frozen meat."
"Right," was Taar's only reply as he tried to ignore the
pilot. He didn't seem to take the hint.
"Happiest day of my life was when I was assigned to
transports," the pilot said with a grin. "The Imperial meat grinder
is not the place for me, no thank you

CHAPTER VIII.

The door opened for Picard, revealing the darkness of Thrawn's
office. He wondered if there'd been a mistake, but then he saw a
single source of light within. Slowly he stepped through the door and
heard the hiss as it closed behind him. As he approached he noticed
the light was coming from a hologram, a rather familiar hologram.
"Pardon my rudeness, captain," Thrawn said eventually, his eyes still
on the hologram. "I was just pondering this strange painting."
Picard walked up to Thrawn's side and looked as well. The
grand admiral was seated only a few meters away from the hologram of-
"The Mona Lisa," Picard said, "perhaps the most famous work of art in
Earth's history."
"Yes," Thrawn said as he leaned forward in his chair, "a
painting so simple and yet so - indefinable in its beauty. I have
been studying this great mystery for the past hour."
Picard smiled. "Scholars have spent their entire careers
studying this painting, trying to glean some insight. What does it
represent? How does it move us? What..."
"Yes, fascinating," Thrawn interrupted, "I was wondering why
she has no eyebrows."
Picard looked at Thrawn quizzically, and then back at the
painting. "Er, eyebrows, admiral?"
"She has no eyebrows," Thrawn said with a gesture of slight
confusion. "Why would the painting of Earth's most famous woman have
no eyebrows?" Picard was stricken rather dumb by the question. Thrawn
swiveled in his chair to face him. "My apologies, I do sometimes get
engrossed in these things." He looked Picard over for a moment.
"Capt. Jean-luc Picard, of the USS Enterprise, representative of the
United Federation of Planets, good to finally meet you face-to-face."
Picard responded in kind. Thrawn paused for a moment. "What does it
mean to 'strike the colors'?"
Picard was starting to wonder if Thrawn was some kind of
eccentric. The Incaciad had contacted them, requesting Picard to come
over in person right away, and it seemed all he wanted to talk about
were colors and eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,
admiral."
Thrawn smiled slightly, a somewhat chilling effect. "I was
reading about the USS Enterprise actually. No, not your ship, but its
namesake. Apparently in one of the ancient wars on your homeworld, a
ship called the USS Enterprise battled an enemy vessel, the HMS Boxer
during what was called the War of 1812."
Picard nodded as realization set in; he was naturally familiar
with the many namesakes of his ship. "Yes, in 1813 the two ships
engaged in battle off the eastern coast of what was then called the
United States. Two wooden vessels, their weapons limited to primitive
projectile launchers and their power provided by the wind."
"Yes," Thrawn nodded. "And during that battle, the commander
of the vessel, what was his name, oh yes, William Burrows, was killed.
And his last instruction to the crew was 'The colors must never be
struck.'" He looked at Picard. "So, again I ask, what does it mean
to 'strike the colors'?"
"In those days," Picard said, "a ship would fly flags on its
mast to show its allegiance. These flags were called 'colors.' To
strike the colors meant to raise the flag. That, at the time, was the
international sign for surrender."
"I see," Thrawn said. "So his final order was to never
surrender?"
"Yes," Picard answered, "the battle was too important. Burrows
knew that a defeat there would be a stepping stone for a total
invasion of the United States, and his country would be no more. For
him, that would have been the end of the world."
Thrawn nodded. "Yes, or course, sometimes sacrifices must be
made, to keep our worlds from ending." He seemed to ponder this.
"I've just received word from Coruscant," he said, shifting the
topical winds in a way that would no doubt impress William Burrows.
"The negotiations are nearing completion. One of the conditions is an
exchange of technology schematics." He reached over and pulled a
datapad out of a small case by his chair. "These will provide you
with information about the basics of many of our technologies."
Picard reached out and took it, wondering just what was
waiting for them in the electronic archive of the device. The
hyperdrive alone ensured that the galaxy would never be the same
again, how else would it change once these secrets were revealed?
"I'll have a similar collection of information prepared immediately,"
Picard told Thrawn.
Thrawn leaned forward towards Picard. "I'd like something in
particular, if you would be willing," he remarked. He looked at
Picard's face and smiled slightly, "Nothing remarkable. It is my
understanding that you and those who live in your part of the galaxy
use a different communications technology from ours. I'd be very
interested in seeing how it works."
Picard considered. "Subspace communication technology; that
won't be a problem. I'll make sure it's included in the report."
Thrawn nodded his head slightly. "Thank you captain."
With that, Picard turned to leave, just as the door opened, he
heard Thrawn call to him, "Captain." Picard turned back to the
admiral. "I look forward to working with you and the Federation. I
predict great things will come from this."
"As do I, admiral," Picard replied, and turned and left.
Moments later he was transported back to the Enterprise, his
excitement almost palpable. "Commander," he called as he entered the
bridge, "prepare a report for Admiral Thrawn on general Federation
technology. Have Mr. LaForge assist you. Make sure to include
detailed information on subspace communication technology."
"Sir?" Riker asked with some concern.
"There's been a breakthrough in the negotiations. We're
sharing basic information with our new ally. They have already given
us their technological report as a show of good faith."
Riker seemed momentarily hesitant, but he'd made his concerns
known repeatedly; doing so now, on the bridge, wouldn't be
appropriate. He nodded and set to work. "Data, Seven," Picard said,
"I want you two to go over this information. Memorize it, try to
understand as much as you can. I want daily reports on what you've
learned. This is your top priority."
"Understood, captain," Data said taking the datapad. He
nodded to Seven and the two walked off the bridge. Picard turned and
looked at the star destroyer on the viewscreen. "What strange new
world that has such people in it," he quoted.

Taar slowly opened his eyes and saw hyperspace swirling in
front of him. Quickly he leaned forward and hit the controls to bring
him back into real space. He glanced at the display; five hundred
light-years, in the wrong direction no less. It'd take the better
part of a day to make it back to Base One. But he was alive, and for
the moment, safe from the Borg. That's what counted. He punched in
the coordinates and returned to hyperspace, this time going the right
way. He wished he could send out a warning to them, but it was too
dangerous to give away his position. Besides, Base One had to have
heard about what had happened, and even that idiot aide would be smart
enough to call in some reinforcements.
With the ship on autopilot, Taar got up and tried to assess
the damage. Anything that wasn't nailed down had been sucked out
during the decompression, including the pilot. Taar really didn't
feel sorry for him, and it was certainly no great loss to the Empire.
Thankfully the equipment lockers had remained sealed, and he managed
to find some emergency rations. The low quality of field rations is a
universal constant, but Taar gorged himself on them as if it were
roast nerf with drippings. Finally, his physical needs tended to, he
began looking at the condition of the ship itself. Some damage had
been done to the ramp obviously, but it was still holding itself
together. If worse came to worse, he could always use a plasma torch
to cut through the viewplate in order to get out. The engines,
however, had been put under an even heavier strain during his escape.
The stress had caused some damage to the hyperdrive motivator, a
pretty serious problem considering he was flying through Borg space.
If he should be forced back into real space and run into even a single
cube, he'd have no hope. The weapons of this shuttle just aren't
strong enough to do any real damage, he thought. If they show up....
If they showed up, he'd follow Admiral Piett's example. Hopefully it
wouldn't come to that. In the meantime, he had a pretty long journey
ahead, so he settled back for some rest. It would be nice to be
unconscious voluntarily for a change, he thought as he stretched out
on the bunk and closed his eyes. Again, visions of dying Borg filled
his mind, and the twinges of a smile could be seen on his face.

The planet of Cordis hung against the backdrop of space, its
green surface flecked with streaks of brown, tapering to a pale blue
at its poles. Its reflected brightness, in contrast to the dotted
blackness of space, revealed a beauty that was both subtle and simple.
An ancient Caamasi poet once said that worlds are the jewels of space,
that even the most foul planet gained an elegance and sense of peace
that, for better or worse, it was a sanctuary. Unfortunately, peace,
beauty and sanctuary have no meaning to those who now approached the
calm world of Cordis. "Approaching planet in Grid 1092 of Unimatrix
02 prime, settlement of species 11035. Estimated population:
approximately 97,000,000. Scanning..." The four cubes hung over the
world. "Current population: 218,641. Commencing assimilation."
Grand Admiral Thrawn, having observed the effectiveness of the
Borg first hand, had recommended the Cordisi evacuate the world before
Piett had even arrived. Of course, there were always the brave,
foolish, stubborn, or just unlucky. They were there to hear the
message that broadcast on every frequency across the planet. "We are
the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your culture will adapt to
service us. Resistance is futile."
The Cordisi were a short species with a hardened exoskeleton
covered with thick hairs, and a long history of combat. Many of those
that stayed behind were members of combat orders that had passed down
their knowledge for ten thousand generations, and considered it an
unacceptable sin not to fight to defend their world to the bitter end.
They prepared traps and set up choke points, made contingency plans
for breaches. It was unfortunate, then, that the Borg didn't fight
that way, because perhaps then they might have had even a small
chance.
A beam lanced out from the cube in orbit over the city of
Ch'suvic and began ripping it apart. The Cordisi weren't sure how to
react when the pieces were scooped up and pulled into space. Someone
had found the controls to an old planetary ion cannon and blasted at
the cube. After a few shots, a green torpedo descended and struck the
facility, wiping out the complex while causing minimal damage to the
surrounding area. That was the most efficient.
The Cordisi drawn into the cubes were quickly disoriented and
captured. Some still attempted to resist even on board the cube, but
the approaching Borg overwhelmed them by sheer force of numbers. Just
hours after their arrival, the planet of Cordis had been stripped of
all technology and its entire sentient population. They were now one
with the Borg. The cubes departed, moving on towards the next target
for assimilation.

"Captain, the Incaciad is hailing us," said Lt. Travis.
"Onscreen," Picard ordered. Immediately the image of Admiral
Thrawn appeared, a thin smile on his face.
"Captain Picard," Thrawn said in a formal tone, "it is my
great pleasure to inform you that the negotiations have been a
success. As of thirty minutes ago, the Galactic Empire and the
Federation officially became military allies."
"That's good news admiral," Picard replied, trying to contain
his own excitement. The moment was finally here, he thought. Military
alliance, sure, but that was just getting the foot in the door. A
grand future for the Federation was beginning at this very moment, and
he and his crew had been an instrumental part of it. "How will we be
proceeding?"
"Some of the diplomatic party you brought will remain behind
on Imperial Center as the Federation ambassadors," Thrawn explained.
"The rest will be rendezvousing with us in five days. Also, the
ambassadors to the Federation from the Empire will be arriving with
them. Once they've all arrived, my ships will escort you to the
wormhole, and from there you can take them back to Earth."
"Very good," Picard replied, "Then, if there's nothing else,
admiral?"
"We'll contact you, should it be necessary," was Thrawn's only
reply. The screen then went blank.
Riker turned to his captain, "Well, it seems our mission has
been a success." Riker's tone was completely devoid of any irony;
either he'd come around or decided to keep his opinions on the Empire
to himself from now on.
"Indeed, Number One," Picard responded in good humor.
"Commander, I think this particular mission I have in mind will
require your expert talents."
"What do you mean sir?"
"I think that this is a cause for a celebration, don't you?"
Riker grinned, "Of course, sir. I'll use all my Starfleet
training, sir."
"Oh I hope not," Picard replied, "I was hoping for something
interesting for a change."

A small alarm went off on the control panel for the shuttle,
signaling that Taar was finally almost there, and safe. As the
countdown completed the ship slipped from hyperspace into real space
just twenty thousand kilometers from the station...or rather, where
the station was.
Taar's mouth fell open in disbelief. It was the Borg; they
must have learned where Base One was from the assimilated soldiers,
and now the station was next. He pounded the console; I should have
warned them, he chided himself. One man wasn't worth the risk!
Finally, reason overcame guilt. Okay, he hadn't warned Base
One in time, but this was obviously just a Borg stepping stone. He
had to get through the wormhole and warn the Empire before the Borg
swarmed over their galaxy. He pushed the battered engines to the
limit; it didn't matter if his ship died on the other side of the
wormhole, so long as he could get a message through.
Taar's stomach sank as he saw three of the cubes alter course
to intercept him. They were too fast; he'd never make it to the
wormhole... at least, not using the sublight engines. A microjump for
a ship like this, especially after all they'd been put through, was
stupid, but the sight of those Borg cubes enter tractor range made up
his mind. His hands flew over the controls and he yanked back on the
lever; just as the Borg cube's beam reached for his ship it shot
forward and disappeared.
Unfortunately, the damaged motivator wasn't up to the task,
and the ship flew at lightspeed right into the wormhole. The swirling
tunnel of hyperspace turned from a milky white to a smear of purple,
and then a violent red. It was the most unpleasant sensation of
Taar's sad little life, his body feeling forces acting on it evolution
had never had in mind. The "sky" outside churned and heaved like a
living organ trying to expel the tiny shuttle back to where it
belongs. There was the squeal of machinery going beyond design
limits, and the hyperdrive collapsed in on itself, dropping ship and
pilot back into real space. The ordeal made him want to curl up into
a fetal position and throw up for a while, but regardless of how he
felt he still had to give that warning, so he looked at the read-outs.
The sublight engines weren't functioning, the stabilizers weren't
operational and, oh, the remnants of the hyperdrive were actually on
fire, Taar thought in a detached sort of way. As the sound of the
sprays coming on filled the ship, Taar tried to figure out where he
was. No sign of Borg, he thought with some relief, which probably
meant he'd made it through the wormhole. He added this maneuver to
the list of things to never, ever, do again, and started checking over
the rest of the ship.
Most of the panels were off-line, including, he noted with
frustration, the communications array. Fortunately, he still had the
shuttle's emergency homing beacon, assuming he was even in the right
galaxy for the Empire to pick him up. But, like so many other things
on this trip, it was his only option. He didn't have the kind of
training to fix this, and even if he did, he doubted he even had the
right tools, what with everything being sucked out of the shuttle. He
activated the homing beacon, sat back, and waited. Just to be safe,
he gripped the small holdout blaster he'd found in an equipment
locker. "Hopefully it wouldn't come to that," he thought again, but
then thought, "only if my luck changes."

Talon Karrde was shaken awake by Roolith. "What is it?" he
groaned. He'd been up the previous thirty-six hours and was really
hoping to grab some kind of sleep before they hit the main trade
route. You had to be careful even out here on the rim; the Empire was
a lot swifter with their "justice" then they tended to be in the core.
"I think you'll want to hear this, Karrde," Roolith said,
flipping the comm switch. The voice was deafening.
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ship.
You will be assimilated; resistance is futile."
"What the hell was that?" Karrde demanded. He activated the
panel nearby, and two cube-shaped ships appeared; the scale made his
jaw drop. "What do you say we get out of here," he said, hopping out
of his cabin.
"I think the crew will back you up on that, Talon," Roolith
said, following him. Karrde paused as he saw the ships through the
viewscreen, and he wondered if his luck had finally run out.



CHAPTER IX.

Two days after the alliance had become official, Picard and
Seven were escorted aboard the Incaciad to meet with Admiral Thrawn in
person. No one had said why, but there was a grim atmosphere that was
impossible to ignore. The armored personnel, whom Picard had learned
were called "stormtroopers" -bringing up some rather nasty images from
his studies of the twentieth century- led him to the conference room
where Thrawn and several other high-ranking officers were waiting.
Thrawn motioned Picard and Seven to take a seat.
"I'm afraid we have some rather unpleasant business to
discuss," Thrawn began. "As you may or may not have known, the Empire
has been at war with the Borg for over a month now."
"Yes," Picard said, his voice even, "we noticed Borg weapon
signatures on one of your ships when we first arrived. We'd been
waiting to hear what exactly was going on."
Thrawn sighed and continued. "We sent a fleet of ships in to
deal with the Borg, to cause them some damage and show them we weren't
to be trifled with. Unfortunately, according to Lt. Taar," he nodded
in the direction of the scruffy looking gentlemen across the table
from Picard, "it seems we underestimated them. The Borg have defeated
our forces and assimilated our people."
Picard leaned forward in his chair, his mouth open in shock.
The Borg with Imperial technology, he thought. That was the worst
possible scenario he could imagine. "How did this happen?" Lt. Taar
went over what he had seen of the climactic battle between the Borg
and the Imperial fleet, of its annihilation, his near capture, and his
witnessing the destruction of Base One.
"Admiral Piett made a fatal error," Thrawn said. "He moved
the entire fleet in to bombard the planet, when the task could have
been completed by a single star destroyer. That led to their being
trapped."
Picard looked to Seven, his confusion evident. "The
hyperdrive can't be activated near a large gravitational field," she
explained. "I would surmise that the fleet was unable to activate the
drive and escape, and was then assimilated."
"Correct," Thrawn said. "And immediately they knew all that
we do, that's why they took over Base One."
"Yes, it seems your little war has backfired," Picard
commented despite himself. However much he wanted this alliance,
mixing things up with the Borg was always the last thing he wanted to
do.
"Our little war," Thrawn replied, "remember, we're allies
now."
"Yes, we will assist in whatever way we can," Picard added
diplomatically.
"Good, that's why I asked you to come to this meeting. We
need to know some things about the Borg."
Picard nodded slowly. "You mean our first hand experience as
Borg."
"Yes," Thrawn said. "We have tactical data. What we need is
someone with your unique experience. You two were both assimilated by
the Collective. You should be able to give me some insight into their
ways of thinking."
Picard let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't really know..."
"What do you wish to know?" Seven asked.
"The Borg have had access to much of our military technology,"
Thrawn said. "I've no doubt they've learned to use our hyperdrive for
certain, which means that their speed and range will be greater than
what it has been in the past. What I want to know is, will they come
through the wormhole, or continue to conquer in their own galaxy?"
Seven considered for a moment. "Did the members of your
personnel who were assimilated know of our involvement with you?"
Thrawn looked over at the man identified as Lt. Taar. "I
didn't know," Taar said. "But I can't speak for the senior officers."
"In either event," Picard said, "the personnel on the space
station, Base One, knew of our arrival. If the Borg assimilated them,
they'd know of our involvement."
Seven considered it all for a short time. "There is a small
possibility the Borg may attempt to assimilate the Federation since
the Borg know they possess similar technology." Seven paused for a
few seconds. "However, the most likely course of action would be to
come through the wormhole. They would perceive the Empire as an
immediate threat and attempt assimilation and/or extermination."
Quite the diplomat, Picard thought. "We'll have to warn
Starfleet," he said.
Thrawn shook his head while he thought. "Unwise captain. If
the Borg were planning on invading our galaxy they'd mass a fleet of
cubes on the other side, you'd never get through to reach them, and
your communications would take years to get to Earth."
"I understand the risks," Picard said. "But it's my duty to
warn the Federation of any threat, especially one from the Borg."
"I can't risk losing your ship, captain," Thrawn said. "You
and your people have been at this longer than we have-"
"Yes, which is why I've no interest in seeing us lose now,"
Picard said sharply. "All thanks to a war you started."
Thrawn leaned forward towards Picard. "We have lost ten star
destroyers, a space station, hundreds of thousands of lives, and our
greatest ship against an enemy that you introduced us to. If not for
the Federation, there would have been no war."
Picard paused. "My apologies, admiral. You're right, of
course. What do you propose?"
Thrawn signaled several of his aides, who got up and began
walking out. "I've had thirty Imperial Dreadnaughts on standby in
case of such an event. They'll be arriving here in twelve hours. I've
already evacuated Napuli, Cordis, Trelam, and issued warnings to all
systems within five hundred light-years. We'll be expecting
reinforcements from throughout the galaxy should a total invasion
begin. I'm also planning on speaking with the Emperor directly on
this."
"Are you planning to blockade the wormhole?"
"No," Thrawn said. "That would be a waste of resources in a
fruitless effort. The Borg will overrun us, assimilate the system
anyway, and then proceed to attack the rest of the galaxy, and that's
assuming they haven't already passed through the wormhole. No
captain, our best course of action is to remain here and await
reinforcements to ensure our victory. Now, if you'll excuse me,
captain, I have to speak with the Emperor."
Picard and Seven were escorted back to the shuttle. The
Incaciad had their shields up all the time now; now it was obvious
that it was in case the Borg returned. Seven took the controls,
Picard lounged back in thought. "What chance does the Federation
have?" he asked quietly.
"None, captain," Seven said. "The Borg's first failure was in
failing to consider that you may infiltrate non-critical systems yet
cause a critical failure. The second was assuming that since that was
the sole cause of their initial failure, that simply sending a cube
and avoiding such infiltration was all that was required. If the Borg
come again, it will be in superior numbers, captain, and even if the
Federation does succeed, the hyperdrive will allow the next wave to
come before you can recover from the first. If the Borg choose to
assimilate the Federation, warning or no, they cannot be stopped."
Picard tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, but it
wasn't easy. "How could they have done this so quickly?" he mused.
"It took Starfleet weeks to determine how to set up the hyperdrive,
and that was with one already integrated into our ships."
"They are Borg," Seven said, as if it said all. Sadly, it
did.
"How would you feel if Earth was assimilated?" Picard asked.
Seven looked over at him with that penetrating gaze of hers.
"I assume that question is intended to determine where my loyalties
lie."
"It would make me feel better to know you have a personal
stake in it," Picard said. Seven opened her mouth to reply, then
turned away. "I assume you don't."
"I- I had spent over two years with Voyager," Seven said
finally, still not looking at him. "Were the Borg to invade, they
would no doubt be part of those forced to defend Earth. It would
be... unpleasant to learn that any of them had been assimilated."
"So you do care, at least about them."
"I would not wish to see harm come to them," Seven said. "If
I may, captain, I find this conversation uncomfortable, and wish to
terminate it."
"Very well," Picard said, putting the information aside for
later consideration. He was wondering if there was more to his
advisor than her appearance suggested.

