Dawn of Forever, Part VII

Civilizations rose and fell on a daily basis when taken on an average over a galaxy. Fifty thousand years ago, one such civilization fell. The world's name is now lost, except to a single group who, ironically, have no use for names. It wasn't a particularly noteworthy civilization; no more or less just than any other against the average of most worlds, although their achievements were in some ways greater than those of other worlds that failed to achieve space travel.

In fairness to the society, the failure to travel beyond their atmosphere wasn't due to scientific stupidity so much as a handicap. In fact, the inhabitants were capable of some quite amazing mental achievements, at least fifty percent anyway. The dominant species was born with a rather limited intelligence, nothing much beyond basic tool use. At the onset of puberty, hormones rushed through the body as they tend to throughout most advanced species, to promote changes and development. In the males, it promoted muscle growth. In the females, it promoted neurological growth. The result was an extreme disparity in strength and intelligence between the two genders, and while this might seem a recipe for an escalated battle of the sexes, it actually forced greater cooperation between them. The males lacked the brains to think beyond the next meal, and the females lacked the physical prowess to eat anything they couldn't pick up off the ground. Only in settlements where the males and females worked together did their species manage to thrive. The males did the hard work, and the females kept things properly coordinated. There was no caste system between them because the males were too stupid to organize one, and the females too smart to antagonize someone that could kill them with one hand.

But if the females were so intelligent, then why did they never learn how to leave their planet? Unfortunately, their forgotten world held little workable metal near the surface, and without ready amounts of copper, tin, iron, and zinc, there wasn't a great deal left for them to use. Stone, wood, shells were the materials they had to work with, and so the females of this world formed one of the most organized stone age societies in the galaxy. Of course, it wasn't perfect; they had their wars as much as anyone, there was corruption in expected amounts, but it wasn't really any more wicked than anyone else. Species are species.

Then the Borg came.

The females pooled their resources to coordinate a defense. The males fought hard, with 100-pound axes and bows that could put an arrow through a pine tree, but the Borg wanted them, and that meant that the resistance was, in the end, futile. The inhabitants became one with the Borg, and the next step in the Collective's evolution could begin.

The war with Species 01 had not only devastated the Borg's numbers, but also shown the futility of the single relay used to bring order to the chaos of so many minds. It was, upon further analysis, an Achille's Heel that in the wrong hands could be used to wipe out the Borg in one single attack... which is of course what had happened thousands of centuries after their homeworld was annihilated. The only alternative was to assign such tasks to individual drones for execution, but even the most intelligent specimens lacked the mental coordination it demanded, not to mention the great limitation in all Borg: the need to regenerate. With the coordination drone off line for even a few seconds, chaos would creep into the system, malfunctions would begin to occur, and total failure would eventually result. Multiple coordination drones were used, but this created extra overhead that put a severe limitation on the Borg's ability to function. For five hundred centuries, they did little in terms of exploration and expansion, but they continued to search for refinements to the process, so they could again move forward in the quest for perfection.

The newly-assimilated females were precisely what they needed. Their minds were perfectly-designed for organizing the high traffic the Borg Collective generated, and they were capable of retaining a degree of consciousness even while regenerating, which meant that the Borg could finally be coordinated by a single being. It was at that time that the new, expansionist era of the Borg truly began; they had all the strengths of the original relay without the weakness of it being turned against them, and if the "Queen" was somehow taken off line, others were available to resume operation without delay.

The last step was completed for these females. Their frail bodies were discarded; they were almost entirely mechanical now, giving them the physical strength they had never had before assimilation. But such a degree of automation requires constant maintenance to ensure peak efficiency, and the Borg demanded nothing less than peak efficiency. So, at this particular moment, in the present fifty thousand years after their assimilation, the Queen's head coordinated the recently reformed Collective while her body underwent maintenance.