A large gathering had formed in the recreation area on board
Home One. Occasionally, a whispered comment was made, followed by
several noises for quiet. The rebels looked carefully at both sides,
trying to guess who would make the wrong move, and who would take
advantage of the other's momentary weakness.
Han slowly looked back from his hand to the man across the
table. Lando's face betrayed nothing, and the smuggler slowly removed
a card from his hand and placed it beneath the deck, replacing it with
one from the top. Now it was Lando's turn to consider his options.
Finally, he reached forward and drew a card off the top of the deck.
Leia, slowly slid through the crowd to get a good look at the
two men; gamblers, scoundrels, heroes. She shifted over by Wedge, who
had been forced out of the match by a bomb out. Han looked over at
Lando and gave a slight nod, and they both took two card from their
hands and placed them face up on the table. Curious, Leia whispered
to Wedge "What are they doing?" Very quietly, he replied,
"Mandolarian variant. No shifting, and you have to slowly reveal and
commit your hand." Looking back, she saw things were getting even
more interesting. Lando had laid the mistress of coins and the one of
staves, a rather gutsy move, committing him to a rather low card later
on. Han, however, surprised all with a two of staves and the idiot.
All he needed was the three of any suit for the idiot's array, the
highest possible sabacc hand. Acknowledging each other's hands, they
dropped more credits into the pots.
You could actually hear the sound of the cards sliding off the
deck as the game continued. Han continued to replace cards in his
hand, waiting for that game clinching three, while Lando steadily
continued, soon dropping a four of coins. Both men drew one more
card, and Lando announced that he was finished. Triumphantly, he
placed his final card: the five of sabers. A few gasps of surprise
were heard as they counted them up: a perfect sabacc. Lando had this
hand clinched, unless Han held a three.
Slowly Han reached out and placed his card on the bottom of
the deck. His fingers stopped just as he reached for the top card.
"I'll give you one chance to back out right now," he said to Lando.
Lando remained stone-faced, and Han shrugged to the crowd and
confidently flipped the top card onto the table. The crowd stared in
utter surprise. Han smiled and looked down at the card and then at
Lando, and then quickly back at the cards again. The queen of air and
darkness, giving Han a score of zero, which not only cost him the
match, but meant he had to double the value of the pot. Leia tried
not to laugh as Han looked back between his cards and Lando and his
cards again. As the crowd dispersed Han picked up the deck. "Are
there any threes in here," he mumbled, shuffling through the pile
while Lando laughed.
"Nice try," Lando said, looking through the pot, "That's quite
a sum you owe. Maybe I should just take your ship."
"Sure, no problem," Han said as he continued his quest for a
three, "would you like me to throw in my Wookiee too?" A growl from
nearby answered him. "Take it easy, Chewie, I'm only kidding."
Disgusted, he tossed the deck back on the table. "This isn't over
yet."
"Of course not," Lando said, "I don't have my money."
"Not to interrupt this display of respectability and
selflessness," Leia said, "but you're both needed at an important
meeting." Leia hadn't oversold it; Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar,
General Madine, and General Riekken were all on hand, and no one else.
This must have been something pretty big.
"I'm afraid that things in the Napuli System have gotten out
of hand," Mon Mothma said in a rather worried tone. "It seems the
aliens called the Borg have invaded our galaxy."
"We're sure about this?" Han asked.
General Madine spoke up. "One of my agents spoke with a Talon
Karrde; he encountered the Borg on his way back from a smuggling run
to Trelam II. The sensor data he provided confirms that it is the
Borg."
"Oh... great," Han said darkly.
"I want you all to appreciate the significance of this," Mon
Mothma said. "Not only did they overwhelm Lord Vader's hand-picked
fleet of star destroyers and the Executor, they destroyed an Imperial
battlestation that guards the wormhole. They are a grave threat."
"According to our sources," General Madine said, "the Empire
is massing a fleet of starships to attempt to destroy the Borg in one
stroke. They won't be in place for at least a week."
"Have we made our decision?" Lando asked. "Are we joining
forces with the Empire to fight the Borg?"
"Not at this time," Mon Mothma answered. "Though if they seem
to be overwhelming the Imperial fleet we may be forced into that
position. We cannot allow our worlds to be overrun by these
invaders."
Admiral Ackbar spoke up at this point. "There is, however, an
opportunity here that we could take advantage of. With the
battlestation out of the way there are no Imperial forces to stop us
from using the wormhole to go to the other galaxy."
"Well, yeah," Han said, "and with good reason. These Borg are
probably all over the system."
"Yes, but they're not concerned with guarding the wormhole,"
Mon Mothma said. "They more than likely are expecting an attack by
the Imperial fleet, not an attempt to sneak past them and into the
other galaxy. With surprise on our side and a little planning, we
should be able to get through the wormhole safely."
"Why would we want to go there?" Han asked. "What's so
important on the other side?"
General Madine hesitated, but spoke up. "We don't know.
That's why we need people to go there, to find out what the Empire is
involved in. There's got to be more to this galaxy than the
Federation and the Borg. We could find new allies, or at least those
who can tell us more about our new enemies."
General Riekken finally began speaking. "I've been asked to
organize the effort to establish a small base in the other galaxy.
Work's already begun on that, but what we'll also need in large
amounts are courage and," he floundered slightly, "your unique
talents."
Lando and Han looked at one another and back at the general.
"Look," Han said, "I'm willing to put my neck on the line, but I want
to know it's for a good reason."
"You volunteered for the Endor shield mission," Mon Mothma
pointed out. "That was a far greater risk than this."
Leia looked with some surprise at Han, but he pretended not to
notice. "Yeah, a risk, but a risk that could've ended this war in one
fell swoop. I don't mind risking my life for that, but risking it by
running past cyborgs and heading for the unknown just for the sake of
reconnaissance, that seems a little unnecessary."
"General Solo, if you don't want to go..." Mon Mothma began.
"I'm not saying that," Han insisted, "I'm just saying if we're
going to do this, we better do it right and we better be doing it for
a good reason. We'll be splitting up our forces, we'll be risking our
people, our resources..."
"We've considered this, Solo," Ackbar said, "and we've decided
it's worth the effort."
"Fine," Lando said, "so who's all going?"
"You and General Solo will be responsible for information
gathering," Riekken said. "Her highness," he nodded, indicating Leia,
"will be responsible for diplomacy, should it be necessary. Commander
Antilles will be responsible for fighter co-ordination, and Colonel
Derlin will be responsible for base security. I'll be in command of
the overall mission."
"Fine, when do we leave?" Han asked.
"Five days. That should give us plenty of time to get
everything assembled, and still beat the Imperials to the wormhole."
"The Empire's a piece of cake," Lando said. "It's the Borg
we've got to worry about."

The Emperor looked with some distaste at Thrawn as he appeared
in the hologram. He would have been such a great leader if he weren't
so....alien. "What is it, admiral?"
"It seems Piett and his fleet have failed, my lord," Thrawn
said. "He failed to follow instructions, and now he and all our
Imperial forces in the Milky Way have been either destroyed or
assimilated."
The Emperor felt his anger swelling, both at the situation,
and Thrawn's indirect implication that the Emperor's decision was
responsible. "How could this have happened?" Thrawn began to
explain, but the Emperor stopped him. "Nevermind! What have you done
to resolve this?"
"For the moment, I've activated our reserve forces," Thrawn
said. "But I don't believe it will be enough. Without greater
support, we may not succed..." Thrawn looked away for a few seconds.
"Apologies, your highness, it seems the Borg have arrived. They're on
a direct course for-"
Suddenly Thrawn's image vanished, and in its place stood a
large cybernetic being. The Emperor looked at it with disgust at
first, then recognized the face beneath the implants. Captain
Lennox?! The Emperor knew he was part of Vader's fleet; rather
independent thinker but an effective leader. "I speak for the Borg,"
the hologram said. "We have come to bring you perfection. Your
biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.
Your culture will..."
The captain's neck began to twitch and convulse and he stopped
speaking. His neck began to visibly contract and finally, the man who
once was Captain Lennox fell out of range of the holotransmitter, the
sound of cracking trachea indicating death. The Emperor released his
grip as the image of Admiral Thrawn returned.
"What are your orders, my lord?"
Hatred burned through the Emperor at the gall of these aliens
to invade his domain. "Your orders, admiral," his voice just above a
whisper, "are to wipe the Borg from the face of the galaxy!"



CHAPTER X.

"We've got it sealed. You're clear to depart."
"Thank you," Han said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his
voice. They'd spent the better part of an hour waiting to depart
while a mechanic tried to disconnect the Falcon from the freighter,
some kind of ruptured sealant hose. Han resisted the urge to punch it
and eased easily out of the main fleet to rendezvous with the "orphan
fleet" as it had been nicknamed. Leia took a seat in one of the nav
computer chairs while they closed in. Han had to admit that he was
rather impressed. The Alliance had committed a full eight squadrons
of fighters, a dozen Corvettes, nineteen transports, eight freighters,
and even two Star Cruisers to this mission. He saw X-wings, A-wings,
B-wings, even a squadron of the older Y-wings, all prepared for the
journey where there be dragons, Borg-shaped dragons, anyway.
"Riekken's not using any half-measures, huh?" Han remarked to Leia.
A Trilon Aggressor slipped over to the Falcon's port. "Here I
thought you were having second thoughts," Lando chided him over the
comm.
Han scowled at the comm. "There was a little mechanical
trouble, not a big deal."
Lando's laugh could be heard over the comm. "Han, did you
crash into a mirror warehouse? Your luck is downright abysmal."
Han ignored him and made some course corrections. He turned
as he felt Leia tap his shoulder. She was holding up a small pair of
dice on a string. "I found these in a maintenance locker," she said
as she handed them to Han. "I guess one of the engineers took them
down when he was repairing something on Yavin and forgot to put them
back."
Han looked at them for a moment and then gave Leia a lopsided
grin. He turned and fastened them to their old place above the
$#@!pit viewport, then keyed the comm. "I have a feeling my luck is
about to get a whole lot better," he said looking towards Leia, who
smiled at him.
"I hope so," Lando replied, "cause you still owe me three
hundred credits." There was silence for a few moments. "Be careful,
these Borg sound pretty nasty."
"Hey," Han said, trying to raise the mood, "it's me." And on
General Riekken's signal, the fleet slipped off into hyperspace.

Picard finished looking over the communication from the
Imperials as the turbolift pulled to a halt. The words took his
breath away. He realized he was still standing there and stepped out.
"What's the status of our defenses, Number One?" he asked, trying to
keep his mind focused in a productive direction.
Riker broke off his conversation with Lt. Travis. "We've
programmed a random series of modulations into the shields which
should be somewhat resistant to the Borg. All torpedo bays have been
prepped for a full confrontation, we've run a level three diagnostic
on all weapons systems. Mr. LaForge has made some modifications which
will increase warp core output by eleven percent, but we'll have to
double our maintenance checks and need to power down in a few days to
do some stress repairs, but every watt will help." Picard nodded.
"Lt. Travis and I were also discussing the possibility of using the
shuttlecrafts to fly close to the cube and transport explosives onto
key parts of the Borg cube."
"There are no key parts," Picard said, "no weak spots to
exploit." He sighed slightly. "People call the Borg a hive, but they
are more like a hydra, cut off one head, and there's another waiting
for you." He stood in silence for a moment. "Perhaps resistance
really is futile," he said under his breath.
Riker stood quietly for some time. Finally he spoke.
"Captain, I'd like to discuss something in your ready room."
As the door closed Picard spoke to Riker. "So, tell me what
is so important?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"If this is about the Empire, Will, this is a bad ti-"
"It's not about the Empire, sir, it's about you." Riker
hesitated. "Captain, you've just so much admitted that we can't
defeat the Borg. Right now, on that bridge."
Picard slowly eased into his chair. "Your point?" he asked
coolly.
Riker stood in stunned silence. "All I know is that the
Captain Picard I trained under never shared his doubts with the crew,"
Riker said, leaning forward on the table. "The Captain Picard I know
would never consider that his crew would fail."
"I'm not saying this crew will fail," Picard said much louder
than necessary. He quickly shifted his view away from Riker. "But
what is the point, Will? Even if we do defeat them, what then? They
will come again, and again, and again, and eventually they will wear
us down and we will lose." He sighed. "I'm sorry. The report from
the Empire indicates the Borg have eighty-seven cubes here. I think
of that, and then I reflect on my conversation with Seven, about how
with hyperdrive the Borg are now living on our doorstep... it's opened
my eyes to just how dangerous the situation is. We've been living on
borrowed time, Will, and we went about our business as if we would
always outsmart the Borg, always know just what to do. We've been
lucky, twice, and yet we act as if our victory is assured."
"We have prepared ourselves, Jean-luc, as best as we possibly
can," Riker said.
"Did we?"
"And be true to what we are?" Will asked. "Absolutely, sir.
If we'd let panic influence our judgment, we'd have stopped being the
Federation and started being the Dominion."
Picard nodded. "That's why you have a problem with our
mission... with the Empire."
Riker paused. "It's not just that," he said. "These
transmissions we've received, word of the rebellion, I'm not sure
we're on the right side here, sir."
Picard folded his hands and leaned towards him. "I've heard
some of those transmissions. I'll admit that some are disturbing.
There's this one here," Picard pulled out a PADD, "yes, a report of
warships bombarding a defenseless settlement to try and placate the
entire region. The order came all the way from the top."
"As I said, sir, there's reason for concern."
"Oh, wait," Picard said, "I'm mistaken. This is a broadcast
made by the Maquis three years ago about the Federation." He flicked
his eyes up at Will. "Did we, in fact, bombard defenseless Maquis
settlements?"
"Sir, I just-"
"I understand, Will," Picard said, "and I do take this very
seriously. But I think we have to look at the situation objectively.
So far all our involvements with the Empire have shown that they are
reasonable beings. They've made no gestures of hostility towards us,
and we both know that with their speed and firepower they could
overwhelm the Federation almost as quickly as the Borg can."
"Why bother, when they can acquire the Federation without
firing a shot?" Riker held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I
know I wasn't the biggest fan of the Empire before, but these
transmissions concern me. First it was the Republic, now it's the
Empire. That doesn't strike me as being an improvement."
"Come on, Will," Picard said. "You know that between the
British Empire and the People's Republic of China, it was the empire
that was the more free and tolerant civilization. They're just words,
Will."
"And the rebellion?" Riker asked.
"The rebellion," Picard said sharply, "is by definition not
our problem. The prime directive is crystal clear on that. We cannot
involve ourselves in the internal affairs of the Empire, and that
includes their rebel forces. Now I promise you that when this is
settled we'll look hard at the situation, but right now we have the
deadliest Borg fleet ever assembled within spitting distance of us,
and I'd rather focus our energies on our enemy rather than our ally,
thank you. That will be all."
Riker's frustration was obvious, but he nodded and showed
himself out. Picard turned back to his report, then shook his head
again. Eighty-seven... if every power in the alpha quadrant united,
could they stop even a tenth of that number? Love them or hate them,
Will, he thought, we need the Empire in the frightening place the
galaxy had become.

Delric Taar had spent most of his time since his rescue being
debriefed, but thankfully he'd finally had a chance to clean up and
get some real sleep. It had done wonders for his constitution, and
he'd needed it. The grand admiral wanted Taar to fully update the
squadron commanders on the fighter tactics employed against the Borg,
and where they did and didn't work, and that had required a lot of
thought and energy, but his brush with death, and his thought of all
the dead or assimilated pilots, gave him more than adrenaline ever
could hope to accomplish.
Taar entered Thrawn's office; it was dark, and for a moment he
was worried he was disturbing something. Thrawn turned away from the
glow of a hologram and looked at him. "Yes, lieutenant?"
With proper military steps, Taar marched into the room and
held out the datapad. "The captain ordered me to present the fighter
reports to you personally, sir," he said. Thrawn reached out and took
the datapad; Taar stood at parade rest while he looked through it.
Thrawn's alien features looked even odder in the low light provided by
the hologram, but Taar had heard enough from the other officers to
know not to let that affect his thinking. Thrawn was top of the line,
or he wouldn't be here.
"Are we ready to launch an attack?" Thrawn asked, not looking
up from the datapad.
Taar hesitated. "The commanders have been briefed, but they
haven't had enough time to run battle simulations with their men, and
many of the tactics are still only theoretical."
Thrawn continued reading the datapad, apparently not
listening. "It's the area of space where we'll be launching our
attack in two days," he remarked. How had he known Taar was looking
it over out of the corner of his eye when he wasn't even looking?
"I've been positioning our fleet for an attack on the Borg there."
Thrawn smiled. "How does it look?"
Taar was silent for several moments. "Are you asking me my
opinion, sir?"
"Do you not understand what a question is, lieutenant?" Thrawn
replied.
Delric, you idiot! he thought. You say "it looks very good,
sir," and nod when told to. But he had the horrible habit of thinking
and not keeping his mouth shut when confronted with a bad idea. Well,
you're in this deep, stupid, might as well speak your mind. The worst
Thrawn could do was put you on the front line in the next battle.
"Well sir," he began, "it seems from this model that the attack is
rather two-dimensional in nature, when it would be more effective if
we made a sizeable attack along vectors here and here," he pointed at
various parts of the hologram. "Also, the Dreadnaughts are in a
position to take heavier damage than if they were intermixed with the
star destroyers here. Of course, that's just my opinion sir."
Thrawn chuckled quietly. "Yes, and your opinion is quite
correct, too... except for the part about the fleet coming from here,"
he paused, "clearly this would be the better approach vector
considering the motion of the fleet."
Taar hesitated; well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
"Actually, sir, wouldn't we run a greater risk of hitting our own
ships with friendly fire?"
Thrawn clapped his hands slightly. "Well done. You've
demonstrated a rather keen grasp of ...."
The comm buzzed and a voice sounded. "Admiral, Captain Picard
wishes to speak to you, he claims it's urgent."
Thrawn sighed. "Very well." The image of the space battle
flattened into a two dimensional image of the Enterprise bridge and
Captain Picard.
"Admiral Thrawn," Picard said, "our long range sensors have
detected a group of ships entering the Napuli System. We've
identified some Nebulon Frigates, but the rest are unfamiliar to us."
Taar looked at Thrawn with some surprise. "The rebels..." he
muttered.
Thrawn ignored him. "I'm aware of the ships, captain. You do
realize that we have sensors of our own."
"Of course," Picard replied, "but I was concerned that they
may need some assistance. That is the heart of Borg space in this
galaxy..."
Thrawn shook his head. "It's too soon. Everyone has been
warned to stay away; if the Borg catch them, then that's the price the
pay for underestimating them."
"I understand, admiral," Picard said, but he obviously wasn't
very happy about it. "Enterprise out."
Thrawn sighed again as the image disappeared. "One thing
you'll learn dealing with the Federation," he commented to Taar, "is
that they want to solve every problem in the universe, and they want
to do it right now. They're a society of idealistic children." Taar
said nothing; he'd had pretty much no experience with the Federation
and frankly could care less. The Borg were the only thing on his mind
lately. "I need someone with experience to have the pilots trained
and ready to fight the Borg in two days. Are you up to the task?"
Taar brought himself to full attention. "Absolutely. They'll
be ready, sir."
Thrawn replaced the hologram with an image of some type of
statue. "Very good, major. I suggest you get started immediately."
Taar saluted and walked out. A promotion and a chance for
vengeance on the Borg. This was his lucky day.

This is not my lucky day, thought Han.
The fleet had dropped out of hyperspace right on course, a
short distance from the wormhole. Unfortunately, so was a Borg cube.
"All fighters," came the orders from the Liberty, Riekken's flagship,
"provide cover for the transports." The rest was cut off by Leia and
Threepio as Han put the Falcon into a series of crazy maneuvers while
Borg weapons tried to catch them.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is
futile."
"Confident bunch, aren't they," Han grunted putting the ship
through several evasive maneuvers.
"We're doomed!" Threepio moaned from the other navigator
chair.
"Don't start!" Han warned. He yanked the Falcon into another
tight turn as a nearby X-Wing was caught in a tractor beam, slowly
pulled towards the cube.
"We've just got to keep them distracted for another minute,"
Leia said.
"Yeah, well, a lot can happen to us in a minute," Han said
with a nervous edge in his voice as he turned some knobs above him.
The Falcon's lasers fired, but they stopped short of the cube. "Or
very very little," he said, jerking away as a Borg weapon struck a
nearby B-Wing. The Liberty was also running cover now, firing its
heavy guns at the cube, but it couldn't stay for long. It could beat
one cube without breaking a sweat, but every minute wasted trying to
engage it was another that allowed some of his friends to get closer.
Chewie suddenly growled something at Han. "What? Where?" Han asked
frantically. Chewie pointed and the Falcon came around, and Leia saw
the Trillon Agressor caught in the Borg tractor beam.

Luke, Lando's in trouble. Luke didn't hear it, but he heard
her words in his mind.
I'm on my way. "Hang on, Artoo," he sound out loud as pushed
the X-Wing to full throttle. He closed in, but Han was already there,
and two quick concussion missiles vaporized the tractor emitter. Luke
adjusted his course slightly and fired a few shots on the surface for
all the good it did. But the closer he got, the nagging sensation he
had was growing worse and worse, and he realized that what he'd
thought was worry was actually the sensation of the Borg. They felt
completely wrong. Each was unique, and yet each thought and acted as
one. It was like the optical illusion that could be a young woman or
an old hag depending on how you looked at it, and it was making his
head hurt.
The cube shook under a particularly devastating attack from
the star cruiser, and for a moment the many thoughts pulled together.
With so many thinking the same thing, it would have been impossible
for Luke not to pick up on it. "This is Commander Skywalker," Luke
said. "All available fighters, form up on me, Attack Pattern Delta."
The ships pulled away and formed a line behind Luke like a string of
pearls. Luke led the way around in a wide arc. "Arm your proton
torpedoes," he ordered. Got that, Leia?

Yeah, I got it. "Han, there's a weak spot in their defenses,"
Leia said. "Follow Luke in and fire your missiles."
Han's hands were flying over the controls. "How can you
possibly know that?" he asked. He saw Leia shift uncomfortably in her
seat. "Forget I said anything," he said, altering course. "I hope
you've got a good feeling about this." Luke's X-wing swooped in
first, firing his torpedoes and pulling up so the one behind him could
do the same. One pair wasn't enough to penetrate, but the endless
barrage opened the path for the ones near the back -including the
Falcon's missiles- to get through. They slammed into the opening in
the cube, and instantly explosions ripped through various parts of the
ship. Han looked stunned for a second as pulled up, then grinned.
"See, I told you," he said to Chewie, "no problems." Chewie barked a
reply. "So, who's the lucky one now, hey Lando?"
"Me," Lando replied, "lucky that you showed up. Thanks."
Han brought the Falcon around and headed towards the wormhole
with the rest of the fleet. "Let's hope we don't have to try this
again real soon, okay?" And with that, the orphan fleet left the
galaxy behind.


[End Act 1]

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Edited by ConferenceRoom
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3 hours ago, Mittens said:

This isn't really specific to the most recent election, as this guy has been going through it for years.  It really breaks my heart, honestly.

Wrestled w/ him in high school.  Good dude, but dumb as a rock.  Never expected him to go to college and be a doctor or anything like that - figured he would end up working Parks and Rec somewhere within 50 miles of HS.  Went into the Navy for a couple of years, got out and went into the Army after a couple of years as a civilian.  Involved in a training accident that eventually cost him both his legs, above the knee.  He's been in VA hell for the last 15+ years w/ them giving him the runaround, and him not having the mental capacity to understand what's happening or the ability to navigate the system.  I know enough about his situation to follow from a distance, but not the details, so don't come at me w/ some gotcha shit about how he could have helped himself - I'm not him.

He has moved from NH to SC to GA trying to be near the right VA hospital.  He settled in Frisco and is now married to a full-on MAGAT w/ a disabled kid that needs 24/7 care.  I have suspicions that she is with him as a way to access his gov money, but it's not like dude is getting a mint, so maybe that's just my biases.  Shortly after their marriage, I unfollowed him on FB because of her posting and tagging him in all her propaganda BS.  This is from last week - N is her son, who is developmentally disabled and in a wheelchair.  Like, wtf?

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Last night, I got a DM from him letting me know he's coming to Austin next week and wants to meet up.  I want to see him just to be a human and a friend from HS and show him love, but there's no fucking way I could be in the same room w/ that woman.  Don't get me wrong, he's dead red himself, but he doesn't (or at least didn't) live in that MAGA blinded world.  But I have a ton of Trumpy friends and can work around their bullshit for a couple of hours socially, so long as we focus on sports or reliving the past or whatever.  I respond that it's going to be tough for me to meet up, but hopefully we can make it happen, and ask why he's coming to Austin.  His response:

So, the best states are True Blue?  No way!  Kinda feel like him and his wheelchair are being used for props.  Guy is going to leave thinking he's done his part to help, and he will have, but it will be for naught.  His efforts won't help, and the situation won't change. 

jfc that's as bad as my new maga friend, unemployed and just diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, being grateful for Trump bc RFK will open up' the alternative treatments the med world is hiding and also thank god for Medicaid paying for everything so far! 

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21 minutes ago, ConferenceRoom said:

 

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My Star Wars VS Star Trek Fan Fiction.

I have been working on this for quite awhile. hope you all enjoy.

WORLDS WITHOUT END REDUX
Act I

CHAPTER I.

In the endless void between the stars the mile-long form of a
starship moved silently, its chalk-white surface in perfect contrast
with the infinite night. The almost casual motion of this ship and
its two escorts was quietly observed. Star Destroyers, a powerful
front-line ship for the Galactic Empire, and a source of terror across
its territory. The recent arms race with the guerrilla movement to
overthrow their leadership had continued to push their weapons
technology further. It is this short time right now when that Empire
would be at its strongest, when they have their most advanced
technologies and an intact chain of command.
"Yes," said a voice with satisfaction, unconcerned with such
physical limitations on sound in a vacuum. "This will do nicely."
When those words were spoken, a change took place that was to
be felt across the universe. In some parts of the galaxy, some
special individuals noticed inexplicable feelings of uncertainty and
dread. For the two remaining masters of the Force, each the polar
opposite of his counterpart, it produced a disturbance unlike any they
had ever experienced in their long lives. And while these two were
wont to agree on anything, both could sense the potential doom that
had come into being.

On the other side of the universe a hopelessly mismatched
battle was about to come to its inevitable conclusion. One was the
Federation Starship Voyager, which has been cut off from its people
for over five years. Its opponent was a gigantic ship belonging to
the Federation's greatest enemy: the Borg. Unlike Voyager, it was
heavily-armed and effectively shielded, and there was no doubt who
would be the victor. But as it happened, this single battle between
two rather insignificant ships was in fact the most important one in
all of history, although neither side knew it.
"Any signs of other vessels in the vicinity," asked Captain
Kathryn Janeway, commander of Voyager.
"Negative, captain," Ens. Kim replied. "No other vessels in
range of our sensors."
The ship rocked under the impact of another Borg weapon.
"Direct hit, Deck 12," reported Lt. Tuvok at Tactical.
Janeway's first officer, Comm. Chakotay, stepped to her side.
In all crises he was her closest advisor. Unfortunately, there was
little to offer under the present circumstances. "Maybe there's
somewhere we can hide," he offered, "at least for a little while. Give
us a chance to patch the ship together."
The ship was struck again, and below in Astrometrics, Seven of
Nine was hastily examining their sensor readings. The fact that she
was a Borg herself was only relevant in that she knew what she was
fighting to escape. If there was any irony in her mind being pitted
against the hive collective that had trained her it was lost on her.
"Anything that can provide some cover?" Janeway asked over the comm.
"Nothing yet, captain," Seven replied, her voice even despite
the anxiousness of the moment. Seven was not one to panic, regardless
of the situation. She was adjusting the long-range sensors in the
vain hope of finding something when her console began to beep for her
attention. She tapped the panel and her brow furrowed in momentary
confusion. "Captain," she said, "Sensors have picked up what appears
to be a wormhole less than five hundred thousand kilometers from
here."
The ship shuddered again, and Seven could feel the explosive
decompression despite the room's seal. They wouldn't last much
longer. "How the hell did we miss that?" Janeway asked. "It's
practically on our doorstep."
"I'm not sure," Seven said, looking at the readings. "But it
is a wormhole." She continued tapping the panel as she analyzed the
readings. "Stable, but I have no idea where it leads." Seven's
stomach twisted as the inertial dampeners failed for a fraction of a
second. She passed the coordinates on to Navigation.
"Away from here, and that's good enough for me," Janeway said.
"Alter course, Mr. Paris."
Voyager turned tightly, and the cube altered direction to
pursue. Not long after, space opened up and swallowed both of them
without a trace.

Standing on the main deck of the Star Destroyer Incaciad,
Admiral Thrawn gazed at the space beyond. His crew was far too busy
ensuring the smooth running of the ship to pay much attention, and
even less time to wonder what he might be looking at, or thinking
about. It was a pointless exercise anyway; few could understand all
that went on behind those alien eyes, and yes he was alien. His
ascent to his current rank did nothing to change that fact in the
minds of the Imperial Navy, although it mattered little to those under
his command. Whatever feelings they might have for non-humans were
suspended for the grand admiral, and newcomers to the ship were
quickly educated in that fact by his crew. It takes extraordinary
effort to overcome a prejudice; but then, there was nothing ordinary
about Thrawn.
As it happened, he was thinking about the future, and how the
galaxy was going to change soon. The Empire was constructing a second
Death Star at Endor, supposedly more powerful than the first. Rather
redundant in Thrawn's estimation; a planet-destroying weapon's only
real benefit was in overwhelming planetary shields, which the first
Death Star was quite capable of doing. Even then, in practical
military terms it wasn't a terribly effective weapon. Perhaps to
eliminate the center of your enemies' leadership or to terrify a
populace into surrender, but what good, in the end, was blowing up a
planet you want to conquer? The Death Star was useful, but the extra
effort was a bit of a waste in Thrawn's estimation.
According to the secret communication, the Death Star's
construction was behind, and Darth Vader and the Emperor would oversee
the final stages of construction in person. Yes, the Emperor was
leaving the impenetrable security of Coruscant to personally observe
the construction of an inoperable and defenseless battlestation.
Seemed rather obvious a trap, but the Rebels had been suffering
several setbacks, and the Emperor's rather obvious trap did have a
particularly attractive piece of bait. He considered who might be
commanding the Imperial forces; probably Piett. Not a bad commander,
but not a very brilliant tactician either.
Thrawn was just considering some attack scenarios, were he in
charge, when he heard one of the crewmen speaking to Captain Jarrol.
"Sir, two ships have appeared on our scope."
Thrawn turned around and looked down towards the young man.
There was almost a sense of casualness about the way he acted. "Out of
hyperspace?"
"No sir," the crewman quickly responded to Thrawn, "they just
appeared out of nowhere."
"Indeed," replied Thrawn, still nonplused. "Let's have a
look," he said as he stepped towards the control station. He didn't
waste time telling the crew to raise the shields; they knew what he
expected of them. He examined the ships for several seconds. They
were clearly alien, and they didn't share any similar designs. The
smaller ship was visibly damaged, but if the larger cube-shaped vessel
was responsible, it showed no interest in making the kill just yet.
"Admiral," Jarrol said, returning from a quick discussion with
his deck officer, "we have an intruder on board. Engineering."
"I assume you're not referring to a rebel spy."
"No," Jarrol said. "According to witnesses it appeared out of
thin air."
"'It?'" Thrawn replied. Jarrol offered him the datapad and
Thrawn looked at the intruder. Mechanical components, but obviously a
living thing. "A cyborg," he said quietly.
"It made no threatening motions," Jarrol continued. "But when
it didn't heed instructions it was shot. They're taking it to the
infirmary to study it."
Thrawn looked up from the datapad to the two ships beyond the
windows. "So," he asked no one in particular, "which one did you come
from?"
"Sir, we're receiving a hail from the cubical vessel," an
officer reported. The sudden voice was chilling, as if a million
voices were speaking as one in some horrible chant. "We are the Borg.
We have analyzed your defensive capabilities and judged them to be
inadequate. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add
your distinctiveness to our own. You will adapt to service us.
Resistance is futile."

On board the battered remains of Voyager, Captain Janeway rose
from her chair. "Hail them again."
Lt. Tuvok sent the message, but... "No response."
"Captain," Harry Kim said anxiously, "the Borg have beamed
over to the alien ship, the center one."
"How many drones?"
"One." Ens. Kim checks his instruments. "They must have beamed
over while their shields were still down."
Janeway turned to her first officer, unable to hide her
confusion. "Why would they not answer our hails? If they were
hostile, why haven't they fired? If they're peaceful, why ignore us?"
"Perhaps their communication technology is incompatible with ours," he
offered.
"We did receive energy readings earlier which may have been a
communication device," Tuvok informed them.
Janeway turned, her hand stroking her chin. Finally she
walked towards the turbolift with a quick gait. "Analyze those
signals, see if you can communicate with them. I'll be in engineering
- we still have a ship to put back together."

Thrawn watched the Cube advance. It was certainly big, but
there was no visible sign of any armored defenses, a rather odd
construction given the appearance of the cyborg below. "Flank them,"
Thrawn ordered, and the Kartinian and Lucinda advanced on the Cube
while the Incaciad moved into position. "Have the fighter crews
standing by," he ordered, "but don't launch until my order."

"Commander," Tuvok said, "the energy signal the Borg sent
earlier was similar in nature to the one we received from the alien
vessels. It might be their method of communication."
"Look at modifying our communications equipment to broadcast
using those signals," Chakotay said. "Whatever their intentions,
we've got to warn them before the Borg try something."
"Looks like we're too late for that," Tom Paris, Voyager's
pilot, said as Chakotay's attention returned to the screen. "It's
heading right for them."
Chakotay took a deep breath. "Let's hope they learn quickly,"
he said quietly.

"Use the Ion Cannons," Thrawn said, his voice with a steel
edge to it. "Perhaps we can take it intact."
Silvery-blue beams launched from the three star destroyers,
washing over the Cube's surface. It was clear that they were striking
the ship itself, but there was no noticeable effect, not even on the
sensors.
"Cease fire," Thrawn said. There was an unusual tone to his
voice, as if he were about to make a chess move right into a trap that
he could feel was there but couldn't quite see. "Turbolasers," he
ordered.
While the message was relayed to the stations Jarrol stepped
over to Thrawn's side. "Shall we launch our missiles as well?" he
asked.
Thrawn didn't answer at first, he just stared at the image of
the cyborg on his datapad. "No," he said finally. "And no fighters.
Just fire our lasers and let's see what happens."

Due to the sheer size of the Borg Cube the star destroyers
turned their ships so the heavy turbolaser batteries on their dorsal
side could all be brought to bear, much like it did during a Base
Delta Zero. That much firepower could normal eradicate all life on a
world in little time, and with the rate the plasma bolts tore through
the tritanium hull of the Cube it seemed that would be the case here
as well.
But for the Borg the purpose of the attack wasn't to fight, it
was to learn about this new species. Their scans had revealed new
types of technology, and what little information their lost drone had
gathered indicated that there was some that could be of use to the
Collective. Because even though they had been cut off from the hive
mind, the Borg never for a moment deviated from their purpose: to
consume technology and cultures that would increase their own
perfection. That it would involve their own destruction wasn't even a
factor.
The Voyager bridge crew watched in amazement as the cube was
slowly torn to pieces by the aliens with few retaliatory shots of
their own. The last time they'd seen anything like this--the only
time actually--was Species 8472. It was clear that Chakotay wasn't
the only one thinking that. "It doesn't look like the Borg have
adapted yet," Harry Kim observed.
"I don't think they'll get the chance," Chakotay said as a
corner ten times Voyager's size broke off from the main mass of the
Cube.
Paris swiveled nervously in his pilot's chair. "I hate to be
the pessimist here," he remarked, his eyes glued to the screen. "But,
I have a feeling they're not going to just ignore us after they're
through with the Borg."
Chakotay had been thinking the same thing. "Any progress,
Tuvok?"
"I believe I have the answer," Tuvok said, "but I am unable to
send the response."
"Was the comm system damaged?" Chakotay asked as he came
around to the tactical panel.
"Negative. But there is a powerful distortion field that's
blocking our ability to communicate."
"Some kind of energy noise," Harry Kim said. "It's playing
havoc with our sensors as well. I think it's coming from those alien
ships."
Any further discussion was halted when the Cube ruptured in a
series of smaller explosions as individual power distribution nodes
failed. Random debris scattered across space, buffeting Voyager with
shrapnel. Mercifully the shields held, but as they watched the three
ships responsible close on their location it was clear that was where
there good fortune ended.

It was fifty thousand lightyears from where the battle just
ended to the Imperial capital of Coruscant, but for a master of the
Force distance was something that happened to other people. The
Emperor hadn't moved since he had summoned Mara Jade hours before. His
meditation was so deep she wondered if he would ever return. It was
clear why she had been called here; with Vader overseeing construction
on the Death Star she was the only one left who could feel that he was
still alive. Even this deep there was no mistaking the powerful
impression he left on the fabric of life, a neutron star on the rubber
sheet that was the Force. Despite herself Mara jumped when he spoke.
"There is a great disturbance in the force."
"Yes master, you have told me." She tried to disguise her
fear. There was something different about him, but she was afraid to
probe it for fear of rebuke or, even worse, actually discovering what
it was.
"No, not that. No mere Jedi can do this. This is
something... alien."
Mara Jade had received little training in the Force, so she
could only wait while her master pondered what he'd felt. He seemed
to reach a decision. "You will remain here with me on Coruscant."
That hadn't been what she'd expected. "But, I was to kill
Skywalker."
"He is no longer a cause for concern," the Emperor said
flatly. "We must prepare for an even greater challenge." He stood up
and reached out for Mara. "Come." Mara climbed the steps and then
knelt before him. "Are you prepared to give up the life you have led
until now? Will you leave that person behind, if it meant limitless
power at my side?"
"Yes, my master," she said. Immediately she felt her mind
stabbed. It was hate, a cold hate, a hate that was born from
isolation in the frozen stars, a hate weaned on pain and nurtured by
abandonment and isolation. It was a hatred so black it consumed the
light, boundless and barren, it allowed no room for pity or mercy or
compassion, but it offered a strength that Mara could never have
imagined.
It had been an instant, and it had been forever, but the
sensation ended and Mara found herself panting on the stairs to the
Emperor's throne. "Rise," he ordered, but with a touch of friendship
to his voice. "It is time to begin your training, my young
apprentice."




CHAPTER II.

On a small, isolated world in a back corner of the galaxy that
the universe seemed to have forgotten, there was a single settlement.
On this world sat a tiny mud hut which happened to be the home of one
of the two most powerful masters of the Force that lived. If any had
somehow found themselves in this particular area of the swampy planet
they would have heard the sound of a heated argument between that
master and a particularly unruly student.
"Unfortunate that I know the truth?!" Luke Skywalker
exclaimed, unable to restrain his frustration. To have spent years
believing that his father had been a champion of good only to learn
that he was the very symbol of darkness wasn't easy, and the fact that
his teachers had deliberately perpetuated that illusion made it all
the more painful. Darth Vader, greatest enemy of all Luke held dear,
was his own father. Considering the weight of that statement, he was
taking it pretty well.
"Not ready for the burden were you," Yoda said wearily,
although Luke wasn't really listening. The master coughed, but
whether it was to get his attention or just succumbing to his age was
unclear. "There is a great evil coming. Stopped it must be. Time
you will have, but squander it you must not. Mind what you have
learned, save you it can." He was interrupted by another coughing
fit. "Hear, and remember: Once you start down the dark path," he
warned with a choke in his voice, "forever will it dominate your
destiny."
Luke could sense his master's lifeforce starting to fade, and
his own concerns were pushed aside. "Master Yoda..." he said
impotently, knowing that very soon he'd be gone, just like Ben... just
like so many people he'd cared about. It was so hard to keep burying
the people he loved, and now, when this horrible truth was placed
before him, the one he most needed to guide him was going to die too.
Master Yoda, sensing his fear, spoke to him, his voice broken
as he struggled for every breath. "There... is... another...
Skywalker." And with that, he vanished.
After taking a few moments to come to terms with his grief,
Luke exited the small hut and walked towards his ship. Artoo, the
most loyal droid ever built, warbled at him with concern. Even he
could tell something was wrong, and there definitely was. This was
his burden now; Ben, Biggs, Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru, and now even Master
Yoda, they were all gone, leaving him to face this impossible task. "I
can't do it, Artoo," he said quietly, more to himself than to his
droid. The emptiness weighed on his soul. "I can't go on alone."
"Yoda will always be with you," a distant voice told him, and
it took Luke a moment to realize he'd actually heard it out loud.
"Obi-Wan," Luke said, feeling a mix of emotions. He was glad
for the company of his long lost friend, but the lie was so fresh in
his mind he couldn't hide his sense of betrayal. "Why didn't you tell
me?"
The shade sat on a log and Luke joined him, listening as the
old man explained what had happened. His father had been the champion
that he had remembered, but the promises of the dark side in the end
had been too much for him. He had fallen... become so afraid of
losing the woman he cared about that he'd become the agent of the evil
the two of them had always fought so hard to stop. That was why Luke
had been hidden away, to save him from the same fate as his mother;
and so had she. "Leia," Luke said, the answer suddenly so clear.
"Leia is my sister."
"Your insight serves you well," Obi-Wan said with approval.
Luke knew what he meant, that this wasn't his burden alone. If
he could train his sister in the ways of the Force, if she too became
a Jedi, there might be a way to accomplish the impossible. "There is
still good in him," Luke told the elder. "Perhaps together-"
"You have time," Obi-Wan said, "but not as much as you might
think. You must prepare yourself for the destiny that awaits you. You
face not only Darth Vader, but the Emperor and the forces of evil. Do
not take Yoda's warning lightly." Luke could sense his teacher's
anxiety. "I'm afraid that in the trials to come you will face enemies
more powerful than you can possibly imagine."
Luke was resolute. "I can save him." There was no doubt in
his mind.
"You must do what you must," Obi-Wan said. "But never forget
what he is. Whatever has happened, destiny is clear. You will face
Darth Vader again."

Traveling across the universe, a single message defied physics
by exceeding the speed of light due to a few scientific
technicalities. Even then, it took centuries to cross the great
emptiness between galaxies. It was a perfect metaphor for the
eventual recipients: unfeeling, ever patient, inevitable. The Borg
are not so much a force of arms as they are a force of nature. And
when they received the message and learned about the existence of a
race with new technology to acquire, their reaction was predictable.
Unfeeling, and ever patient. It would be theirs; it was inevitable.

Captain Janeway and her senior officers stood at attention in
the main shuttlebay as they watched the Imperial ship dock. There was
a palatable excitement in the room as the door opened and the first
member of the Galactic Empire set foot on a Federation starship. Hours
before, they had feared it would be as a conqueror.
"They defeated the Borg," Janeway had said with dismay as
Chakotay filled her in from the bridge.
Her first officer nodded. "They made it look easy. We were
nervous for a little while, but once Tuvok contacted them we were able
to explain the situation. They're called the Galactic Empire."
"I guess that means we're a little farther from home than we
thought," Janeway said.
Chakotay nodded. "Harry estimates we're on the other side of
the known universe. Fortunately the wormhole is still stable, but I'm
not sure heading back yet is such a good idea."
"Agreed," Janeway said. "The last thing we need are more Borg
looking for their missing cube."
"Admiral Thrawn has offered to tow us to an Imperial station
where we can repair the ship."
And that was the man: Admiral Thrawn. The man who had
destroyed a Borg Cube in minutes, and who had brought their ship to
the station for repairs. What they hadn't realized was that the
station was one hundred eighty light-years away, a journey of several
weeks for Voyager. The Incaciad had done it in eleven minutes. As
the captain of a ship trapped thirty-five thousand light-years from
home, that wasn't the kind of thing you failed to notice. With that
ability, Voyager could be home in days, and Janeway was ready to do
anything to get her hands on it, even if she had to resort to stealing
it.
Janeway stepped forward and greeted Admiral Thrawn. His skin
was blue, and his red eyes were rather intimidating, but he wore a
friendly enough expression as she approached. He was polite as she
made introductions and then began a tour of their ship. Eventually,
he seemed to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"I'm rather interested in that ship you were fighting," Thrawn
said as they left astrometrics. "The Borg?"
"The Borg," Janeway said, briefly reflected on her own
experience with them. "Not exactly the friendliest of races from our
side of the wormhole."
"Certainly not very personable," Thrawn agreed. "Are they
your enemies?"
"Only in the sense that we exist," Janeway said as they
entered the turbolift for the lower decks. "The Borg don't see anyone
besides themselves as anything except raw materials."
"Charming," Thrawn said as they exited the lift. A short way
up the corridor Janeway directed him to a door on the right.
"This is our transporter room," Janeway said.
Thrawn looked about it, his brow furrowed. "I'm not quite
sure I understand."
Janeway gestured towards the transporter pad. "This device
allows us to break down matter in one location and reconstitute it in
another." She was starting to feel hopeful; if this was technology
alien to the Empire she could possibly trade it for their own
technology: the hyperdrive.
"You do this with people?" he said, attempting to hide his
distaste.
"It's perfectly safe," Janeway said a bit too quickly.
Thrawn tapped his lips as he looked at the pad and the
controls thoughtfully. "I could see how it could be useful in moving
large amounts of cargo," he said finally.
"I'm so glad to hear you say that," Janeway said with a smile
that would put a Ferengi to shame.

In a different part of the galaxy, near Sullust, Luke wasted
little time in shedding his flight suit and heading down to the
meeting room in Home One. He wasn't certain what was being discussed,
but he knew it would revolve around the Emperor's new Death Star.
Having already gone against one, he was leery about a repeat
performance.
In a group like the Rebel Alliance there's always an attempt
to maintain military command and discipline, but in the end you are
dealing with just bush pilots, pirates, and militia. The noise of the
many arguments was a bit surprising, so Luke quickly slid over to
where Leia Organa and Han Solo, his closest friends, were sitting.
"What's going on?" he asked, noting the scowl on Han's face.
"Just five hundred people with five hundred different ideas
about how we should end the war," Han said cynically.
"The Emperor has changed his plans," Leia said. Her face was
a mask, but he could sense the conflict in her. She seemed uncertain
about what they should do herself. "Originally he was going to
inspect the Death Star, but now he seems content to wait for them to
get on schedule themselves."
Luke understood. "We were hoping to take advantage of it."
"Exactly," Lando Calrissian said, taking a seat next to Luke.
"The old man never leaves Coruscant, it would've been the perfect
opportunity to take him out of the picture for good."
"The Emperor is incidental," General Blissex said emphatically
as the argument toned down slightly. "The Death Star is a weapon of
unimaginable destruction and it must be destroyed."
"Agreed," General Madine said, "But at what cost? We prepared
for this assault knowing we had an opportunity to behead the Empire.
Without the Emperor the Death Star is a less important target."
"We need to do this now," Admiral Ackbar said. "With the
weapons systems non-operational we stand our best chance against it."
"It's too great a risk for too small a prize," Madine replied.
"The plan commits all of our resources. If we attempt and fail the
Alliance is finished, and with it any hope of restoring freedom to the
galaxy."
"If we wait, we only postpone the inevitable," General Blissex
said. "The Empire has already proven this weapon is not for show.
They used it against Alderaan because they sympathized with us. If
that weapon is complete, no one is going to be willing to risk helping
us. We'll lose our support and eventually be wiped out."
"Princess Organa," Mon Mothma said over the din. "You are the
senator from Alderaan. You've seen this weapon used first hand. What
is your opinion of all this?"
"She's not a military officer-" Blissex began, but wilted
under Mon Mothma's stare.
Leia took a deep breath, and Luke could feel that she was even
more conflicted. "The Emperor does nothing on a whim," she said
finally. "He has shown throughout his reign that he carefully plots
out his every choice. His tight rein on the military high command is
proof enough of that." Luke could sense the pain as she thought about
her homeworld. "No one is more aware than I of the threat that weapon
poses, but we can't let fear blind us to reality. The Emperor's
sudden behavior is indicative of something important, more important
than his pet project. Or, even worse, I fear he may have learned our
intentions, and altered his plans accordingly."
"How could he know?" General Reikken asked. "Are you
suggesting a spy amongst us?"
"I'm suggesting that the Emperor might have laid a trap for us
at Endor," Leia said. "And if so we'd be fools to step into it. If
not, if he changed his plans for some other reason, we may have our
priorities out of order."
"What could be more important than a Death Star?" Ackbar
demanded.
"That, admiral," Leia said, "is exactly what I'm afraid of
finding out."
After some time the group finally agreed to hold off on the
attack until the rebel spy network was able to learn more about the
Emperor's plans. There was still an almost funeral-like tension in
the air, regardless of everyone's view of the decision. They had had
their first real glimpse of the end, and it had been just as suddenly
lost. But as Ben had told him, Luke had time ahead of him, and he
planned to put it to good use. After the meeting he took Leia aside.
He didn't want to have to do it now, given her own burden at the
moment, but she had to know. "Leia," he said, finally finding the
courage to say the words, "I need to tell you something... something
rather incredible."