Sebastian was observing the pursuit of the Mistryl ship when the grate on the floor next to him opened and a platform rose upon it. It looked like a pair of knee-high boots until close examination noticed half a knee sticking out of the top. Two robotic arms lowered a thigh onto each, then a panel on the back wall opened and the torso was pushed out and dropped into position. The robotic arms returned with real arms this time, attaching them to the body. Finally, the Queen's head, metallic spine twisting to ensure perfect alignment upon merger, was dropped into position and connected to the body. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose, running a diagnostic on it to ensure the body was functioning properly.

The Queen stepped closer to where Sebastian was, to observe directly. She didn't need to, but it helped keep efficiency high when she directly perceived events. "Your effectiveness is impaired," she informed Sebastian.

"The apprehension of the Mistryl -Korri Rej- must succeed," Sebastian answered.

"Your regeneration cycles have been interrupted repeatedly," the Queen observed. "It is interfering with your efficiency. Your inefficiency affects all."

"Agreed," Sebastian said, because there was no alternative. Their thoughts were one. "This form will regenerate, but it would be advisable if this one were present for the capture of the Mistryl."

"Yes," the Queen agreed. Sebastian turned and entered his nearby alcove, and the regeneration cycle began.

Sebastian opened his eyes and smiled at what he saw. Gently, he ran the back of his hand down Jorri's cheek while she slept; she didn't stir. He laid there; he couldn't imagine anything better than watching her peaceful slumber. She was here, she was safe, and in the only sense that counted, she was real.

Still, it was going to be a busy day, and lying around wasn't going to change that, so he pulled himself up, got dressed, and found his way into the kitchen. The droids were already hard at work on the food and drinks for the get together that afternoon. Family was going to be there, and some people from the Academy, a few friends... nothing too special, just a deviation from the norm. Sebastian glanced out the window; the weather service said it was supposed to rain, but Sebastian had a strong feeling the storm was going to show up after the party was long over. Somehow that's how things always worked.

A quick examination showed Morgan was gone; a note said she'd gone off for a morning swim. Sebastian sighed; as always it fell on him to make sure things were done properly. He went outside and started sweeping the leaves and fallen blossoms off the patio; there were only so many droids, and if the choice was trying to sweep and trying to stuff minced things into other things, Sebastian would Force push people out of the way to get to the broom. Tables and chairs were wiped down, the power source in the sonic insect repellant was duly examined, and the traps were filled on the chemical dispenser to lower the pollen and mold count for those guests who suffered from allergies. He nodded at what he felt was a job well done and stepped back inside. As expected, now that the real work was done, Jorri was up, and as expected, working on straightening up things around the house despite the fact the party would be held completely outside. Gone was the sleeping princess, replaced by Mega-decorator, horror across the cosmos to those with bad backs. Sebastian hid out in his meditation room to avoid the carnage.

The morning passed with the dull tone that always happens when you know you don't have the time to do anything because of what's coming up later, but later is so long from now that you're tempted to try. Eventually zero hour arrived and the guests started showing up. Morgan finally returned as well, accompanied by Ryan. Sebastian was pleased to see the two settle onto a bench on the perimeter of the patio, which gave them a nice view of the hills. It was good to see her involved with someone in a personal way for a change.

The droids were distributing snacks and drinks as Jorri came and sat down beside Sebastian. "It looks like the weather's going to hold," she remarked.

Sebastian smiled. "Yes, I think it will."

The sky was orange and black over the city of Bur Illia; the fires were nearly out by now, but the air still stank of heat and char. This wasn't the city itself, though; it was the outskirts, hastily constructed shelters. Everywhere was the sound of screaming.

The room is stacked wall to wall with bed's. Here are the radiation victims; despite the advanced medical technology their doses were beyond what could be treated. They wouldn't last much longer, but that was probably merciful. Many were covered head to toe in burns, and there wasn't going to be enough bacta to treat one percent of all those who cried out in agony. Others had been shielded from the worst of it, only to breathe in the choking mix of vaporized contaminants and toxins. They struggled weakly, fighting for each breath into their scarred lungs. Then there were rows and rows of lacerations and broken bones, soft tissue injuries and concussions, and those who would need to replace a hand or foot or eye.