Admiral Thrawn's smile vanished after Janeway was transported
off the bridge of the Incaciad. It seemed like the woman would never
shut up, but after three days of conversations -enough time for the
engineering crews to install the new hyperdrive on Voyager- she had
filled him in on much of what lay on the other side of that wormhole.
Tens of thousands of splintered powers vying for their own little
share of their galaxy. Thrawn had little doubt what the Emperor and
his advisors would have in mind, and given his own proximity to the
anomaly... he suspected he'd have a very interesting opportunity in
that little ship. "Captain," he said, not even turning his head.
"Yes, admiral," Captain Jarrol replied.
"Have our fleet escort Voyager to the wormhole," Thrawn said,
his eyes never leaving the vessel. "Let's make sure she doesn't lose
her way."

"Engineering to the bridge," B'ellana Torres, Voyager's Chief
Engineer, said over the comm. "We're ready down here."
Janeway was literally on the edge of her seat in anticipation.
"Seven?"
"I've established a link between our astronavigational
database and long-range sensors," Seven said as she entered some
commands in astrometrics. "I've fed the data through to the helm."
She finished tapping the panel. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Paris."
"You heard her, Tom," Janeway said, fidgeting with excitement.
"Set course for the wormhole, maximum..." she stopped short.
"Velocity," she shrugged at Chakotay, who smirked at her.
"I'm sure they'll come up with a name for it soon enough," he
replied.
"Course laid in," Tom Paris said at the helm. "Engaging the
hyperdrive." With a single push of a button, the stars began to
stretch and turn, and the Voyager crew found space suddenly replaced
with a kind of milky-white pattern around them.
Janeway stood up and approached the screen. She had been in
Engineering when the Incaciad had brought them to the Imperial
station, and hadn't witnessed hyperspace before. "It's beautiful,"
she said quietly, the tiniest hint of emotion in her voice.
"Yes it is," Harry said. "It's the way home."
Almost as suddenly the starlines returned, and the normal
ebony of space spread out before them. "Are we there?" Janeway said,
her voice still barely audible.
"Yes, captain," Paris said. "And for the record we made it in
12 minutes, 41 seconds. Just might be a new Starfleet record."
"Let's hope we have an opportunity to challenge that record,"
Janeway said. "Give our thanks to-"
Captain Janeway never finished. Instead space twisted in on
itself before her, and the ominous sight of three Borg Cubes filled
the screen in front of her. "Oh my God," she whispered. "They found
the wormhole." She watched the Cubes pass Voyager and fly towards
their star destroyer escort. "What have we done?"


CHAPTER III.

The Napuli System was, for the most part, a strategically
useless area of space. Little mineral wealth, no known colonies or
life, and a hundred light-years from a settled system, it was as
important in the grand scheme as a blade of grass is to a wheat field.
However, the fact that the first fleet engagement of the Borg War was
taking place here showed that things can change in an instant.
"All TIEs stand by," Thrawn ordered. "But do not launch
unless I give the word." Despite the seriousness of the situation his
voice was calm, but firm. He had learned a great deal about these
Borg, but most of it was second-hand. Still, Thrawn had experience
using little bits of information for his advantage.
"Admiral," Captain Jarrol said anxiously, "We're receiving a
communication. They-"
"I know what they want," Thrawn interrupted, his eyes never
leaving the three vessels. He was very quiet. "All turbolasers on
the center cube," he finally said. "From all vessels."
Jarrol hesitated for a moment, but only a moment. To him, it
was insane to ignore two-thirds of the opposing forces when they could
try to incapacitate all three, but he'd learned more than once to
follow his commander's orders regardless. Immediately their weapons
began tearing into the central cube. He kept his eyes on the sensors,
watching the devastation. The first cube they had encountered had
taken little time to destroy, and this one didn't look different,
until. "Lieutenant," he said with obvious confusion, "is there a
problem with the sensors?"
"Negative, sir," the lieutenant reported from the crewpit.
Jarrol turned away and stepped over. "Then why do the
instruments insist our weapons are doing less damage?" he said with
obvious irritation.
"It's not the instruments," Thrawn said quietly, his eyes
never leaving the tactical display. "It's them."
"What do you mean?" Jarrol asked. "Sir," he quickly added.
Thrawn looked back at the ship and then the display, and when
he spoke, it was as if he were discussion the duty roster. "The Borg,
captain, have adapted."

"Re-route power to the shields," Janeway ordered. "Evasive
maneuvers. Load all torpedo bays."
"Captain," Tuvok said, a calm center on the storm of the
bridge as always, "the Borg appear to be focusing solely on the
Imperials."
"Then give them something else to think about," she replied.
"Torpedoes, full spread."
One after the other the torpedoes exploded from the tubes and
impacted on the Borg ship. When the series completed itself, the
space glowed from the discharged plasma. But..."no effect," Tuvok
said.
"Bring us around," Janeway said, taking her seat. "Attack
along the same vector as the Imperials; we might be able to punch
through."
"Captain," Chakotay said quickly, "Maybe we should leave this
to the Imperials. They were more than a match last time."
"The Borg hadn't adapted yet," Janeway countered. "This time
they will, and the admiral will need every ship he can get." Chakotay
opened his mouth, but Janeway cut him off before he could even start.
"We brought them here. We are obligated to stop them. Tom, bring us
around."
The Intrepid-class starship weaved into the conflagration
between the titans, phasers and torpedoes trying to breach Borg
defenses. After a few minutes the combined efforts blew the cube to
pieces. A few words of encouragement were said, then the group moved
on to the next cube. "Torpedoes, full spread," Janeway ordered as the
tiny Federation ship dodged the Borg's energy weapon and closed in.
"There are only two torpedoes left," Tuvok informed her. "Do
you wish me to fire them?"
"Not yet," Janeway said. In the heat of the moment she'd
forgotten how the previous battle had seriously reduced their limited
supply. "Try to find an opening, then launch it down their throats."

"Sir," Captain Jarrol said as Thrawn continued looking between
the battle and the tactical display, "the Lucinda's shields are
failing. The Borg have been-"
"They're using a shield draining weapon," Thrawn finished.
"Set the jammers to a randomized pattern."
"Yes," Jarrol said as he passed on the order, but his
confusion was obvious.
"If the jamming is regular," Thrawn said, even though his
attention was focused on the battle, "they might find a way to
minimize it and use their transporters. We mustn't let that happen.
Launch all TIEs." He tapped the console as he watched the reports
coming in from the Lucinda. The Borg had ganged up on it in precisely
the same manner as the star destroyers. Shields were failing. "I
want TIEs to target all tractor beam emitters. The Borg can't be
allowed to assimilate any part of the Lucinda; not one member of the
crew, not so much as a wrench. Are my orders clear?" They were;
Thrawn was not one to resort to hyperbole.

"Captain!" Ens. Kim shouted with concern. "I'm reading
hundreds of ships, too many to get a precise count."
"More Borg?" Janeway asked, her heart in her throat.
"No," Kim replied, more restrained, "they're from the Imperial
ships. They appear to be large shuttles."
"They're not evacuating, are they?" Janeway asked Chakotay in
confusion.
"I don't think so, Captain," Tom Paris said as he pointed to
the display. They watched as the ships swarmed around Voyager and
swooped in at the cubes, their weapons tiny pinpoints as they fired at
the massive ships.
"It looks like Thrawn had a little surprise planned," Chakotay
remarked.
"Hopefully this will turn the tide," Janeway remarked as they
joined in the attack with the fighters.
"I don't think so, Captain," Kim said, his disappointment
transparent. "They've begun assimilating one of the star destroyers."

The bridge was a buzz of controlled activity as the task of
running a warship and coordinating a battle continued with the fine
precision Thrawn demanded of his officers. The admiral himself was
silently weighing the factors in his cold mind. The difference
between Thrawn's thinking and a military computer's was that the
computer was not aware of the moral consequences of its decisions. The
difference between Thrawn and most officers was that he didn't allow
that to influence his thinking.
"Give me Captain Tamez," Thrawn said. Activity in the room
quieted slightly; the admiral rarely spoke with the other vessels
directly during combat. "Captain," Thrawn said as the hologram
appeared on the bridge, "can you raise your shields?"
"No sir," Tamez replied, doing his best not to display any
emotion as the Borg tried to carve his ship apart around him.
"Captain, I want you to ram the port cube." He spoke as if it
were a minor course correction.
"Say again?" Tamez replied.
"The Borg are assimilating you," Thrawn said. "They want to
take you and your crew and turn you into brainless slaves. If you
don't destroy them, this will happen."
"We have them outnumbered-"
"You won't last that long," Thrawn said, "and we are short on
time. You can die a slave or die fighting to save the Empire. I
suggest you choose the latter."
Tamez obviously didn't like either choice. "Admiral-"
"Ramming speed," Thrawn said. "Those are your orders."
Tamez took a deep breath through his nose. "Yes, admiral." He
tried to put as much pride into the words as he could, and the
hologram faded. The bridge remained quiet as Thrawn's order seemed to
hang in the air.
Thrawn stepped back to his position in front of the tactical
display. He could explain to them that anything the Borg assimilated
could be used to learn about the Empire and how to destroy it, and
that even obliterating the vessels wouldn't keep that knowledge from
being passed on to the collective. Of course, he was also the
admiral, and he explained to no one but the Emperor. "Unless we wish
to share their fate," he said evenly, "we must focus on the task at
hand."

The bridgecrew of Voyager watched in shock as the star
destroyer and the cube collided in an explosion so energetic they were
flashblinded. An energy wave struck and knocked them off balance.
When Janeway managed to right herself she was able to make out the
shattered remains of the cube; the star destroyer was vaporized.
"Death before assimilation," Chakotay said grimly. "I'm sure
a few Federation captains had similar thoughts."
"Earth," Janeway said quietly. She looked at Chakotay, and
noticed the odd way he looked at her. "Captain Riker was prepared to
do the same thing to save Earth when the Borg first came." She shook
her head. "We have more in common with these Imperials than physical
appearance." She called out orders for battle to finish off the
remains of the final cube, but part of her couldn't stop thinking
about what had happened.

Luke looked on with some concern as Leia held the lightsaber
tightly in her hands. He could sense her fear, which was an important
concern. His family didn't have a good history with the dark side.
"Relax," he told her, "Don't try to force it. Just let it happen." He
activated the remote, which began to move with a series of small,
deliberate motions. Every few seconds a beam would lash out--not
strong, just enough to sting. Leia swung the blade, but missed. This
repeated until Luke could sense her frustration. "I know it seems
hard, but that's just it. It only seems hard because you think it is.
Stretch out with your feelings, and don't worry about whether you
block or not. Just let your instincts guide you."
"Easy to say," Leia said through gritted teeth, "hard to do."
The blade was brought up, almost blocking the latest bolt.
"Like all things, it takes practice and patience." Which was
true, but there was no sense in going too hard on her on her first
day. Luke stretched out with the Force and turned the remote to a
lower setting. He felt a flash of anger.
"I don't need you to go soft on me," Leia told him. "I just
need to get the hang of things."
Luke nodded with a small smile. "How did you know?" he asked.
Leia opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. "I don't
know. I just... just knew."
"Now you're starting to understand," he said with approval.
"Trust your feelings, don't second guess them."
Leia took a deep breath then held the lightsaber out in front
of her, eyes fixed on the remote. It fired, slow at first, then
faster. The green blade slipped through the air with a quiet hum as
it snatched at each sliver of energy, bouncing it away harmlessly.
Luke switched it off and clapped his hands a few times. "You've taken
the first step," he said with approval. "But there's something you
must always remember. Take these steps only along the proper path."
He paused, realizing that it was only a week ago that he was the
pupil. He wished Master Yoda was there to train her, to give the
guidance that Leia needed to avoid the trap their father had stepped
into and that he nearly succumbed to as well. That was Yoda's last
warning to him, something that, even as he died, he wanted Luke to
remember. He would face his father again; would he face the dark side
again as well? And more importantly, could he find the strength to
refuse it, or would he give in to temptation?
"Are you all right?" Leia asked.
Luke tried to put on a cheerful face. She was definitely
growing in her powers. "I'll be fine," he assured her. "Let's
continue with your exercises."

"Are they gone?" the Emperor asked.
"Yes, your highness," the hologram replied. Mara stopped her
exercise, her instincts telling her that something important was going
on. After a few seconds she recognized the hologram as Thrawn, one of
the more gifted military commanders, but nevertheless an alien.
However good they might be, never trust an alien, or so the Emperor
had taught her; and he was right. Thrawn may command in his navy, but
the Emperor did not for an instant allow that to cloud his judgment of
the creature.
"What do you know about this Federation?" the Emperor asked.
"They are but one of thousands of minor powers located in
their galaxy," Thrawn replied. "Many have little knowledge of the
existence of most of the others. Communication on the galactic scale
is virtually non-existent."
"That can be used to our advantage," the Emperor replied.
"What of the leader you spoke with?"
Thrawn chuckled. "Janeway is extremely naïve. She seems to
take everything at face value. After the Lucinda was destroyed she
gave us all tactical information they had on the Borg, no matter how
obscure. There is a multitude of details we can use to deduce
information about tactical and strategic possibilities against a great
deal of powers in their galaxy. And of course, the information on the
Borg itself will be extremely useful."
"Indeed," the Emperor said. "What is your assessment of these
Borg?"
"They are obviously a threat, you highness," Thrawn replied
simply. "They no doubt want to assimilate us as well, and since it's
impossible to negotiate with them, armed conflict is unavoidable."
"Then you are recommending that we prepare for war," the
Emperor replied.
"Your Excellency, I suggest that we deter them from that
course. A retaliatory strike into their territory as a direct
response to their invasion would demonstrate that further conflicts
with the Empire would not be in their best interests."
Mara could sense the Emperor's mood sour. Was Thrawn
attempting some duplicity? "I thought you said these Borg are
unreasonable."
"Your highness, the Borg cannot be reasoned with, but they
are, in the end, beings of logic."
The Emperor was silent for several minutes, but Thrawn said
nothing, a wise choice as far as Mara was concerned. Her master was
right, this alien couldn't be trusted. However, the Borg were
definitely a threat if they could cause the destruction of a star
destroyer. "I want you to take command of a task force of vessels
from the nearest space station, and cross into this Milky Way galaxy."
"Yes, your excellency," Thrawn replied.
Mara could sense the Emperor's irritation. He had no doubt
been expecting Thrawn to presume he would command the war effort, and
thus humiliate him by denying it. "I want a station built on the
other side of the wormhole to serve as a launch platform for our
efforts and to maintain communication throughout the conflict. See
that it is built quickly and protected from the Borg."
Thrawn nodded and the hologram faded. The Emperor turned
towards Mara, his gaze causing her to wither slightly. The more she
grew in her power, the more she could sense how great the gap was
between them. He noticed her reaction, as he noticed everything, and
a smile drew to his lips at her fear. "Good," he said slowly. "Fear
is the path to strength. Terror, hatred, passion, these are the
things of power. Embrace them, my young apprentice."
"Yes, my master," she replied with a slight bow. She
hesitated, unsure if it was her place to speak with him of such
things. "Master, do you really trust such an important matter in the
hands of the Chiss?"
The Emperor waved the remark away as he returned to his
throne. "He is an able planner and a skilled tactician, but I would
not be so foolish as to trust him with this campaign. Darth Vader's
fleet has the most capable officers in the navy; they will deal with
the Borg."
"But what of the rebels," Mara replied. "If they attack while
the fleet is gone-"
"The rebels will not attack," the Emperor replied. "And if
they were so foolish, the battlestation is shielded, and no army in
existence can equal the one I have placed to guard the generator. No,
my young pupil, the rebels are no threat."
Mara nodded her agreement, but the Emperor could sense her
thoughts. He chuckled. "Yes, you are correct child. One must never
underestimate one's enemy, no matter how nearly vanquished they might
be." It was a lesson her master had impressed on her from day one; a
lesson one of her predecessors had learned from a lightsaber point.
"The rebel support will wither once my battlestation is operational,
lest they suffer the same fate as Alderaan. You need not always
battle to win, young Mara, you can succeed merely by using your
enemy's fears against them."
"I still don't understand."
The Emperor smiled, and Mara could sense he was thinking about
the Federation and its neighbors. "You will child. You will."

CHAPTER IV.

Captain Janeway tried not to fidget in front of the admirals,
but it wasn't easy. With the celebrations of Voyager's return ending,
the reality of all that had happened had sunk in. For five years she
had no superior officers to deal with, no one to report to but her own
conscience. Now that she was home, those five years were about to be
placed under a microscope.
"Captain, before we begin," said Admiral Parks, the senior
officer present, "I want you to understand that this is not an
official inquiry or a disciplinary investigation. We just want to
clear up some of the events that took place during your absence."
Janeway nodded. "I understand, admiral." She was glad none of
them were telepaths and could tell what a lie that was.
"Good," Parks turned to a white-haired man at the end of the
row. "Adm. Jellico, I believe you had a topic of particular concern."
Admiral Jellico nodded. "Captain Janeway. You ascribed your
speedy return to a group called the," he turned to his notes, "the
Galactic Empire?"
"Yes," Janeway answered, "we worked out an exchange with a
representative of the Empire wherein they were given transporter
technology and we were given their propulsion device."
Jellico consulted his notes again. "A device called a
'hyperdrive'."
"Yes. They showed interest in our transporters, and we
obviously needed their device a great deal."
"Enough to violate the Prime Directive?" Jellico replied.
The suddenness of the remark caught her off guard. "What do
you mean, sir?" Janeway replied.
"According to your report," Jellico said, "the Empire is not
only on the other side of the universe, but is existing at a time far
earlier than our own."
"Yes," Janeway replied. "We discovered that the wormhole
displaces in space as well as time, at the speed of subspace in fact."
"Very convenient," Jellico said with disinterest, "but it
doesn't explain why you deliberately gave technology to a society that
existed, by your own admission, before our own."
Janeway's voice dropped in pitch. "We didn't know about this
at the time. It wasn't until the Borg showed up that we realized it.
In either case, I stand by my actions."
"Even though they violate Starfleet regulations?" Jellico
asked pointedly.
"Yes," Janeway remained stoic, "I do."
Janeway expected the barrage to continue, but Jellico suddenly
reversed thrusters, catching her off guard. "Would you not in fact
say that your actions were necessary to ensure the safety of your
crew?"
"Yes," she replied, wondering if she'd just stepped into
Jellico's trap.
"Would you describe the Galactic Empire as being hostile?"
Janeway was growing more suspicious, but she firmly believed
that the truth justified her. "In every encounter I had with them,
the Empire showed they were civilized and cooperative."
Admiral Parks spoke up. "Would you be willing to testify to
that before the Federation Council?"
"Yes," she replied, but didn't understand. She said as much.
"It's really quite simple, captain," Jellico said. "We want
you to tell all of this to the Federation Council tomorrow."
"To accomplish what?"
"A lot has happened while you were gone, captain." Parks
hesitated. "The Federation is in trouble. We've been having diplomatic
negotiations with practically every two-bit planet in our part of
space. We need support if we are to survive."
She'd been gone too long, Janeway realized. She'd forgotten
about how much of a hotbed the alpha quadrant can be. It fell into
place in an instant. "Then what you want..."
Jellico finished, "We think the Federation should form an
alliance with the Empire."

Seven of Nine waited outside the briefing room, hands clasped
behind her back in what passed for a relaxed pose, moving only as much
as was required to remain alert. It was for this reason she was aware
of the small group of Starfleet personnel - cadets, she noted from
their insignia - that had gathered to stare at her since she and
Captain Janeway had arrived. Scoptophobia was an irrational fear, as
was paranoia; human foibles that she as a Borg had grown far beyond.
Their whisphered discussions about her were of no concern, no concern
at all.
"Do you require something?" she asked, causing the small crowd
to jump at the suddenness of her remark. Despite herself she hadn't
been able to keep the belligerence out of her voice.
"Um," one of the female cadets said as her classmates
distanced themselves from her slightly, "we were wondering if it was
true... what they said, I mean. That you're a Borg."
"I am an individual now," Seven replied.
"But, you were a Borg," the cadet replied. "You used to be."
Seven resisted the pointless desire to rub her hands together
at the uncomfortable situation. "Yes," she finally replied.
"Does it hurt when you're assimilated?" someone else asked.
"I don't remember," Seven replied.
"I thought Borg never forget anything," the first cadet
replied.
"We do not waste valuable resources on the pointless
recollection of pain."
"Did you ever help assimilate anyone?"
Seven wrung her hands instinctively. "Yes," she replied
quietly.
"Did they show they were in pain? Did they want you to stop?"
"I don't remember," she said sharply.
"Mr. Hicks," a voice came from behind Seven, "are you in
charge of this gathering?" All the cadets drew to attention. Seven
glanced between them and a white-haired man that had just exited the
briefing room.
"No, sir," the female cadet replied.
"You are now," he said. "Since your classmates have nothing
better to do than gawk in a hallway, I think you can find the time to
inventory the cargo containers at Docking Platform #2. I'll inform
the quartermaster that you will personally have it on her desk by 2100
hours."
"Yes sir," she replied, and with a nod from the officer they
rushed off. As they left the man joined with a small group of others
who had just left the briefing room. Seven noted the smile on Captain
Janeway's face, a complete reversal of her previously somber attitude.
"Your debriefing went well?" Seven asked.
"Better than well," Janeway replied as the two started walking
through the corridors of Starfleet Command. "It seems our little
detour through the wormhole may have a much larger consequence than
we'd thought."
"The hyperdrive will bring substantial changes," Seven
remarked. "Further tradings for Imperial technology would be wise."
"Off the record," Janeway remarked, a phrase that Seven still
failed to understand, "it's going to be a lot bigger than that." They
drew to a halt as the cadet returned. "Can we help you?" Janeway
asked politely.
"I'm sorry, sir," she replied nervously, then turned to Seven.
"I just wanted to apologize on behalf of myself and everyone else. We
didn't mean to offend you."
"I do not take offense," Seven replied.
"Well, what we did was rude, and as future Starfleet officers
we should've known better."
Seven looked at Captain Janeway nervously, then back. "You
should be completing the admiral's orders. It would be a mistake to
neglect your duty by talking to me." She continued walking, the girl
looking oddly between her and Janeway before the captain rushed to
catch up.
"Was there a problem?" Janeway asked with concern.
"No," Seven said curtly.
Captain Janeway nodded, clearly not believing it but knowing
better than to bring it up now. "Let's get back to the ship. I think
we've spent enough time on Earth for right now."
Seven took a deep breath. "Agreed," she replied with a hint
of exhaustion.

Lt. Delric Taar tapped his datapad absentmindedly on the table
in front of him as he waited for the fleet-wide briefing to begin.
Whatever was going on made him edgy; the zero hour for the rebel
attack had come and gone, and command refused to breathe a word to the
lower decks of what was going on, even though it was obvious something
was up. The fleet had left the incomplete Death Star undefended days
ago, a dangerous move in his opinion. Of course, there was no love
lost between himself and the Death Star. More than one of his friends
had left the service over Alderaan, their hatred overwhelming their
loyalty for order and peace. Now he'd been forced to blow his former
wingmates away, and all because of a superweapon that was, by its very
nature, a tactically useless tool.
According to the rebellion, Alderaan had been destroyed by
Grand Moff Tarkin just to spite a rebel spy. Of course, it was
probably just propaganda, but down deep Taar had to wonder whether or
not anyone could command such power and be able to show restraint. He
wasn't optimistic, especially with Moff Jerjerrod in command. He'd
seen the moff's reaction to Lord Vader, and putting ultimate power in
the hands of a whiny sycophant was like giving an infant a thermal
detonator to play with.
Before he could continue the thought the holograms of other
squadron leaders appeared throughout the room, the fleet flight
coordinator appearing in the center. Taar got his datapad ready as
the briefing began.
"Squadron leaders," the major began, "meet your new enemy."
The rotating image of a cube-shaped object appeared on each table, a
smaller one of a star destroyer alongside it for scale. "They're
called the Borg, and it is our responsibility to ensure that they pose
no threat to the Empire." Taar took notes as the previous battles
involving the Borg were given, the known points of their defenses, and
the reason for the upcoming mission.
"We are going to cross through the wormhole and into Borg
space," the major continued. "Since they have no concept of diplomacy
we plan to annihilate enough ships and planets to show them that
further attacks on the Empire would be a devastating mistake. Any
questions?"
Taar spoke up. "Sir, Interceptors, as the very name implies,
are meant to deal with fighter craft. They cause minimal damage to
corvettes. What possible use do they have against a ship this size?"
The major exhaled in annoyance. "We've determined that
swarming the cubes with fighters will provide a distraction that will
allow our star destroyers to do their work."
Don't say it, Delric. Don't say it, Delric. "So we're flying
targets. Sir." You shouldn't have said it. The major's look of
scorn agreed with that sentiment.
"I think the major was impressed with your tactical
assessments," Lt. Starrunner, squadron leader for Grey Squadron,
remarked after the briefing was over.
"Kriff him," Taar said with disgust. "These guys get taken
out of the pilot seat and suddenly they forget what it's like to have
inches of plexisteel between you and death."
"This is messed up," Starrunner agreed. "You heard how
accurate those Borg can get. They're asking us to basically die when
we can't fight back. And do you think my bombers have a chance of
staying ahead and outmaneuvering these Borg?"
"Not without cover," Taar said. He sighed, then rapped his
datapad on the hull a couple of times. "Lohl," he said finally,
"let's get our squadrons together for some simulations. Maybe there's
a way we can fight back against the Borg after all."

Jean-luc Picard, captain of the Federation flagship,
Enterprise, sighed with impatience as he waited outside the office of
Adm. Parks. After six weeks of separation from my ship you would
think I'd be used to it, he thought gloomily. He wasn't accustomed to
being out of the loop, at least not when it came to the Enterprise.
That Data, Geordi, and his engineering staff were allowed on board was
all the more infuriating, but at least now he could speak to someone
who could give him information, maybe even access to his ship again.
He got to his feet as that someone arrived.
"Apologies for the delay, Jean-luc," Adm. Parks said, shaking
his hand.
"Not at all," Picard lied. "It seems these days time is
something I have plenty of."
Parks laughed as he led Picard into his office. "Yes, there's
a fine line between R&R and boredom, isn't there."
"Exactly," Picard said, hoping this meant the admiral was
going to let him in on what was happening.
Parks took his seat, offering Picard a chair as he did.
"Jean-luc, I know it's not easy being kept in the dark on what goes on
on your own vessel, but believe me, it's in the name of Federation
security."
"Indeed," Picard said neutrally. It seemed to him that a lot
was being done in the name of Federation security lately, and he
wasn't all that pleased with where that was leading. The declaration
of martial law remained a particular sore spot with him, and a
reminder that their society was not as rock-solid as he'd like to
think.
"We have an opportunity to forever change the balance of power
in this quadrant," Parks continued. "A chance to ensure that the
Romulans, the Cardassians, not even the Dominion will be able to
threaten the Federation again."
"A new weapon?"
"An ally," Parks answered. "Someone with resources and
technology that, along with our own strength, will deter practically
any power that might try to wage war on us."
"And you're afraid someone might form a treaty with these
people first," Picard said.
"Not exactly. No one can reach them in any reasonable amount
of time; they exist on the other side of a wormhole that's over
halfway across the galaxy."
Picard was a bit baffled. "I'm not sure I understand. How
helpful can this power be if it would take decades just to reach
them?"
Parks smiled. "Because right now we're the only ones who can
reach them without taking decades." He explained to Picard about
Voyager's encounter with the Borg, the Empire, and the new hyperdrive.
"And this is what you've been doing with the Enterprise all
this time," Picard concluded at the end. "Installing this
hyperdrive."
"Yes," Parks confirmed. "You can see the need for security.
Even without the possibility of an alliance, the ability to deploy our
forces at hundreds of times the speed of our enemies gives us an
incredible advantage. If that technology were stolen, it could be
damning."
"I understand," Picard added. "But there's something I'm not
clear on. If this treaty with the Empire is so important, why did we
not send Voyager? They have a functioning hyperdrive."
"Yes, but that's about all that's functioning. Voyager's been
flying through Borg space for some time; she wasn't in the best shape
when she returned. And besides that, a mission of this importance
requires a captain with a skill for diplomacy, and I think there's no
one better qualified."
With each passing second the frustrations of the previous
weeks was replaced with anticipation as Picard thought of the
magnitude of this mission. A mission of diplomacy to a civilization
that spanned an entire galaxy was beyond the expectations of even the
most fanciful cadets. "When do we leave?" he asked, now all the more
impatient to get back to his ship and begin this historic trip.
"Three days," Parks replied. "The hyperdrive should be
finished tomorrow, which should give your people enough time to
familiarize themselves with the new equipment and prep for the
mission."
"Will Captain Janeway be giving us a briefing?"
"Better. She's re-assigning a member of her crew to act as
your advisor on both the delta quadrant and the Galactic Empire."
"Who?"
"She hasn't decided yet," Parks answered. "She needs someone
who's not only familiar with their technology, but has expertise in
delta quadrant astrometrics and dealings with the Imperials. Finding
someone who fits that bill won't be easy, and giving them up will
probably be even harder."
"Well," Picard said as he rose to his feet, "I'll certainly
look forward to meeting whoever is up to that challenge."

Seven of Nine walked through the door to the captain's ready
room. As always, Capt. Janeway was seated behind her desk, a PADD in
one hand, a mug of coffee in the other. She was nothing if not
predictable. "You wished to see me, captain," Seven stated.
Janeway continued to look at the PADD. "Yes, Seven, please sit
down."
"Unnecessary, I'm comfortable standing."
Janeway put down the PADD. "Yes, of course you are. I forgot,
the Borg even sleep standing."
"Inaccurate. The Borg regenerate, they do not sleep."
Janeway came around and sat on the edge of her desk. "Yes...."
Janeway continued after a brief pause. "Everything is in order, all
damage to the ship has been repaired, and I've finally got my private
dining room back," she added with a slight smile. "Some of the Maquis
officers have asked to transfer to Starfleet, and permission has been
granted for them to remain at their current posts. I've even persuaded
them to keep the Doctor on line as our chief medical officer, although
that took a little convincing."
"I assume you're not updating the ship's status with the
entire crew in this manner."
"No." Janeway had a look of disappointment. "That leaves us
with our two resident civilians. Mr. Neelix has already departed. That
leaves us with you."
Seven breathed a little heavily, then began to speak. "If you
do not wish me to remain on board I will leave. I understand that
circumstances have changed."
Janeway stepped forward and grabbed Seven's hand. "That's not
what I'm saying. You've been an asset to this ship. There's a chance
that we wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. We don't want you to
leave. But it would be selfish of us to force you to remain on board.
We'd be denying you new experiences, a chance to explore your
humanity." Seven was uncharacteristically silent. "Going from life
on Voyager to life on Earth isn't going to be an easy transition,"
Janeway continued. "I think that's obvious to the both of us."
Seven nodded slowly, not looking at her captain. "Adapting
would be... difficult."
"Perhaps it's time for a small step in the right direction."
Janeway turned and picked up the PADD off her desk. "And I think we
have the perfect opportunity for you to take that step. Tell me, are
you familiar at all with the Enterprise?"



CHAPTER V.

"There is something wrong."
It was the voice you hoped to never hear, especially directed
at yourself. It was, on its own intimidating, with its resonant bass
overlaid on that haunting rhythm. The mechanical breathing chilled,
as if a subtle reminder of universal mortality. Yet even then the
voice did nothing to prepare you for the man; two meters of strength
embodied in flesh and machinery. An imposing body that was completed
by an expressionless mask for a face to leave this man all the more
inhuman. Throughout the Empire his reputation was so legendary, so
terrifying, he literally needed no introduction.
Commander Pakkib knew that reputation as well, and ever since
the Dark Lord of the Sith had arrived on the incomplete Death Star he
had felt fear gnawing at his entrails. The personal inspection had
gripped the entire station with similar despair, given that Darth
Vader's disappointment rarely led to anything but death. At the
moment, he sounded too disappointed for Pakkib's liking.
"What's seems to be the problem, my lord," Pakkib managed to
ask. While he knew of nothing wrong, it was obvious contradicting
Vader could only make things worse.
"A tremor in the Force," Vader declared. No one knew if he
was staring at them behind that mask, but no one made any effort to
draw attention to themselves. Commander Pakkib tried to ignore the
beads of sweat that were forming on his forehead with each inhale and
exhale. "I want a complete check of the computer systems," Vader
finally said. "And I want it done manually. Every last bit is to be
analyzed."
"Understood my Lord," Pakkib replied. He swallowed slightly
and continued. "But I must tell you that it will take several
technicians to complete this assignment. It may start putting us
behind." Better to face Lord Vader's wrath now than live in fear of
its approach.
"Perhaps someone else could impel them to remain on schedule."
"No," Pakkib said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "I was just
keeping your lordship appraised. We will remain on schedule."
"Good," Vader implied, but there was no trace of satisfaction.
"I'll expect your report very soon."
The anticipation was now far worse than whatever punishment
the dark lord might offer. Pakkib turned to three of his technicians.
"You are relieved of your current assignment. Your new task is to
carry out Lord Vader's command - any anomalous files are to be
analyzed in detail. This is your top priority." He turned to the
others present. "The rest of you continue. We will remain on
schedule, whatever the cost," he declared. Several hours later,
one of the technicians hailed him on the comm system, his voice
betraying obvious surprise and concern. "Sir," he said, "we've found
what looks like some kind of droid memory file in the main computer."
"What?" Droid memory files are rarely backed up at all, and
definitely wouldn't be stored in an area where it could potentially
access vital systems. Having it on the main computer of a Death Star
was about as bad as it could possibly get. "Erase the file
immediately," he ordered. The technician acknowledged it, but a
second later there was the sound of blaster fire and screaming. The
autodefenses had killed him and the other two members of his team.
Pakkib realized he was wrong; the worst it could possibly be was a
hostile droid with control of the station. Chaos descended as Pakkib
and his men began trying to isolate the rogue program, but apparently
during all this time, the droid mind had been searching for ways to
get around them. Every time they tried to throw up a programming
wall, the droid found a way to bypass it. Every time they tried to
physically remove its connection, they were attacked by the automated
defenses. As the droid continued to assert more and more control
Pakkib began contemplating the only solution: evacuate the station and
overload the reactor. It would be a disaster, but nothing compared to
a rogue Death Star.
"What's the situation?" Vader demanded, causing Pakkib to
visibly jump. Pakkib quickly filled him in. "The main computer is
located in there?" he asked, pointing at the doorway.
Pakkib nodded. "But the defenses have been activated, which
means the laser gate's armed and the computer's shielded, so we can't
shoot it. We'd have to cut the power at the junction but it's
impossible to reach from outside the room.
Vader walked up to the door to examine it. Beyond, he could
see the dead bodies of the other technicians. The lasergate was the
ultimate deterrent. Anything trying to penetrate would be blasted, and
any attempt to destroy the weapons would cause an explosion strong
enough to kill any would be invader. A perfect barrier - for anyone
who wasn't a master of the dark side. The crew looked on in
astonishment as Vader took three steps back, then ran and dove through
the opening. The weapons fired, but the Dark Lord twisted his body to
avoid most of them. One blast did strike just below his right
shoulder, but the beam dissipated with no effect. Vader rolled once
across the floor and into a fighting stance, his lightsaber ignited.
Automatic security devices began firing, and the blade snapped out and
deflected them. One, two, then the third came and he deflected it
right into the junction, causing the shield around the main computer
to collapse. He sprang, cape billowing behind him, lightsaber
continuing to snatch the blaster bolts out of the air until he landed
and stabbed straight through the casing. After that, there was
silence, save for the sizzling sound of broken electronics.
Pakkib was so shocked at what had just happened that it didn't
really register until the dark lord was standing right in front of
him. His awe gave way slowly to fear; he noticed several technicians
jump when the lightsaber was turned off. "Who was responsible for
checking the programming of that computer?" he demanded.
Pakkib hesitated for a moment, while the various parts of his
brain tried to shake themselves loose to dig through the metaphorical
files. "Lt. Teklif, my lord."
Vader turned and looked over the assembled group; they shrank
back as the blank mask passed over them. "You are aware that this
incident will put us even farther behind schedule?" Vader asked.
Pakkib nodded. "Yes," was all he could say.
Immediately, one of the technician's eyes grew wide and he
began grasping at his throat. Those who were nearby began moving away
slowly as his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the floor.
Vader turned back to Pakkib, who closed his eyes. At least it would
be relatively quick, if not particularly pleasant. But instead of the
grip on his throat, Vader began to walk away. "Inform your superior
that you will need a new computer." He paused, then turned back. "And
a new technician."

"Admiral," the captain said, and Piett walked over to the comm
station. There were still a few patrols that hadn't reported in yet;
perhaps this was the lead they'd been looking for. Combing through
this galaxy was almost as bad as some areas of the Outer Rim; finding
the worlds of these Borg that had bloodied Thrawn's nose was proving
difficult.
The communications officer spoke up. "Sir, Scoutships are
reporting in from Sector 17. They've found a planet, technology seems
similar to the one our sensors detected."
"More than likely it's our Borg boogeymen," the captain said.
Piett nodded. "And if not, they could probably point us in
the right direction. Alert all commands, converge on those
coordinates." And with that order, the fleet of star destroyers
slipped into hyperspace.

Picard had been waiting in his ready room when she arrived.
He'd been looking over the mission details, and he had to admit that
he was practically as giddy as a fresh graduate taking his first
assignment. The idea of opening diplomatic relations with a
civilization as vast, ancient, and advanced as the Galactic Empire
went beyond even the pipedreams of young cadets. Sure, he wasn't
going to be actually engaged in negotiations -the delegates on board
would handle that- but he'd be the one to get the foot in the door.
When the door chimed he gave his standard "Come!" without even pausing
in thought. But the sight of her was like dropping several tons of
lumber on his mental railroad tracks.
She was dressed in a blue full body suit rather than a
uniform, along with a pair of high-heeled boots. The fact that it
emphasized her highly-attractive figure, however, didn't really
matter. For Picard, it was her face, her hand, the tell-tale signs of
the one and only civilization that used that particular type of
technology. She is, or was, Borg. "Annika Hansen?" he asked in a
voice that said he couldn't imagine the answer to that question being
"Yes."
The woman had been examining the room, more like analyzing
given the way her eyes seemed to dwell on things. "I suppose that was
the name you were provided," she said. "As you are the commanding
officer of this vessel, you may choose to address me by that
designation, though I should warn you that simply using it will not
make me become that person."
Picard was now kicking himself for spending too much time
looking over the mission details and not taking the time to check the
new crewman's file beyond her name... and it seemed that even that
data had been flawed. "What would you prefer?"
"I am Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix Zero One.
But you may call me Seven of Nine."
Picard nodded to himself. The commander of this mission is
the only Starfleet officer to escape assimilation, and he's going to
meet with the Empire immediately after the Borg destroyed one of their
ships, so naturally Janeway would choose to send a Borg as his
advisor. No wonder they didn't want Voyager handling the diplomacy.
"You are a Borg, yes?" he asked, just to be certain.
"I am no longer a member of the collective, I am an
individual," Seven informed him.
"Yes, I can see that," Picard said in a neutral tone. "Then
you must know about me."
"Our thoughts were one for a time, Captain Picard," Seven
said. "But the irrelevant details of your life are not known to me.
Am I too assume that this won't be a hindrance to my assignment?"
"I would never allow my personal feelings to interfere in my
duty." Picard stopped. Why did he say that? That implied there were
some personal feelings involved! "You are familiar with the Empire?"
"Yes, captain," Seven said. "I was involved in most of our
direct meetings and have first-hand experience with their technology.
I have also been briefed on the experiences of others."
"Good, we'll need you to avoid any missteps. I don't think I
have to tell you how important this meeting will be for us. The
Empire could be a powerful friend, or a lethal enemy."
"Agreed," Seven said. "I will ensure that you are adequately
advised in all circumstances."
Picard nodded slowly. "Your quarters have already been
assigned. Do you have any special needs we should be aware of?"
"Yes," Seven said. "I assume I will be provided standard
quarters. The bed can be removed; I do not require sleep. I will,
however, require a power conduit be adapted to interface with my
systems."
"You need an alcove, is that what you're saying?"
"Yes, captain." She noticed the tone in his voice. "Is that
a problem captain?"
"So long as you don't go assimilating our ship, no," he said,
then mentally kicked himself for the remark. That's twice she's
gotten under your skin, Jean-luc, he thought. And it's not her doing
it, it's you! "Inform Commander Riker, he'll make the arrangements.
If there's nothing else..."
"No, sir."
"Dismissed." Seven nodded and left. Picard dropped the PADD
on the desk. How was he going to open diplomatic relations with
another galaxy if he couldn't get along with his own crewmen?

The Executor and the rest of its fleet exited hyperspace; five
Borg cubes waited for them. They weren't the first they'd
encountered, but it was the first time that the Borg would be on the
receiving end, and the first time Piett had a speech of his own.
"Transmission coming in, sir," the communication officer said. Piett
nodded and it came over the speaker, thousands speaking a single
chant.
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your
ships. We will add your..."
"That's enough," Piett said, and the transmission was cut off.
"Ready our reply." He waited until the officer nodded. "This is
Admiral Piett of the Galactic Empire. You have violated our space and
repeatedly attacked our ships without provocation. This will not be
tolerated." He turned to the captain. "Alert all commands, engage
and destroy."
As the fleet closed in on the Borg world, the cubes rushed to
engage them. As before, despite their adaptations, the turbolaser
blasts tore massive holes in their ships. Still, the Collective
seemed to press on despite the obvious damage, like an animal that had
become so rabid it wouldn't stop attacking even if it was being killed
by the defender. However, the Borg weren't animals, they were logical
and unemotional, so they ignored the damage and instead concentrated
their attacks on a single star destroyer. Despite the heavy damage
they managed to batter the ship's shields down. They bombarded the
ship with bluish-green bombs, which seemed to act as a kind of ion
blast. The star destroyer's weapons were becoming less and less
effective as the seconds passed.
But outnumbered and outgunned, the cubes couldn't stand up to
the rest of the fleet. The last of the cubes was reduced to
fragments. "Report," Piett ordered.
"All ships are reporting no damage, sir," the captain said.
"Except the Tyrant. Captain Lennox reports that the damage to many of
their systems is serious; they'll need to return to the station to
make repairs."
Piett nodded. "Send them to Base One. Once the ship's
functional, I want it back here with the fleet." The captain nodded
and passed the message along. As the Tyrant limped off, the rest of
the fleet closed in on the planet. "We'll show these Borg whose
resistance is futile." The Imperial fleet bombarded the planet; the
Borg offered no resistance. Within minutes every square meter of the
crust had been reduced to smoking craters.

Picard exited his ready room. "I assume we're ready, Number
One?" he asked.
"Ready as we'll ever be, sir," Riker said. "Mr. LaForge says
all systems are go."
"Helm, take us out of Spacedock; let's see what this engine
can do." He took his seat; Riker was on his right as usual, while
Seven had been provided the one normally allotted to Counselor Troi
for the purpose of the mission. He watched as the doorway opened to
allow the massive Sovereign-class ship to exit. "The anticipation is
unnerving," he confessed to Riker.
"I feel a bit like Zephram Cochrane," Riker admitted. "Brand
new propulsion system, first contact."
"Except we're not first, Will," Picard reminded him. "We're
just making this trip. Everyone knows Armstrong and Aldrin were
first, who remembers the second?"
"Peter Conrad and Alan Bean, sir," Data said.
Picard turned to him. "Thank you, Mr. Data," he said.
Data nodded. "In ten seconds we will be far enough outside
the Earth's gravity well to engage the hyperdrive, captain."
"And we'll see if it's everything we've been told it'd be."
"The technology is effective," Seven informed him.
"I'm sure it is," Picard replied. "On my mark, helm...
engage." And with that the stars began to lengthen and twist into
starlines, and suddenly, they were gone.



CHAPTER VI.