And then, of course, there were the dead, housed in a makeshift morgue. It looked more like a warehouse, and what was horrifying was the pile of bodies outside the doors, because the building was full and the next one hadn't been put up yet.

Millions were dead, and millions more were going to die. For those who managed to pull through, the pain and horror would create scars beyond the reach of any surgeon. The burning remnants of Bur Illia would be abandoned and its survivors dispersed elsewhere across the world. The Empire would arrive with a full relief force within a few hours; they'd help mitigate the damage. The Emperor would give a speech de-crying the Mistryl for this latest act of terrorism, and pledging to bring an end to their assaults on innocent civilians. The people listened, and believed him, and to Korri Rej's shame, for once the Empire was right.

Rej woke up and saw the tunnel of hyperspace before her. She didn't have the dream very often any more, but it always left her shaken. Bur Illia had been four years ago; she'd been rather low-ranking among the Mistryl at the time. It had been a fluke, but somehow that word seemed wrong in describing that kind of tragedy.

There was an Imperial military base on the edge of Bur Illia, which was nothing unusual. The Mistryl always tried to perform surgical strikes in their war against the Empire, although collateral damage was often inevitable. The base at Bur Illia was an important junction point, with high security and strong defenses. Rej had teamed up with a slicer to breach that security, something that hadn't been managed before. Because of this, she was given the chance to plan and lead the raid on the base. As was usually the case, this was all about sabotage: destroy as much Imperial equipment as possible. Because of her intimacy with the base's security, Rej stayed in a cloaked ship to control things from there.

Rej had been the one who delayed the raid an hour while a ship was diverted to the base for refueling. It was important to the Empire, so smashing it would be good for the cause. She waited, then took control of the security system and used it against the Imperials. Her squad went in, working by the numbers as always. They hit the docking bay; there were more guards there then usual, but with Rej controlling the automated defenses, they were soon wiped out. It was the work of seconds to hook up the usual charges to all the ships, and bolted so Rej could remote detonate them. What they didn't know was that the cargo on board the ship was an experimental micro-hypermatter reactor. The explosion set it off.

The Imperial engineers weren't stupid; they'd designed the reactor with failsafes. When the reactor was breached the energy was projected into hyperspace, otherwise the whole planet would have gone up. Unfortunately, the work was only near perfect, not absolutely perfect. Less than a fraction of a percent of the explosion was released, but it was enough for a multi-megaton explosion. The base was instantly vaporized. The entire city was affected by the size of the blast. Rej only survived because she was in orbit over the planet at the time. None of the Mistryl blamed her for what happened; there'd been no indication of what was on board, so the affair was dismissed as a tragic accident. Rej went on to rise through the ranks; her team, wiped out in the explosion, were listed among the casualties of war. She switched over from electronic infiltration to front-line work, though; she didn't want to watch things from a chair any more... she didn't want to sit back and listen as the women under her command died.

The ship dropped back into real space. A quick scan confirmed Rej's fear. "Borg cube," she said through her teeth. "They have to have a homing beacon, they have too!"

"We've swept the ship half a dozen times, Korri," Lian said. "The droids have checked everywhere-"

"They're not finding us by magic!" Rej snapped.

"Korri," Lian said as diplomatically as she could, "they've chased us across the galaxy. I don't think we're going to give them the slip. The Borg are too well coordinated-"

"I know, I know!" Rej snapped. She still hadn't taken control of the ship back from Lian yet, and for a moment the co-pilot wondered what was going through her head. Finally Rej switched on the navicomputer, except this time with a bit more concentration. "We're going to have to find a safe harbor," she said, mostly to herself. "Drellis... that sounds promising."

"Never heard of it," Lian said. "And what if the Borg figure out that's where we're going?"

"It won't matter," Rej said, taking the controls back. "I've got a plan; trust me on this. All my girls are making it home."

Go To Part VIII
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