Even after six days, Picard still couldn't get over the eerie
feeling he had whenever he looked out the window of the Enterprise.
Instead of the familiar streak of stars, there was an unnatural flow
of...something. He didn't know how to describe it; hyperspace is what
Seven of Nine called it. Whatever it was, it felt wrong. Still, that
was the price that came from crossing the galaxy at such fantastic
speeds, and if a journey of decades can be reduced to days, Picard
conceded hyperspace could look as ugly as it liked.
Lt. Commander Data's voice brought him back to the present.
"We'll be approaching the wormhole in fifteen seconds, captain."
Picard acknowledged, and waited, then on Data's order helm shut down
the hyperdrive, and hyperspace turned to starlines, then collapsed
back into the familiar view of real space, fifty thousand light-years
now behind them.... and one very massive object in front of them.
"All stop." Picard ordered. "What is that?"
"It appears to be some kind of space station sir," Data
informed him. "Although I am not familiar with any of its design
patterns."
Seven of Nine turned to the captain. "It's similar in size and
appearance to the Imperial station where Voyager was repaired. It's
likely the Empire constructed it to guard the passage to the wormhole
from future Borg attacks."
"Captain," Data continued, "I'm also detecting a vessel, 1.6
kilometers in length."
Riker turned to Picard. "Big ship."
"It is an Imperator-class Star Destroyer," Seven of Nine
informed him. "We encountered three such ships when we first made
contact."
"Star...Destroyer?" Picard asked hoping that wasn't meant to
be taken literally.
"Merely its designation captain. Its weapons output is
insufficient to destroy a solar body."
Picard acknowledged and turned to Lt. Thomas McClure. "Use the
modifications to the deflector you were given. Open a channel."
McClure gave Picard a nod. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the
USS Enterprise. I'm here on behalf of the United Federation of
Planets. Is this the Galactic Empire?"
Finally, there was a response. "This is Commander Crovix.
State your business Enterprise."
"Not exactly friendly," Riker commented.
"But understandable under the circumstances, Number One,"
Picard replied. "Open the channel again." McClure did so. "We are
here to open negotiations with the Empire. We wish to use the
wormhole to travel to meet with your leaders."
"Stand by Enterprise," was their only response.
"Captain," Lt. Travis spoke, "a ship -possibly a shuttle- has
left the station and is heading for the wormhole."
"No doubt to check with their superiors on the other side,"
Picard noted.
Data turned to Picard. "Captain, sensors indicate familiar
energy signatures coming from the Star Destroyer. The energy
signatures are consistent with those left behind by Borg weaponry."
Picard turned to Seven of Nine. "Could this have been one of
the vessels that battled the Borg when Voyager was here?"
"Possibly," Seven admitted. With that, she got up and strode
towards the viewer. "Focus on the ship and magnify by a factor of 27,"
she ordered.
Data looked to Picard, who nodded. A close up view of the
plate revealed a very faint pattern on the ships hull.
"This is not the same ship," Seven stated. "The markings on
the hull are not the same."
"It seems that the Empire has had more run-ins with the Borg,"
Picard said. "Data, any similar signs of damage to the station?"
"No, sir. It would seem that this was not a defensive
battle."
"Which leads us to only one conclusion," Picard said. "This
station isn't the front line of defense, it's their fallback point.
They've come to fight the Borg."
"Who seeks out the Borg?" Riker asked. "It's bad enough when
they come to you, why go looking for them?"
"That certainly is a good question, Number One. One I hope to
find an answer to."
Before the discussion could continue a communication came in
from the station. "Permission has been granted to enter the wormhole.
Once you pass through, you are to rendezvous with the Star Destroyer
Incaciad."
"That is the command vessel of Admiral Thrawn," Seven informed
the captain, taking her seat.
"Janeway's savior," Picard said. "Acknowledge the
transmission. Set course for the wormhole half impulse. Engage."
And with that, the Enterprise proceeded to the wormhole, and
disappeared from the galaxy.

"Attention! Borg ships approaching. Prep all TIEs for
immeditate launch."
Delric Taar blocked out the redundant commands echoing
throughout the hangar and headed for his ship. The launch crews had
been on constant alert, and Taar knew his interceptor would already be
set for launch as soon as he reached it. He checked the rest of his
squadron before sealing the hatch, then fired the twin ion engines and
roared out into space, his squadron close behind. They slipped into
formation, Taar taking the point while his wingman slipped into his
eight. As they swept around, he counted no less than seven Borg
cubes. Numbers were still on the Empire's side, but the Borg had a
knack for bringing something new to the party; apparently Piett had
decided it was time to do the same.
"Grey leader this is Ebony leader," Taar said. It was time to
put theory into practice, and hope they didn't kill themselves during
the experiment. "We're going to cross the tee on cube three port."
"Acknowledged," was the response from Lt. Starrunner. As the
TIEs approached the cube, their ranks broke, shifting to a four-point
diamond pattern. Ebony 1 took the point of the lead formation,
leading the way towards the right-hand side of the Cube. At a
kilometer out the fomations broke away from one another, looking for
targets of opportunity. The ships began taking random dips and slides
as they approached, trying to reach that age-old balance of being
evasive while staying on target. "Prime target located," Grey 3 said
as the coordinates were sent to his targeting computer. The small
formation made a slight course change and continued - Ebony 1 still in
the lead with Grey 3 at the rear of the formation. It was a risky
situation; the Interceptors were only flying at a fraction of their
top speed at the moment to allow him to keep in formation. But it was
the best plan he had for the moment.
The cube loomed through the transparisteel window at the front
of his TIE. This is nuts, he thought to himself. You don't go after
blockade runners with Interceptors, nevermind something like this! "I
have a visual on the target," Taar said aloud. It seemed to be a
weapons array of some kind. They raced towards it, then on cue, the
two TIEs on his eight and four moved accelerated forward, guns
blazing. Their laser cannons splashed across the surface of the
array, but there was little to show for it. The Borg fired back,
narrowly missing Ebony 2. It had been random luck that he'd survived,
but turning back wasn't an option, so they continued to fire at the
array for all the good it seemed to do.
"Break formation!" Taar ordered, and the three ships split off
from one another. Grey 3, now with a clear shot at the weakened
structure, launched three concussion missiles before pulling away. The
missiles slammed into their target, vaporizing it.
"Ebony 2 and 3, form up," Taar ordered. "Grey 3 strafing run,
we'll cover." The others acknowledged as he swung away from the cube
for the moment. Beyond it he saw the Avenger and Devastator advancing
on the Borg's right flank. Turbolasers and Borg energy beams
crisscrossed space, putting their puny fighter attacks to shame. Did
I say this was nuts? he thought. I mean this is pointless! It's not
like the Empire isn't going to win this fight regardless of the
fighters, why did Piett tip their hand?! But it didn't fall to grunts
like him to make those calls, so instead he executed a tight spin to
join in on this suicide run.
The diamond formation quickly formed up and raced over the
surface of the cube at a mere fifteen meters. The three Interceptors
tried providing cover fire for the Grey 3, who was pelting the surface
with proton bombs. Half-way across the cube he pushed them to full
throttle, leaving the bomber behind but hopefully providing more of a
distraction by firing at targets of opportunity. But one problem with
the Borg was they just didn't take to distractions, and a green
torpedo rose up from the surface and hit the bomber, sending the two
pods spiral away and crashing into the surface of the cube. "Pull
up!" Taar ordered, but this time an energy beam came up and caught
Ebony 2, disintegrating it. Adrenal flooding his veins, Taar put the
ship into a Korvel Spiral as he raced away, torpedoes filling the air
around him. Finally he pulled clear and formed up with Ebony 3.
"Ebony Leader to Grey Leader, we've lost our bomber." The command was
acknowledged, but apparently things hadn't been going well for
Starrunner's boys. As Taar brought the ship around he saw that the
Borg were laying into the Avenger and Devastator, much like they had
against the Tyrant. Taar's stomach tightened at the sight. The Borg
didn't care how much damage they suffered so long as they continued to
wear the Empire down. They could lose ten ships for every one they
destroyed, and it wouldn't matter. How do you fight someone like
that?
"Grey Leader to Ebony Leader, head to point 03." Taar pulled
him and his wingmate around to return to their cube, joining up with
another set of TIEs to provide cover for the next bombing run. The
new formation -five Interceptors and two bombers- once again skimmed
the surface, weapons lashing out at the cube. Again, as if out of no
where, weapons fire struck at the tiny ships, vaporizing two TIEs
instantly. To avoid being struck by the weapons and debris, Taar
pulled a split-S, pulling away from the cube momentarily before his
spin brought him back thirty meters behind his bombers, who continued
their strafing of the cube despite the attack. Taar planned to
increase speed and overshoot the bombers to provide further cover when
he passed over one of the craters formed by a proton bomb. Taar
frowned at the information his targeting sensors were telling him.
"Ebony 3 do you see what I see?" he called over the comm.
"Yes sir," ES-13-3 replied. "What do you want to do?"
Ebony 1 pulled into a tight loop and began heading for the
crater. "Put some plasma up their collective port," he told him as he
opened fire on the crater. The weapons' fire managed to destroy the
unshielded bottom of the crater, opening up a passage into the heart
of the cube. Throttling back, the two TIEs dove into the entrance to
the Borg ship, firing at their unshielded surfaces. The cubes may
have had the power to adapt to their laser cannons, but the raw power
was too much for the helpless drones inside.
After about seven hundred meters the two TIEs blasted their
way into a large opening inside the cube. In the center of this space
was a large, hour-glass shaped structure with several openings along
its sides. Taar looked at his instruments. "What do you think Ebony
3?"
"Looks like a target to me, sir," ES-13-3 called back to him
over the comm.
Taar smiled inside his pressure suit. "Agreed. Fire at will."
The two Interceptors continued their approach, their weapons blowing
away huge chunks out of the shape. Manueverability was difficult, even
at low speeds in this confined area. Finally, their weapons sheared
through the construct and Taar watched the huge structure collapse in
on itself. Immediately, explosions began occurring throughout the
cube. The two TIEs turned to continue their volley, when a nearby
explosion knocked Ebony 3 off course and into the wall, exploding on
contact. Figuring he'd done enough damage in here, Taar headed for
the opening to go back to the surface. The series of explosions were
getting worse, and he started pushing the ship faster and faster. This
proved to be a near fatal mistake as the passage suddenly narrowed
ahead. Quickly he twisted his ship on its side and dove into the
opening, his lower port solar panel scraping the edge of the passage.
It seems that even during that short battle, the Borg had managed to
repair some of their ship. Alarms were sounding and in desperation he
pushed the ship to full throttle and hoped like hell he'd get out
before the TIE or the cube blew.
Finally he rocketed out of the cube and launched back out into
space. Looking back, he saw explosions consuming various parts of the
cubes, and TIEs pulling away from its surface. A stardestroyer, the
Stalker actually, was finishing it off with a full barrage of
turbolaser fire. Moments after he had escaped, the cube exploded. A
single piece of debris, just a meter or so long, struck his TIE,
completely searing the struts that held it to the starboard solar
panels. The ship had been on its last legs before, now it was
completely out of control. The Interceptor wouldn't respond to his
controls and an energy surge was arcing through some of the panels.
Systems were failing, and in an act of desperation he tried to shut
down the engines. As he touched the panel, a surge of energy passed
through his pressurized suit and into his arm, flooding his body with
pain as he seized up. His eyes glazed over, and the universe, dark as
it was, became black.

War has been described as long periods of boredom interrupted
by short periods of excitement. At the moment, Picard felt that peace
didn't seem that different. After all the time he'd spent waiting for
his ship, and then all the time prepping for this meeting, the
ambassadors had taken over, and he was left twiddling his thumbs at an
Imperial station. It was the dawn of a new age, perhaps the most
exciting time for humanity since the discovery that we weren't alone
in the universe. At the moment, Picard felt like he was stuck in a
hole with his sensors off-line.
Picard had been lamenting the situation with Riker when the
door chimed. It was Seven; it seemed to always be Seven. She wasn't
a Borg, not really, but nevertheless, he had trouble letting his guard
down around her, despite how much advice she'd provided throughout the
mission. Maybe I've become set in my ways, he wondered. I can't
stand hyperspace, I can't stand my advisor, maybe this new age isn't
for old men like me. "Yes?" he asked, trying to sound neutral and
failing.
"Admiral Thrawn has asked me to deliver a proposition to you,"
Seven informed the captain in the matter-of-fact way she had. "He
suggests that, to help bridge the gap between our civilizations, we
have an exchange of cultural history."
"What exactly does he mean by that?" Riker asked. Riker had
been spending the time scanning comm channels, and the longer they
were delayed, the more he became suspicious of the Empire. Perhaps he
wasn't ready for this new age either, Picard thought.
Seven looked at the PADD. "'Poetry, art, important historical
events, literature' were the specific examples he gave."
Picard nodded; this was exactly what he needed. "Extend the
admiral our thanks, and begin assembling a historical/cultural
database to give to the Imperials."
"Are you sure that's wise, sir?" Riker asked. "We really
shouldn't be exchanging any information with them while the
negotiations take place."
Picard smiled slightly. "I'm not giving them the access codes
for Starfleet Command, Will. An exchange of culture would be a healthy
way to start this meeting, not to mention give us a chance to get to
know the Empire a little better."
"Honestly, sir, I think I'm getting to know them quite well."
"Will, there's healthy skepticism, and there's paranoia. I'm
sure there's nothing to fear in letting Admiral Thrawn examine our
works of art."

On board the Redemption. Mon Mothma stepped up to the central
platform. The high-ranking members of the Alliance were present; they
knew only that something urgent had come in, and rumors were it wasn't
good. From her grave tone, it seemed that would prove to be true.
"We've all been wondering what is going on lately, why the Emperor has
diverted ships and changed his personal agenda so much over the past
two months. We now have an answer." A hologram of a section of the
galaxy appeared, focusing in on one particular area until the whole
sector was revealed. "Located near the Napuli System is a wormhole to
another galaxy. The wormhole was discovered when ships from the other
side invaded our galaxy."
A small murmur of discussion began. Mon Mothma had to speak
up in order to be heard. "One is an antagonistic race called the Borg,
who attacked and destroyed one of the Star Destroyers in that area."
"I take it that's not the good news we'd like to think it is,"
Lando said.
"No. The data our spies have gathered shows that they will
attack anyone without provocation. They're extremely dangerous to
everyone, regardless of what side they're on."
"Dangerous enough that we should be worried?" Leia asked. "Is
there a chance that they'd destroy the Empire and threaten all of us?"
"It's not likely," Mon Mothma said.
"Will we help the Empire, if the situation comes down to it?"
Leia asked.
Mon Mothma hesitated. "Let's hope we won't have to make that
choice."
"Well, regardless of whose side they're on, at least it's
something to keep the Empire busy," Han pointed out.
"Yes," Mon Mothma replied, "and it's doing just that. The
Empire has sent a fleet in to deal with the Borg threat, and greater
security has been set up in that area of the galaxy."
"You said 'one,'" Wedge said. "I take it the Borg weren't
alone.
"No," Mon Mothma said. "The Empire has had some dealings with
another group from the other side of the wormhole. They have already
given information and technology to the Empire, and our spies indicate
they are planning on opening diplomatic relations with the Empire."
Leia finally spoke up. "What exactly is the position of this
group?" she asked. "What do they want in return for their aide?"
"From what our sources have gathered, an alliance," Mon Mothma
answered. The members of the Alliance looked at one another. The
Empire alone was bad enough. If they had new allies, allies with new
technology, then it was grim news for the struggling rebellion. "It
seems that we have a new enemy," she said, "and it's called the
Federation."



CHAPTER VII.

Taar opened his eyes slowly. There was a white blur in front
of him, slowly solidifying as the seconds ticked by until shapes
emerged. Finally, his vision seemed to clear up and he checked at his
arm. Yes, it was still there. Good. As advanced as cybernetics was,
he'd heard about more than one pilot who just couldn't handle a craft
the same again. There's something about the feel of a ship that can't
be duplicated by a piece of technology.
Taar gave the room the once over. The medlab didn't look like
the one on the Stalker; was he on the Executor? Before he could think
more about it the door opened; it was an aide rather than a medical
droid. This likely meant things were about to get worse. "Good
morning," the aide said as amicably as possible. "Glad to see that
you've returned to consciousness; we've got some matters to clear up.
It won't take but a moment." He pulled out datapad. "First, your suit
was completely overloaded, so we don't even have a name for you."
Taar winced slightly as he started to sit up. "Lt. Delric
Taar, ES-13-1 stationed on board the star destroyer Stalker."
The aide nodded slightly, "A squadron commander... good for
you."
Whatever, Taar thought. Save your condescension for someone
else. "What's the status of Ebony Squadron? How many survivors?"
"I'm asking the questions," the aide said sharply. "You can
check their status later, lieutenant." He paused briefly and then
continued. "I assume you were forced to abandon your craft?"
"Yes, there was-" Taar paused. So much had happened so fast.
"The cube exploded, the debris hit my craft. I was lucky to get out
alive."
"Mm," the aid responded with the expected degree of sympathy.
"Yes, well, everything seems to be in order," the aide concluded. It
was, after all, just a TIE; the Empire lost a few every day. If Taar
had lost a shuttle it would have involved an accident investigation,
but this drew little more than a glance. "The med-droid says you'll
be fit for duty the day after tomorrow. You'll have your orders then."
Then he turned and strode out.
With effort, Taar pulled himself up, silently cursing all
bureaucrats everywhere. "I'm asking the questions," he thought, and
it comes down to name and why his ship went kabloowie. Tiny men in
the grand scheme who push around bits in a datapad; just let me fly my
ship and lead my men and I'll do whatever you want. He searched
around until he found his code cylinder and plugged into the network.
With a slight note of surprise, he saw that he was on Base One, not
the Executor. They must have evacuated some of the wounded to save
space. He went on to check what information there was about the latest
battle with the Borg. It didn't paint a pretty picture. It had been
a victory, of course, but they'd lost the Devastator. This was a big
setback, even though it wasn't readily apparent. Not only had that
left the Imperial forces weaker, it also meant the Borg could win
battles due to sheer attrition. The Emperor's plan wasn't working;
the Borg weren't backing off, they were testing the Empire's limits.
They were planning something... he just hoped the admiral was capable
enough to see that and call in some reinforcements.
Taar's stomach tightened into a knot as he looked at the
fighter results. Only three of the pilots from Ebony squadron
survived, himself included. Starrunner and his boys had been
completely wiped out as well. At least they hadn't died for nothing;
the stats showed that weapons fire from the cubes Ebony and Grey
squadrons had attacked dropped by 38%. It was good from a tactical
standpoint, but losing so many of his men made it a bitter pill to
swallow.
Taar disconnected from the network and tried to sleep. He was
exhausted, but sleep didn't come easy. His mind was filled with
images of Borg drones being cut down by his laser cannons and of that
cube exploding from the inside out. He wanted to do that again... he
wanted to fly in there and blow the living crap out of them, like
pouring gasoline down an anthill and lighting a match. He forced
himself to put his thoughts aside and rest. Only if he properly
recovered would he get the chance to relive that vision.

The Emperor opened his eyes and watched Mara Jade continuing
her exercises. At the moment she was trying to move multiple objects
with her mind. Her frustration with her failure was obvious. "Good,"
he said, causing her to jerk slightly at his sudden comment. "Anger
is a source of power. Reach in and harness it, feel the hate flowing
through you, empowering you!" Mara nodded and went at it again with
renewed vigor. Soon objects were swirling around the throne room like
a whirlwind. They dropped when the Emperor's haunting chuckle reached
her ears. "Good, very good. You're learning well, my young
apprentice." He paused as the door opened and Darth Vader appeared.
Vader's walk slowed as he approached the throne, noting Mara's
presence. There was an undercurrent of mutual hate. "Leave us," the
Emperor told the girl, and she nodded and walked out. Vader stepped
before the Emperor and kneeled, rising only when he was told to.
"I sense something is troubling you, my friend," the Emperor
said.
"Yes, master." Vader paused. "'And there shall forever be no
more than two, one the master, and one his student, lest the way of
the Sith be lost forever.'" Vader said, quoting the words of Darth
Bane that had ensured the survival of the Sith for millennia. "Have
we given up on old ways?"
"Yes, we have," the Emperor said matter-of-factly. "No longer
do we lurk in the shadows, fearing the Jedi. I felt the disturbance
when that little green imp died; and with him dies the ways of the
Jedi. We are the only ones now who have the power of the Force, and
it is time we used it to the fullest."
"And so you train this one?" Vader asked. "She is nothing
more than a convenient spy-"
"I will decide who I will train," the Emperor said sharply. "I
train her as I will the young Skywalker. That was, after all, your
suggestion, Lord Vader." The Emperor gave a moment to reflect on that
fact. "I have foreseen her, Vader, leading our forces against our
enemies, with your son at her side."
"So he will join us."
"Oh yes. The details are difficult to see, but he will
embrace the power of the dark side."
"Forgive my doubt, my master," Vader said with a nod of
respect.
The Emperor nodded in return. "What is the status of the
Death Star?"
"It will be finished within the next ninety days, my master."
"I see it's not on schedule."
"No, the men have been suitably disciplined."
The Emperor's throne rotated slightly. "It is of no
consequence. It will serve its purpose when needed. I have summoned
you for an entirely different reason." Vader waited patiently, his
mechanical breathing the only sound filling the chamber. "I have
nearly completed negotiations with diplomats from the Federation, a
puny civilization in the galaxy beyond the wormhole. You will travel
with the diplomatic corps that returns to their homeworld."
"Why should we be concerned with this insignificant group?"
Vader asked.
"Because, the Federation is our foothold, Lord Vader. Through
them, we will seize control of their entire galaxy."

The Lambda-class shuttle slipped into hyperspace as Lt. Taar
moved into the $#@!pit of the small craft. He was the only passenger
on board the tiny shuttle, just him and a hold full of technical
equipment sent out to rendezvous with the fleet on the front line.
Taar wondered what was happening out there. The last engagement had
been the one he'd been in, just under a week ago. The Borg had
actually bloodied the Empire's nose that time, it should have only
strengthened their resolve... if Borg could have resolve, that is.
Instead they'd pulled back, left their worlds undefended. No, they
were up to something, and he didn't think he was going to like it when
he found it.
"So, why are you being sent off to Borg central?" the pilot
asked in an off the cuff way.
Taar looked him over for a moment before replying. "I'm
rendezvousing with my star destroyer. I was sent back to Base One to
get stitched up after the last engagement."
"Ah, let me guess, TIE pilot, right?"
"That's right," Taar said with disinterest.
The man gave a low whistle. "You know, they got two
categories for TIE fighter pilots: rookies, and frozen meat."
"Right," was Taar's only reply as he tried to ignore the
pilot. He didn't seem to take the hint.
"Happiest day of my life was when I was assigned to
transports," the pilot said with a grin. "The Imperial meat grinder
is not the place for me, no thank you

CHAPTER VIII.

The door opened for Picard, revealing the darkness of Thrawn's
office. He wondered if there'd been a mistake, but then he saw a
single source of light within. Slowly he stepped through the door and
heard the hiss as it closed behind him. As he approached he noticed
the light was coming from a hologram, a rather familiar hologram.
"Pardon my rudeness, captain," Thrawn said eventually, his eyes still
on the hologram. "I was just pondering this strange painting."
Picard walked up to Thrawn's side and looked as well. The
grand admiral was seated only a few meters away from the hologram of-
"The Mona Lisa," Picard said, "perhaps the most famous work of art in
Earth's history."
"Yes," Thrawn said as he leaned forward in his chair, "a
painting so simple and yet so - indefinable in its beauty. I have
been studying this great mystery for the past hour."
Picard smiled. "Scholars have spent their entire careers
studying this painting, trying to glean some insight. What does it
represent? How does it move us? What..."
"Yes, fascinating," Thrawn interrupted, "I was wondering why
she has no eyebrows."
Picard looked at Thrawn quizzically, and then back at the
painting. "Er, eyebrows, admiral?"
"She has no eyebrows," Thrawn said with a gesture of slight
confusion. "Why would the painting of Earth's most famous woman have
no eyebrows?" Picard was stricken rather dumb by the question. Thrawn
swiveled in his chair to face him. "My apologies, I do sometimes get
engrossed in these things." He looked Picard over for a moment.
"Capt. Jean-luc Picard, of the USS Enterprise, representative of the
United Federation of Planets, good to finally meet you face-to-face."
Picard responded in kind. Thrawn paused for a moment. "What does it
mean to 'strike the colors'?"
Picard was starting to wonder if Thrawn was some kind of
eccentric. The Incaciad had contacted them, requesting Picard to come
over in person right away, and it seemed all he wanted to talk about
were colors and eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean,
admiral."
Thrawn smiled slightly, a somewhat chilling effect. "I was
reading about the USS Enterprise actually. No, not your ship, but its
namesake. Apparently in one of the ancient wars on your homeworld, a
ship called the USS Enterprise battled an enemy vessel, the HMS Boxer
during what was called the War of 1812."
Picard nodded as realization set in; he was naturally familiar
with the many namesakes of his ship. "Yes, in 1813 the two ships
engaged in battle off the eastern coast of what was then called the
United States. Two wooden vessels, their weapons limited to primitive
projectile launchers and their power provided by the wind."
"Yes," Thrawn nodded. "And during that battle, the commander
of the vessel, what was his name, oh yes, William Burrows, was killed.
And his last instruction to the crew was 'The colors must never be
struck.'" He looked at Picard. "So, again I ask, what does it mean
to 'strike the colors'?"
"In those days," Picard said, "a ship would fly flags on its
mast to show its allegiance. These flags were called 'colors.' To
strike the colors meant to raise the flag. That, at the time, was the
international sign for surrender."
"I see," Thrawn said. "So his final order was to never
surrender?"
"Yes," Picard answered, "the battle was too important. Burrows
knew that a defeat there would be a stepping stone for a total
invasion of the United States, and his country would be no more. For
him, that would have been the end of the world."
Thrawn nodded. "Yes, or course, sometimes sacrifices must be
made, to keep our worlds from ending." He seemed to ponder this.
"I've just received word from Coruscant," he said, shifting the
topical winds in a way that would no doubt impress William Burrows.
"The negotiations are nearing completion. One of the conditions is an
exchange of technology schematics." He reached over and pulled a
datapad out of a small case by his chair. "These will provide you
with information about the basics of many of our technologies."
Picard reached out and took it, wondering just what was
waiting for them in the electronic archive of the device. The
hyperdrive alone ensured that the galaxy would never be the same
again, how else would it change once these secrets were revealed?
"I'll have a similar collection of information prepared immediately,"
Picard told Thrawn.
Thrawn leaned forward towards Picard. "I'd like something in
particular, if you would be willing," he remarked. He looked at
Picard's face and smiled slightly, "Nothing remarkable. It is my
understanding that you and those who live in your part of the galaxy
use a different communications technology from ours. I'd be very
interested in seeing how it works."
Picard considered. "Subspace communication technology; that
won't be a problem. I'll make sure it's included in the report."
Thrawn nodded his head slightly. "Thank you captain."
With that, Picard turned to leave, just as the door opened, he
heard Thrawn call to him, "Captain." Picard turned back to the
admiral. "I look forward to working with you and the Federation. I
predict great things will come from this."
"As do I, admiral," Picard replied, and turned and left.
Moments later he was transported back to the Enterprise, his
excitement almost palpable. "Commander," he called as he entered the
bridge, "prepare a report for Admiral Thrawn on general Federation
technology. Have Mr. LaForge assist you. Make sure to include
detailed information on subspace communication technology."
"Sir?" Riker asked with some concern.
"There's been a breakthrough in the negotiations. We're
sharing basic information with our new ally. They have already given
us their technological report as a show of good faith."
Riker seemed momentarily hesitant, but he'd made his concerns
known repeatedly; doing so now, on the bridge, wouldn't be
appropriate. He nodded and set to work. "Data, Seven," Picard said,
"I want you two to go over this information. Memorize it, try to
understand as much as you can. I want daily reports on what you've
learned. This is your top priority."
"Understood, captain," Data said taking the datapad. He
nodded to Seven and the two walked off the bridge. Picard turned and
looked at the star destroyer on the viewscreen. "What strange new
world that has such people in it," he quoted.

Taar slowly opened his eyes and saw hyperspace swirling in
front of him. Quickly he leaned forward and hit the controls to bring
him back into real space. He glanced at the display; five hundred
light-years, in the wrong direction no less. It'd take the better
part of a day to make it back to Base One. But he was alive, and for
the moment, safe from the Borg. That's what counted. He punched in
the coordinates and returned to hyperspace, this time going the right
way. He wished he could send out a warning to them, but it was too
dangerous to give away his position. Besides, Base One had to have
heard about what had happened, and even that idiot aide would be smart
enough to call in some reinforcements.
With the ship on autopilot, Taar got up and tried to assess
the damage. Anything that wasn't nailed down had been sucked out
during the decompression, including the pilot. Taar really didn't
feel sorry for him, and it was certainly no great loss to the Empire.
Thankfully the equipment lockers had remained sealed, and he managed
to find some emergency rations. The low quality of field rations is a
universal constant, but Taar gorged himself on them as if it were
roast nerf with drippings. Finally, his physical needs tended to, he
began looking at the condition of the ship itself. Some damage had
been done to the ramp obviously, but it was still holding itself
together. If worse came to worse, he could always use a plasma torch
to cut through the viewplate in order to get out. The engines,
however, had been put under an even heavier strain during his escape.
The stress had caused some damage to the hyperdrive motivator, a
pretty serious problem considering he was flying through Borg space.
If he should be forced back into real space and run into even a single
cube, he'd have no hope. The weapons of this shuttle just aren't
strong enough to do any real damage, he thought. If they show up....
If they showed up, he'd follow Admiral Piett's example. Hopefully it
wouldn't come to that. In the meantime, he had a pretty long journey
ahead, so he settled back for some rest. It would be nice to be
unconscious voluntarily for a change, he thought as he stretched out
on the bunk and closed his eyes. Again, visions of dying Borg filled
his mind, and the twinges of a smile could be seen on his face.

The planet of Cordis hung against the backdrop of space, its
green surface flecked with streaks of brown, tapering to a pale blue
at its poles. Its reflected brightness, in contrast to the dotted
blackness of space, revealed a beauty that was both subtle and simple.
An ancient Caamasi poet once said that worlds are the jewels of space,
that even the most foul planet gained an elegance and sense of peace
that, for better or worse, it was a sanctuary. Unfortunately, peace,
beauty and sanctuary have no meaning to those who now approached the
calm world of Cordis. "Approaching planet in Grid 1092 of Unimatrix
02 prime, settlement of species 11035. Estimated population:
approximately 97,000,000. Scanning..." The four cubes hung over the
world. "Current population: 218,641. Commencing assimilation."
Grand Admiral Thrawn, having observed the effectiveness of the
Borg first hand, had recommended the Cordisi evacuate the world before
Piett had even arrived. Of course, there were always the brave,
foolish, stubborn, or just unlucky. They were there to hear the
message that broadcast on every frequency across the planet. "We are
the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your culture will adapt to
service us. Resistance is futile."
The Cordisi were a short species with a hardened exoskeleton
covered with thick hairs, and a long history of combat. Many of those
that stayed behind were members of combat orders that had passed down
their knowledge for ten thousand generations, and considered it an
unacceptable sin not to fight to defend their world to the bitter end.
They prepared traps and set up choke points, made contingency plans
for breaches. It was unfortunate, then, that the Borg didn't fight
that way, because perhaps then they might have had even a small
chance.
A beam lanced out from the cube in orbit over the city of
Ch'suvic and began ripping it apart. The Cordisi weren't sure how to
react when the pieces were scooped up and pulled into space. Someone
had found the controls to an old planetary ion cannon and blasted at
the cube. After a few shots, a green torpedo descended and struck the
facility, wiping out the complex while causing minimal damage to the
surrounding area. That was the most efficient.
The Cordisi drawn into the cubes were quickly disoriented and
captured. Some still attempted to resist even on board the cube, but
the approaching Borg overwhelmed them by sheer force of numbers. Just
hours after their arrival, the planet of Cordis had been stripped of
all technology and its entire sentient population. They were now one
with the Borg. The cubes departed, moving on towards the next target
for assimilation.

"Captain, the Incaciad is hailing us," said Lt. Travis.
"Onscreen," Picard ordered. Immediately the image of Admiral
Thrawn appeared, a thin smile on his face.
"Captain Picard," Thrawn said in a formal tone, "it is my
great pleasure to inform you that the negotiations have been a
success. As of thirty minutes ago, the Galactic Empire and the
Federation officially became military allies."
"That's good news admiral," Picard replied, trying to contain
his own excitement. The moment was finally here, he thought. Military
alliance, sure, but that was just getting the foot in the door. A
grand future for the Federation was beginning at this very moment, and
he and his crew had been an instrumental part of it. "How will we be
proceeding?"
"Some of the diplomatic party you brought will remain behind
on Imperial Center as the Federation ambassadors," Thrawn explained.
"The rest will be rendezvousing with us in five days. Also, the
ambassadors to the Federation from the Empire will be arriving with
them. Once they've all arrived, my ships will escort you to the
wormhole, and from there you can take them back to Earth."
"Very good," Picard replied, "Then, if there's nothing else,
admiral?"
"We'll contact you, should it be necessary," was Thrawn's only
reply. The screen then went blank.
Riker turned to his captain, "Well, it seems our mission has
been a success." Riker's tone was completely devoid of any irony;
either he'd come around or decided to keep his opinions on the Empire
to himself from now on.
"Indeed, Number One," Picard responded in good humor.
"Commander, I think this particular mission I have in mind will
require your expert talents."
"What do you mean sir?"
"I think that this is a cause for a celebration, don't you?"
Riker grinned, "Of course, sir. I'll use all my Starfleet
training, sir."
"Oh I hope not," Picard replied, "I was hoping for something
interesting for a change."

A small alarm went off on the control panel for the shuttle,
signaling that Taar was finally almost there, and safe. As the
countdown completed the ship slipped from hyperspace into real space
just twenty thousand kilometers from the station...or rather, where
the station was.
Taar's mouth fell open in disbelief. It was the Borg; they
must have learned where Base One was from the assimilated soldiers,
and now the station was next. He pounded the console; I should have
warned them, he chided himself. One man wasn't worth the risk!
Finally, reason overcame guilt. Okay, he hadn't warned Base
One in time, but this was obviously just a Borg stepping stone. He
had to get through the wormhole and warn the Empire before the Borg
swarmed over their galaxy. He pushed the battered engines to the
limit; it didn't matter if his ship died on the other side of the
wormhole, so long as he could get a message through.
Taar's stomach sank as he saw three of the cubes alter course
to intercept him. They were too fast; he'd never make it to the
wormhole... at least, not using the sublight engines. A microjump for
a ship like this, especially after all they'd been put through, was
stupid, but the sight of those Borg cubes enter tractor range made up
his mind. His hands flew over the controls and he yanked back on the
lever; just as the Borg cube's beam reached for his ship it shot
forward and disappeared.
Unfortunately, the damaged motivator wasn't up to the task,
and the ship flew at lightspeed right into the wormhole. The swirling
tunnel of hyperspace turned from a milky white to a smear of purple,
and then a violent red. It was the most unpleasant sensation of
Taar's sad little life, his body feeling forces acting on it evolution
had never had in mind. The "sky" outside churned and heaved like a
living organ trying to expel the tiny shuttle back to where it
belongs. There was the squeal of machinery going beyond design
limits, and the hyperdrive collapsed in on itself, dropping ship and
pilot back into real space. The ordeal made him want to curl up into
a fetal position and throw up for a while, but regardless of how he
felt he still had to give that warning, so he looked at the read-outs.
The sublight engines weren't functioning, the stabilizers weren't
operational and, oh, the remnants of the hyperdrive were actually on
fire, Taar thought in a detached sort of way. As the sound of the
sprays coming on filled the ship, Taar tried to figure out where he
was. No sign of Borg, he thought with some relief, which probably
meant he'd made it through the wormhole. He added this maneuver to
the list of things to never, ever, do again, and started checking over
the rest of the ship.
Most of the panels were off-line, including, he noted with
frustration, the communications array. Fortunately, he still had the
shuttle's emergency homing beacon, assuming he was even in the right
galaxy for the Empire to pick him up. But, like so many other things
on this trip, it was his only option. He didn't have the kind of
training to fix this, and even if he did, he doubted he even had the
right tools, what with everything being sucked out of the shuttle. He
activated the homing beacon, sat back, and waited. Just to be safe,
he gripped the small holdout blaster he'd found in an equipment
locker. "Hopefully it wouldn't come to that," he thought again, but
then thought, "only if my luck changes."

Talon Karrde was shaken awake by Roolith. "What is it?" he
groaned. He'd been up the previous thirty-six hours and was really
hoping to grab some kind of sleep before they hit the main trade
route. You had to be careful even out here on the rim; the Empire was
a lot swifter with their "justice" then they tended to be in the core.
"I think you'll want to hear this, Karrde," Roolith said,
flipping the comm switch. The voice was deafening.
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ship.
You will be assimilated; resistance is futile."
"What the hell was that?" Karrde demanded. He activated the
panel nearby, and two cube-shaped ships appeared; the scale made his
jaw drop. "What do you say we get out of here," he said, hopping out
of his cabin.
"I think the crew will back you up on that, Talon," Roolith
said, following him. Karrde paused as he saw the ships through the
viewscreen, and he wondered if his luck had finally run out.



CHAPTER IX.

Two days after the alliance had become official, Picard and
Seven were escorted aboard the Incaciad to meet with Admiral Thrawn in
person. No one had said why, but there was a grim atmosphere that was
impossible to ignore. The armored personnel, whom Picard had learned
were called "stormtroopers" -bringing up some rather nasty images from
his studies of the twentieth century- led him to the conference room
where Thrawn and several other high-ranking officers were waiting.
Thrawn motioned Picard and Seven to take a seat.
"I'm afraid we have some rather unpleasant business to
discuss," Thrawn began. "As you may or may not have known, the Empire
has been at war with the Borg for over a month now."
"Yes," Picard said, his voice even, "we noticed Borg weapon
signatures on one of your ships when we first arrived. We'd been
waiting to hear what exactly was going on."
Thrawn sighed and continued. "We sent a fleet of ships in to
deal with the Borg, to cause them some damage and show them we weren't
to be trifled with. Unfortunately, according to Lt. Taar," he nodded
in the direction of the scruffy looking gentlemen across the table
from Picard, "it seems we underestimated them. The Borg have defeated
our forces and assimilated our people."
Picard leaned forward in his chair, his mouth open in shock.
The Borg with Imperial technology, he thought. That was the worst
possible scenario he could imagine. "How did this happen?" Lt. Taar
went over what he had seen of the climactic battle between the Borg
and the Imperial fleet, of its annihilation, his near capture, and his
witnessing the destruction of Base One.
"Admiral Piett made a fatal error," Thrawn said. "He moved
the entire fleet in to bombard the planet, when the task could have
been completed by a single star destroyer. That led to their being
trapped."
Picard looked to Seven, his confusion evident. "The
hyperdrive can't be activated near a large gravitational field," she
explained. "I would surmise that the fleet was unable to activate the
drive and escape, and was then assimilated."
"Correct," Thrawn said. "And immediately they knew all that
we do, that's why they took over Base One."
"Yes, it seems your little war has backfired," Picard
commented despite himself. However much he wanted this alliance,
mixing things up with the Borg was always the last thing he wanted to
do.
"Our little war," Thrawn replied, "remember, we're allies
now."
"Yes, we will assist in whatever way we can," Picard added
diplomatically.
"Good, that's why I asked you to come to this meeting. We
need to know some things about the Borg."
Picard nodded slowly. "You mean our first hand experience as
Borg."
"Yes," Thrawn said. "We have tactical data. What we need is
someone with your unique experience. You two were both assimilated by
the Collective. You should be able to give me some insight into their
ways of thinking."
Picard let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't really know..."
"What do you wish to know?" Seven asked.
"The Borg have had access to much of our military technology,"
Thrawn said. "I've no doubt they've learned to use our hyperdrive for
certain, which means that their speed and range will be greater than
what it has been in the past. What I want to know is, will they come
through the wormhole, or continue to conquer in their own galaxy?"
Seven considered for a moment. "Did the members of your
personnel who were assimilated know of our involvement with you?"
Thrawn looked over at the man identified as Lt. Taar. "I
didn't know," Taar said. "But I can't speak for the senior officers."
"In either event," Picard said, "the personnel on the space
station, Base One, knew of our arrival. If the Borg assimilated them,
they'd know of our involvement."
Seven considered it all for a short time. "There is a small
possibility the Borg may attempt to assimilate the Federation since
the Borg know they possess similar technology." Seven paused for a
few seconds. "However, the most likely course of action would be to
come through the wormhole. They would perceive the Empire as an
immediate threat and attempt assimilation and/or extermination."
Quite the diplomat, Picard thought. "We'll have to warn
Starfleet," he said.
Thrawn shook his head while he thought. "Unwise captain. If
the Borg were planning on invading our galaxy they'd mass a fleet of
cubes on the other side, you'd never get through to reach them, and
your communications would take years to get to Earth."
"I understand the risks," Picard said. "But it's my duty to
warn the Federation of any threat, especially one from the Borg."
"I can't risk losing your ship, captain," Thrawn said. "You
and your people have been at this longer than we have-"
"Yes, which is why I've no interest in seeing us lose now,"
Picard said sharply. "All thanks to a war you started."
Thrawn leaned forward towards Picard. "We have lost ten star
destroyers, a space station, hundreds of thousands of lives, and our
greatest ship against an enemy that you introduced us to. If not for
the Federation, there would have been no war."
Picard paused. "My apologies, admiral. You're right, of
course. What do you propose?"
Thrawn signaled several of his aides, who got up and began
walking out. "I've had thirty Imperial Dreadnaughts on standby in
case of such an event. They'll be arriving here in twelve hours. I've
already evacuated Napuli, Cordis, Trelam, and issued warnings to all
systems within five hundred light-years. We'll be expecting
reinforcements from throughout the galaxy should a total invasion
begin. I'm also planning on speaking with the Emperor directly on
this."
"Are you planning to blockade the wormhole?"
"No," Thrawn said. "That would be a waste of resources in a
fruitless effort. The Borg will overrun us, assimilate the system
anyway, and then proceed to attack the rest of the galaxy, and that's
assuming they haven't already passed through the wormhole. No
captain, our best course of action is to remain here and await
reinforcements to ensure our victory. Now, if you'll excuse me,
captain, I have to speak with the Emperor."
Picard and Seven were escorted back to the shuttle. The
Incaciad had their shields up all the time now; now it was obvious
that it was in case the Borg returned. Seven took the controls,
Picard lounged back in thought. "What chance does the Federation
have?" he asked quietly.
"None, captain," Seven said. "The Borg's first failure was in
failing to consider that you may infiltrate non-critical systems yet
cause a critical failure. The second was assuming that since that was
the sole cause of their initial failure, that simply sending a cube
and avoiding such infiltration was all that was required. If the Borg
come again, it will be in superior numbers, captain, and even if the
Federation does succeed, the hyperdrive will allow the next wave to
come before you can recover from the first. If the Borg choose to
assimilate the Federation, warning or no, they cannot be stopped."
Picard tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, but it
wasn't easy. "How could they have done this so quickly?" he mused.
"It took Starfleet weeks to determine how to set up the hyperdrive,
and that was with one already integrated into our ships."
"They are Borg," Seven said, as if it said all. Sadly, it
did.
"How would you feel if Earth was assimilated?" Picard asked.
Seven looked over at him with that penetrating gaze of hers.
"I assume that question is intended to determine where my loyalties
lie."
"It would make me feel better to know you have a personal
stake in it," Picard said. Seven opened her mouth to reply, then
turned away. "I assume you don't."
"I- I had spent over two years with Voyager," Seven said
finally, still not looking at him. "Were the Borg to invade, they
would no doubt be part of those forced to defend Earth. It would
be... unpleasant to learn that any of them had been assimilated."
"So you do care, at least about them."
"I would not wish to see harm come to them," Seven said. "If
I may, captain, I find this conversation uncomfortable, and wish to
terminate it."
"Very well," Picard said, putting the information aside for
later consideration. He was wondering if there was more to his
advisor than her appearance suggested.

A large gathering had formed in the recreation area on board
Home One. Occasionally, a whispered comment was made, followed by
several noises for quiet. The rebels looked carefully at both sides,
trying to guess who would make the wrong move, and who would take
advantage of the other's momentary weakness.
Han slowly looked back from his hand to the man across the
table. Lando's face betrayed nothing, and the smuggler slowly removed
a card from his hand and placed it beneath the deck, replacing it with
one from the top. Now it was Lando's turn to consider his options.
Finally, he reached forward and drew a card off the top of the deck.
Leia, slowly slid through the crowd to get a good look at the
two men; gamblers, scoundrels, heroes. She shifted over by Wedge, who
had been forced out of the match by a bomb out. Han looked over at
Lando and gave a slight nod, and they both took two card from their
hands and placed them face up on the table. Curious, Leia whispered
to Wedge "What are they doing?" Very quietly, he replied,
"Mandolarian variant. No shifting, and you have to slowly reveal and
commit your hand." Looking back, she saw things were getting even
more interesting. Lando had laid the mistress of coins and the one of
staves, a rather gutsy move, committing him to a rather low card later
on. Han, however, surprised all with a two of staves and the idiot.
All he needed was the three of any suit for the idiot's array, the
highest possible sabacc hand. Acknowledging each other's hands, they
dropped more credits into the pots.
You could actually hear the sound of the cards sliding off the
deck as the game continued. Han continued to replace cards in his
hand, waiting for that game clinching three, while Lando steadily
continued, soon dropping a four of coins. Both men drew one more
card, and Lando announced that he was finished. Triumphantly, he
placed his final card: the five of sabers. A few gasps of surprise
were heard as they counted them up: a perfect sabacc. Lando had this
hand clinched, unless Han held a three.
Slowly Han reached out and placed his card on the bottom of
the deck. His fingers stopped just as he reached for the top card.
"I'll give you one chance to back out right now," he said to Lando.
Lando remained stone-faced, and Han shrugged to the crowd and
confidently flipped the top card onto the table. The crowd stared in
utter surprise. Han smiled and looked down at the card and then at
Lando, and then quickly back at the cards again. The queen of air and
darkness, giving Han a score of zero, which not only cost him the
match, but meant he had to double the value of the pot. Leia tried
not to laugh as Han looked back between his cards and Lando and his
cards again. As the crowd dispersed Han picked up the deck. "Are
there any threes in here," he mumbled, shuffling through the pile
while Lando laughed.
"Nice try," Lando said, looking through the pot, "That's quite
a sum you owe. Maybe I should just take your ship."
"Sure, no problem," Han said as he continued his quest for a
three, "would you like me to throw in my Wookiee too?" A growl from
nearby answered him. "Take it easy, Chewie, I'm only kidding."
Disgusted, he tossed the deck back on the table. "This isn't over
yet."
"Of course not," Lando said, "I don't have my money."
"Not to interrupt this display of respectability and
selflessness," Leia said, "but you're both needed at an important
meeting." Leia hadn't oversold it; Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar,
General Madine, and General Riekken were all on hand, and no one else.
This must have been something pretty big.
"I'm afraid that things in the Napuli System have gotten out
of hand," Mon Mothma said in a rather worried tone. "It seems the
aliens called the Borg have invaded our galaxy."
"We're sure about this?" Han asked.
General Madine spoke up. "One of my agents spoke with a Talon
Karrde; he encountered the Borg on his way back from a smuggling run
to Trelam II. The sensor data he provided confirms that it is the
Borg."
"Oh... great," Han said darkly.
"I want you all to appreciate the significance of this," Mon
Mothma said. "Not only did they overwhelm Lord Vader's hand-picked
fleet of star destroyers and the Executor, they destroyed an Imperial
battlestation that guards the wormhole. They are a grave threat."
"According to our sources," General Madine said, "the Empire
is massing a fleet of starships to attempt to destroy the Borg in one
stroke. They won't be in place for at least a week."
"Have we made our decision?" Lando asked. "Are we joining
forces with the Empire to fight the Borg?"
"Not at this time," Mon Mothma answered. "Though if they seem
to be overwhelming the Imperial fleet we may be forced into that
position. We cannot allow our worlds to be overrun by these
invaders."
Admiral Ackbar spoke up at this point. "There is, however, an
opportunity here that we could take advantage of. With the
battlestation out of the way there are no Imperial forces to stop us
from using the wormhole to go to the other galaxy."
"Well, yeah," Han said, "and with good reason. These Borg are
probably all over the system."
"Yes, but they're not concerned with guarding the wormhole,"
Mon Mothma said. "They more than likely are expecting an attack by
the Imperial fleet, not an attempt to sneak past them and into the
other galaxy. With surprise on our side and a little planning, we
should be able to get through the wormhole safely."
"Why would we want to go there?" Han asked. "What's so
important on the other side?"
General Madine hesitated, but spoke up. "We don't know.
That's why we need people to go there, to find out what the Empire is
involved in. There's got to be more to this galaxy than the
Federation and the Borg. We could find new allies, or at least those
who can tell us more about our new enemies."
General Riekken finally began speaking. "I've been asked to
organize the effort to establish a small base in the other galaxy.
Work's already begun on that, but what we'll also need in large
amounts are courage and," he floundered slightly, "your unique
talents."
Lando and Han looked at one another and back at the general.
"Look," Han said, "I'm willing to put my neck on the line, but I want
to know it's for a good reason."
"You volunteered for the Endor shield mission," Mon Mothma
pointed out. "That was a far greater risk than this."
Leia looked with some surprise at Han, but he pretended not to
notice. "Yeah, a risk, but a risk that could've ended this war in one
fell swoop. I don't mind risking my life for that, but risking it by
running past cyborgs and heading for the unknown just for the sake of
reconnaissance, that seems a little unnecessary."
"General Solo, if you don't want to go..." Mon Mothma began.
"I'm not saying that," Han insisted, "I'm just saying if we're
going to do this, we better do it right and we better be doing it for
a good reason. We'll be splitting up our forces, we'll be risking our
people, our resources..."
"We've considered this, Solo," Ackbar said, "and we've decided
it's worth the effort."
"Fine," Lando said, "so who's all going?"
"You and General Solo will be responsible for information
gathering," Riekken said. "Her highness," he nodded, indicating Leia,
"will be responsible for diplomacy, should it be necessary. Commander
Antilles will be responsible for fighter co-ordination, and Colonel
Derlin will be responsible for base security. I'll be in command of
the overall mission."
"Fine, when do we leave?" Han asked.
"Five days. That should give us plenty of time to get
everything assembled, and still beat the Imperials to the wormhole."
"The Empire's a piece of cake," Lando said. "It's the Borg
we've got to worry about."

The Emperor looked with some distaste at Thrawn as he appeared
in the hologram. He would have been such a great leader if he weren't
so....alien. "What is it, admiral?"
"It seems Piett and his fleet have failed, my lord," Thrawn
said. "He failed to follow instructions, and now he and all our
Imperial forces in the Milky Way have been either destroyed or
assimilated."
The Emperor felt his anger swelling, both at the situation,
and Thrawn's indirect implication that the Emperor's decision was
responsible. "How could this have happened?" Thrawn began to
explain, but the Emperor stopped him. "Nevermind! What have you done
to resolve this?"
"For the moment, I've activated our reserve forces," Thrawn
said. "But I don't believe it will be enough. Without greater
support, we may not succed..." Thrawn looked away for a few seconds.
"Apologies, your highness, it seems the Borg have arrived. They're on
a direct course for-"
Suddenly Thrawn's image vanished, and in its place stood a
large cybernetic being. The Emperor looked at it with disgust at
first, then recognized the face beneath the implants. Captain
Lennox?! The Emperor knew he was part of Vader's fleet; rather
independent thinker but an effective leader. "I speak for the Borg,"
the hologram said. "We have come to bring you perfection. Your
biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.
Your culture will..."
The captain's neck began to twitch and convulse and he stopped
speaking. His neck began to visibly contract and finally, the man who
once was Captain Lennox fell out of range of the holotransmitter, the
sound of cracking trachea indicating death. The Emperor released his
grip as the image of Admiral Thrawn returned.
"What are your orders, my lord?"
Hatred burned through the Emperor at the gall of these aliens
to invade his domain. "Your orders, admiral," his voice just above a
whisper, "are to wipe the Borg from the face of the galaxy!"



CHAPTER X.

"We've got it sealed. You're clear to depart."
"Thank you," Han said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his
voice. They'd spent the better part of an hour waiting to depart
while a mechanic tried to disconnect the Falcon from the freighter,
some kind of ruptured sealant hose. Han resisted the urge to punch it
and eased easily out of the main fleet to rendezvous with the "orphan
fleet" as it had been nicknamed. Leia took a seat in one of the nav
computer chairs while they closed in. Han had to admit that he was
rather impressed. The Alliance had committed a full eight squadrons
of fighters, a dozen Corvettes, nineteen transports, eight freighters,
and even two Star Cruisers to this mission. He saw X-wings, A-wings,
B-wings, even a squadron of the older Y-wings, all prepared for the
journey where there be dragons, Borg-shaped dragons, anyway.
"Riekken's not using any half-measures, huh?" Han remarked to Leia.
A Trilon Aggressor slipped over to the Falcon's port. "Here I
thought you were having second thoughts," Lando chided him over the
comm.
Han scowled at the comm. "There was a little mechanical
trouble, not a big deal."
Lando's laugh could be heard over the comm. "Han, did you
crash into a mirror warehouse? Your luck is downright abysmal."
Han ignored him and made some course corrections. He turned
as he felt Leia tap his shoulder. She was holding up a small pair of
dice on a string. "I found these in a maintenance locker," she said
as she handed them to Han. "I guess one of the engineers took them
down when he was repairing something on Yavin and forgot to put them
back."
Han looked at them for a moment and then gave Leia a lopsided
grin. He turned and fastened them to their old place above the
$#@!pit viewport, then keyed the comm. "I have a feeling my luck is
about to get a whole lot better," he said looking towards Leia, who
smiled at him.
"I hope so," Lando replied, "cause you still owe me three
hundred credits." There was silence for a few moments. "Be careful,
these Borg sound pretty nasty."
"Hey," Han said, trying to raise the mood, "it's me." And on
General Riekken's signal, the fleet slipped off into hyperspace.

Picard finished looking over the communication from the
Imperials as the turbolift pulled to a halt. The words took his
breath away. He realized he was still standing there and stepped out.
"What's the status of our defenses, Number One?" he asked, trying to
keep his mind focused in a productive direction.
Riker broke off his conversation with Lt. Travis. "We've
programmed a random series of modulations into the shields which
should be somewhat resistant to the Borg. All torpedo bays have been
prepped for a full confrontation, we've run a level three diagnostic
on all weapons systems. Mr. LaForge has made some modifications which
will increase warp core output by eleven percent, but we'll have to
double our maintenance checks and need to power down in a few days to
do some stress repairs, but every watt will help." Picard nodded.
"Lt. Travis and I were also discussing the possibility of using the
shuttlecrafts to fly close to the cube and transport explosives onto
key parts of the Borg cube."
"There are no key parts," Picard said, "no weak spots to
exploit." He sighed slightly. "People call the Borg a hive, but they
are more like a hydra, cut off one head, and there's another waiting
for you." He stood in silence for a moment. "Perhaps resistance
really is futile," he said under his breath.
Riker stood quietly for some time. Finally he spoke.
"Captain, I'd like to discuss something in your ready room."
As the door closed Picard spoke to Riker. "So, tell me what
is so important?"
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
"If this is about the Empire, Will, this is a bad ti-"
"It's not about the Empire, sir, it's about you." Riker
hesitated. "Captain, you've just so much admitted that we can't
defeat the Borg. Right now, on that bridge."
Picard slowly eased into his chair. "Your point?" he asked
coolly.
Riker stood in stunned silence. "All I know is that the
Captain Picard I trained under never shared his doubts with the crew,"
Riker said, leaning forward on the table. "The Captain Picard I know
would never consider that his crew would fail."
"I'm not saying this crew will fail," Picard said much louder
than necessary. He quickly shifted his view away from Riker. "But
what is the point, Will? Even if we do defeat them, what then? They
will come again, and again, and again, and eventually they will wear
us down and we will lose." He sighed. "I'm sorry. The report from
the Empire indicates the Borg have eighty-seven cubes here. I think
of that, and then I reflect on my conversation with Seven, about how
with hyperdrive the Borg are now living on our doorstep... it's opened
my eyes to just how dangerous the situation is. We've been living on
borrowed time, Will, and we went about our business as if we would
always outsmart the Borg, always know just what to do. We've been
lucky, twice, and yet we act as if our victory is assured."
"We have prepared ourselves, Jean-luc, as best as we possibly
can," Riker said.
"Did we?"
"And be true to what we are?" Will asked. "Absolutely, sir.
If we'd let panic influence our judgment, we'd have stopped being the
Federation and started being the Dominion."
Picard nodded. "That's why you have a problem with our
mission... with the Empire."
Riker paused. "It's not just that," he said. "These
transmissions we've received, word of the rebellion, I'm not sure
we're on the right side here, sir."
Picard folded his hands and leaned towards him. "I've heard
some of those transmissions. I'll admit that some are disturbing.
There's this one here," Picard pulled out a PADD, "yes, a report of
warships bombarding a defenseless settlement to try and placate the
entire region. The order came all the way from the top."
"As I said, sir, there's reason for concern."
"Oh, wait," Picard said, "I'm mistaken. This is a broadcast
made by the Maquis three years ago about the Federation." He flicked
his eyes up at Will. "Did we, in fact, bombard defenseless Maquis
settlements?"
"Sir, I just-"
"I understand, Will," Picard said, "and I do take this very
seriously. But I think we have to look at the situation objectively.
So far all our involvements with the Empire have shown that they are
reasonable beings. They've made no gestures of hostility towards us,
and we both know that with their speed and firepower they could
overwhelm the Federation almost as quickly as the Borg can."
"Why bother, when they can acquire the Federation without
firing a shot?" Riker held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I
know I wasn't the biggest fan of the Empire before, but these
transmissions concern me. First it was the Republic, now it's the
Empire. That doesn't strike me as being an improvement."
"Come on, Will," Picard said. "You know that between the
British Empire and the People's Republic of China, it was the empire
that was the more free and tolerant civilization. They're just words,
Will."
"And the rebellion?" Riker asked.
"The rebellion," Picard said sharply, "is by definition not
our problem. The prime directive is crystal clear on that. We cannot
involve ourselves in the internal affairs of the Empire, and that
includes their rebel forces. Now I promise you that when this is
settled we'll look hard at the situation, but right now we have the
deadliest Borg fleet ever assembled within spitting distance of us,
and I'd rather focus our energies on our enemy rather than our ally,
thank you. That will be all."
Riker's frustration was obvious, but he nodded and showed
himself out. Picard turned back to his report, then shook his head
again. Eighty-seven... if every power in the alpha quadrant united,
could they stop even a tenth of that number? Love them or hate them,
Will, he thought, we need the Empire in the frightening place the
galaxy had become.

Delric Taar had spent most of his time since his rescue being
debriefed, but thankfully he'd finally had a chance to clean up and
get some real sleep. It had done wonders for his constitution, and
he'd needed it. The grand admiral wanted Taar to fully update the
squadron commanders on the fighter tactics employed against the Borg,
and where they did and didn't work, and that had required a lot of
thought and energy, but his brush with death, and his thought of all
the dead or assimilated pilots, gave him more than adrenaline ever
could hope to accomplish.
Taar entered Thrawn's office; it was dark, and for a moment he
was worried he was disturbing something. Thrawn turned away from the
glow of a hologram and looked at him. "Yes, lieutenant?"
With proper military steps, Taar marched into the room and
held out the datapad. "The captain ordered me to present the fighter
reports to you personally, sir," he said. Thrawn reached out and took
the datapad; Taar stood at parade rest while he looked through it.
Thrawn's alien features looked even odder in the low light provided by
the hologram, but Taar had heard enough from the other officers to
know not to let that affect his thinking. Thrawn was top of the line,
or he wouldn't be here.
"Are we ready to launch an attack?" Thrawn asked, not looking
up from the datapad.
Taar hesitated. "The commanders have been briefed, but they
haven't had enough time to run battle simulations with their men, and
many of the tactics are still only theoretical."
Thrawn continued reading the datapad, apparently not
listening. "It's the area of space where we'll be launching our
attack in two days," he remarked. How had he known Taar was looking
it over out of the corner of his eye when he wasn't even looking?
"I've been positioning our fleet for an attack on the Borg there."
Thrawn smiled. "How does it look?"
Taar was silent for several moments. "Are you asking me my
opinion, sir?"
"Do you not understand what a question is, lieutenant?" Thrawn
replied.
Delric, you idiot! he thought. You say "it looks very good,
sir," and nod when told to. But he had the horrible habit of thinking
and not keeping his mouth shut when confronted with a bad idea. Well,
you're in this deep, stupid, might as well speak your mind. The worst
Thrawn could do was put you on the front line in the next battle.
"Well sir," he began, "it seems from this model that the attack is
rather two-dimensional in nature, when it would be more effective if
we made a sizeable attack along vectors here and here," he pointed at
various parts of the hologram. "Also, the Dreadnaughts are in a
position to take heavier damage than if they were intermixed with the
star destroyers here. Of course, that's just my opinion sir."
Thrawn chuckled quietly. "Yes, and your opinion is quite
correct, too... except for the part about the fleet coming from here,"
he paused, "clearly this would be the better approach vector
considering the motion of the fleet."
Taar hesitated; well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
"Actually, sir, wouldn't we run a greater risk of hitting our own
ships with friendly fire?"
Thrawn clapped his hands slightly. "Well done. You've
demonstrated a rather keen grasp of ...."
The comm buzzed and a voice sounded. "Admiral, Captain Picard
wishes to speak to you, he claims it's urgent."
Thrawn sighed. "Very well." The image of the space battle
flattened into a two dimensional image of the Enterprise bridge and
Captain Picard.
"Admiral Thrawn," Picard said, "our long range sensors have
detected a group of ships entering the Napuli System. We've
identified some Nebulon Frigates, but the rest are unfamiliar to us."
Taar looked at Thrawn with some surprise. "The rebels..." he
muttered.
Thrawn ignored him. "I'm aware of the ships, captain. You do
realize that we have sensors of our own."
"Of course," Picard replied, "but I was concerned that they
may need some assistance. That is the heart of Borg space in this
galaxy..."
Thrawn shook his head. "It's too soon. Everyone has been
warned to stay away; if the Borg catch them, then that's the price the
pay for underestimating them."
"I understand, admiral," Picard said, but he obviously wasn't
very happy about it. "Enterprise out."
Thrawn sighed again as the image disappeared. "One thing
you'll learn dealing with the Federation," he commented to Taar, "is
that they want to solve every problem in the universe, and they want
to do it right now. They're a society of idealistic children." Taar
said nothing; he'd had pretty much no experience with the Federation
and frankly could care less. The Borg were the only thing on his mind
lately. "I need someone with experience to have the pilots trained
and ready to fight the Borg in two days. Are you up to the task?"
Taar brought himself to full attention. "Absolutely. They'll
be ready, sir."
Thrawn replaced the hologram with an image of some type of
statue. "Very good, major. I suggest you get started immediately."
Taar saluted and walked out. A promotion and a chance for
vengeance on the Borg. This was his lucky day.

This is not my lucky day, thought Han.
The fleet had dropped out of hyperspace right on course, a
short distance from the wormhole. Unfortunately, so was a Borg cube.
"All fighters," came the orders from the Liberty, Riekken's flagship,
"provide cover for the transports." The rest was cut off by Leia and
Threepio as Han put the Falcon into a series of crazy maneuvers while
Borg weapons tried to catch them.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is
futile."
"Confident bunch, aren't they," Han grunted putting the ship
through several evasive maneuvers.
"We're doomed!" Threepio moaned from the other navigator
chair.
"Don't start!" Han warned. He yanked the Falcon into another
tight turn as a nearby X-Wing was caught in a tractor beam, slowly
pulled towards the cube.
"We've just got to keep them distracted for another minute,"
Leia said.
"Yeah, well, a lot can happen to us in a minute," Han said
with a nervous edge in his voice as he turned some knobs above him.
The Falcon's lasers fired, but they stopped short of the cube. "Or
very very little," he said, jerking away as a Borg weapon struck a
nearby B-Wing. The Liberty was also running cover now, firing its
heavy guns at the cube, but it couldn't stay for long. It could beat
one cube without breaking a sweat, but every minute wasted trying to
engage it was another that allowed some of his friends to get closer.
Chewie suddenly growled something at Han. "What? Where?" Han asked
frantically. Chewie pointed and the Falcon came around, and Leia saw
the Trillon Agressor caught in the Borg tractor beam.

Luke, Lando's in trouble. Luke didn't hear it, but he heard
her words in his mind.
I'm on my way. "Hang on, Artoo," he sound out loud as pushed
the X-Wing to full throttle. He closed in, but Han was already there,
and two quick concussion missiles vaporized the tractor emitter. Luke
adjusted his course slightly and fired a few shots on the surface for
all the good it did. But the closer he got, the nagging sensation he
had was growing worse and worse, and he realized that what he'd
thought was worry was actually the sensation of the Borg. They felt
completely wrong. Each was unique, and yet each thought and acted as
one. It was like the optical illusion that could be a young woman or
an old hag depending on how you looked at it, and it was making his
head hurt.
The cube shook under a particularly devastating attack from
the star cruiser, and for a moment the many thoughts pulled together.
With so many thinking the same thing, it would have been impossible
for Luke not to pick up on it. "This is Commander Skywalker," Luke
said. "All available fighters, form up on me, Attack Pattern Delta."
The ships pulled away and formed a line behind Luke like a string of
pearls. Luke led the way around in a wide arc. "Arm your proton
torpedoes," he ordered. Got that, Leia?

Yeah, I got it. "Han, there's a weak spot in their defenses,"
Leia said. "Follow Luke in and fire your missiles."
Han's hands were flying over the controls. "How can you
possibly know that?" he asked. He saw Leia shift uncomfortably in her
seat. "Forget I said anything," he said, altering course. "I hope
you've got a good feeling about this." Luke's X-wing swooped in
first, firing his torpedoes and pulling up so the one behind him could
do the same. One pair wasn't enough to penetrate, but the endless
barrage opened the path for the ones near the back -including the
Falcon's missiles- to get through. They slammed into the opening in
the cube, and instantly explosions ripped through various parts of the
ship. Han looked stunned for a second as pulled up, then grinned.
"See, I told you," he said to Chewie, "no problems." Chewie barked a
reply. "So, who's the lucky one now, hey Lando?"
"Me," Lando replied, "lucky that you showed up. Thanks."
Han brought the Falcon around and headed towards the wormhole
with the rest of the fleet. "Let's hope we don't have to try this
again real soon, okay?" And with that, the orphan fleet left the
galaxy behind.


[End Act 1]

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Jesus, Obama wasn't even president then. 

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37 minutes ago, mchookem said:

jfc that's as bad as my new maga friend, unemployed and just diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, being grateful for Trump bc RFK will open up' the alternative treatments the med world is hiding and also thank god for Medicaid paying for everything so far! 

Please tell me you led her directly into a socialism is the debil tirade.

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45 minutes ago, mchookem said:

jfc that's as bad as my new maga friend, unemployed and just diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, being grateful for Trump bc RFK will open up' the alternative treatments the med world is hiding and also thank god for Medicaid paying for everything so far! 

 

6 minutes ago, CooterBrown said:

Please tell me you led her directly into a socialism is the debil tirade.

Yeah. You should ask her what she's going to think if Trump is succesful in repealing medicare.

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New Joisey restaurant faces backlash for having "Proud Boys Burger" on the menu last week: https://patch.com/new-jersey/tomsriver/proud-boys-burger-sparks-backlash-toms-river-restaurant

Quote

TOMS RIVER, NJ — A Toms River restaurant has fired one of its staff members in the wake of backlash from the addition of a burger that supported the Proud Boys, one of the prominent groups convicted for their part in inciting the Jan. 6 Capitol riots.

The Proud Boys Burger was added to the Aqua Blu menu on Thursday, for the weekly "burger night" specials. The menu, shared on social media, described it as having "white American cheese, onion ring layers of truth, resilience pickles, freedom fries, cancel culture coleslaw and liberty sauce."

The burger was announced days after President Donald Trump issued pardons for all of those convicted in the Jan. 6 riots, and granted clemency to Enrique Tarrio, the Proud Boys leader who was serving a federal prison sentence for his role in the riots. The Proud Boys are a right-wing extremist group with a history of violence and promoting a range of hate ideologies including antisemitism and white supremacy, according to the Anti-Defamation League.

The response was swift, with outrage spreading quickly. By Friday morning, the restaurant had issued an apology on its Facebook page, calling the burger name "a mistake."

"At Aqua Blu, we stand united against hate. We want to address and clarify that our post and burger name from yesterday was a mistake, and we sincerely apologize," the post read. "We understand how it may have been interpreted, but it was never our intention nor what we stand for. We ask that you take this into consideration as we reflect and learn from this experience."

The post went on to thank the restaurant's customers, saying, "we deeply appreciate every single one of you. Please know that we would never do anything to jeopardize the trust and respect you have for Aqua Blu. We hope you understand and accept this as a formal apology."

Owner Cathy Varriale told NJ.com that the burger was created by one of the restaurant's staff members, to honor a staff member's husband who had just returned from deployment, and was part of the restaurant's weekly themed burger night. The staff member's husband has no connection to the Proud Boys, the report said.

"It was a bad decision. It was stupidity. It was ignorance. But we do not support hatred or Nazism or any of that," she told NJ.com, saying she did not know what the Proud Boys reference meant.

Over the weekend, the outrage spread farther and by Saturday night, the restaurant announced it had fired the staff member who created the burger description.

"We are a longstanding family-run business with deep ties to the community and want to make it very clear that we and our establishment do not support any hate groups, nor do we condone hate speech in any form," Aqua Blu wrote on its Facebook page in a follow-up post. "We take these matters extremely seriously and have taken decisive action. The individual responsible for creating and distributing the offensive menu item in our restaurant has been terminated."

Not all of the response to the burger has been negative, however. Comments on a number of public social media posts have included a number of people saying they will start patronizing the restaurant in response to the anger the burger name created.

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7 minutes ago, mchookem said:

Selena Gomez has put a ton of her money and fame into a lot of humanitarian and philanthropic causes, including mental health and undocumented immigration issues...she was actually an EP for a Netflix series on the latter issue. 

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt10977486/?ref_=ext_shr

she is as powerless to stop the onslaught as the rest of us at this point despite having like a top three social media following in the world. 

But don't you get it? Their pain and tears are funny. Right @cabowabo?

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