Dawn of Forever, Part XV

General Taar's flagship hung over B'vun II while the pacification was completed. He'd come here personally for the same reason the Jedi had, to deal with the yammosk, the Vong war coordinator. It was on that ship that Shaote Lu was being lowered into a Bacta tank to recover from a brutal confrontation with the Vong. Three of his Jedi companions had accompanied him, including Anakin Solo. Now that the young apprentice was being tended to, Anakin slipped away to confront the general himself. As expected, he was in the war room, one eye on the closing steps on B'vun, the other on the campaign against the Vong. "Pass that tactical data along to the Alliance," Taar told his subordinate. "Borda could probably stage some very effective raids."

"General," Anakin said, just loud enough to get his attention without disrupting things.

Taar turned. "Ah, Mr. Jedi," he said, turning back to the campaign. "Good work down there."

"Thank you, general," Anakin said. "I'd like a word, if you please."

"I'm rather busy right now, Mr. Jedi." Taar hadn't even bothered to turn that time.

"General," Anakin said, slightly more forcefully. "Please?"

Taar sighed, offered a quick instruction, and stepped over. "What is it, Mr. Jedi?"

"General," Anakin said, "'Jedi' isn't my last name. Please don't call me that."

"What do you want?" Taar asked impatiently.

"I wanted to discuss the Empire with you," Anakin said.

Taar laughed just a little. "That's a rather large topic to delve into right now."

"We would like to see you pass Imperial control back to the senate," Anakin said.

"Ah," Taar said. "'We' being the Jedi?"

"Yes," Anakin said. "Although I'm sure we're not alone in this."

"No," Taar said, heading back towards the displays and holograms.

"General, you said you'd hand authority back when we've won."

"And I will," Taar said. "But it's too soon. The Vong still oppose us."

"Their back's broken, general," Anakin said. "The last yammosk has been killed, the war is over."

"Do we know that?"

"The Borg pulled that data from the minds of several Vong prisoners," Anakin said. "You know it has to be accurate."

"There's no sense in taking chances," Taar said. "We'll prosecute this war to the end, then we'll know we've won."

"I understand, but the Vong have been crushed, general. Without the war coordinator, it's just going to be mop up. We both know this."

"Then let me mop up, Jedi," Taar said.

"General-"

"The Vong could still win if we mismanage things," Taar said.

"We could still lose even if we crush them, general," Anakin said. "Maybe not by the Vong, but from what we've done to ourselves. We need to let the Empire run itself again."

Taar stepped over, not even bothering to hide his anger, but when he spoke it was in a whisper. "What do you want me to do, Jedi? Hand the galaxy over to the Vong? Because that's exactly what would happen if we try reconvening the Senate."

"You have to trust in the people, general," Anakin said.

"I do, to an extent," Taar said. "But people are panicked, and you and I both know that when any sentient being panics it ceases being an intelligent being and becomes an animal." Anakin was about to reply, but Taar's whisper took on a more urgent tone. "You look at the holonet reports, Jedi? Piracy is at an all time high, core worlds are being raided like this was the damn delta quadrant! There are riots on Corellia, Malastare, Nar Shadaa, people are talking about seceding from the Empire, and you want me to let these people run things?"

"It's what the Emperor believed in," Anakin said.

"The Emperor believed in a lot of strange things in those last days," Taar remarked. "Ever since Bastion fell, really. But he wouldn't have let this motley crew run themselves now, not when the enemy still has breath to resist us. Your mother wouldn't have either."

"That's a cheap shot," Anakin said darkly.

"She's the one who dissolved the senate," Taar pointed out. "When things become desperate, you have to be ready to do unpleasant things."

"Ends justifying the means, general? I thought you were better than that."

"The end is stopping genocide," Taar said. "We cannot afford to kriff around with the Vong when the stakes are this high! That's exactly what got us into this situation in the first place."

"What got us into this was that no one listened when the warning about the Vong came," Anakin said.

"No one in the senate," Taar said. "Thanks for making my point for me. We had the resources of two galaxies to call upon in this. Have you any idea what we could have done if we'd only had the will to use it? We played games, Jedi, and we gave the Vong a beachhead, and now what should have been a minor incursion has become our mortal enemy. I have been reduced to negotiating with every kind of scum in the universe to try to clean up the mess this grand experiment has gotten us into. We have the advantage, finally, and I will not back off, I will not play games, I will not hesitate to use every last bit of authority vested in me to drive the Vong into their graves, and if that means the people of the galaxy will despise me for the rest of their lives, I will take great comfort in knowing it will be a long and healthy hate."

Anakin nodded a little, not looking Taar in the face. His voice took on the same whisper. "The Jedi rose up to topple the Empire once, general," he said coldly. "Maybe that was why the Emperor brought them back? To serve as a check against the authority of the Empire?"

Taar didn't show his surprise but Anakin could sense it all the same. "Is that a threat, Jedi?"

"An observation," Anakin said. "Since the Empire brought the Jedi back, we have worked with the Empire. It's our job to protect it... even from itself."

"Dispensing your wisdom to us from up on high," Taar said with contempt. "I saw the old Jedi temple before the Borg blew up Coruscant. There's a reason the building was capped with an ivory tower. Going out, picking and choosing who would join and who would not, what battles to fight and what to sit out. Don't let the old romanticism fool you. You're a country club who won't truck with those who aren't your kind of people."

"Look, general," Anakin said, "we both know what this is really about. You're not going to finish the Vong off and head into retirement. You're going back to the Milky Way, aren't you. You're going to relive the glory days."

"Good men died," Taar said sharply. "They weren't 'glory days.'"

"Whatever. You're not going to honor the agreement. Everybody knows it. This was just a stop-gap measure so you could fight this war on one front. You'll head after the independent worlds before the last Vong body cools."

"I swore to preserve the Empire," Taar said. "That's what I'll do." Anakin opened his mouth to reply but Taar held up his hand. "Get out of my war room, Mr. Solo. Get out and let me do my job."

The room had become silent, save for the beeping of various instruments around the room. Anakin turned, looked at each other person in turn, then showed himself out.

Sebastian awoke to a symphony of noise. Bells were ringing, chimes were going off, sirens roared, buzzers buzzed, hyperactive dingers dinged, something was going "whoopwhoopwhoopwhoop," and underneath it all was some noise that implied the cube was backing up. Sebastian dropped off the bed to the floor and jumped to his feet, lightsaber at the ready as he looked about.

"The time is now 0700," the Borg announced.

Sebastian stood there in his underwear a while before he turned off the lightsaber. "That's a hell of a wake up call," he muttered. The bed was sucked into the floor to avoid wasting valuable space on a ship with roughly the same area as Haiti. Clothing appeared on the table next to him, freshly replicated. Sebastian sat down on the chair next to it and dressed. "Next time," he said, "less of a cacophony, please." He lifted the shirt off, and breakfast appeared on the now empty table. French toast, just like mother used to make, and pulled precisely from the records of all her memories. It was a little sad, but Sebastian ate them because they were a small bit of his real home in this new one he'd fashioned.

"What's the situation?" he asked as he plowed through the stack.

"Our current velocity is Warp 17.216," the Borg said. "Estimated time of interception with navigation coordinates in 27.14 minutes. Hull integrity 100%. Ship functions occurring at-"

"Stop!" Sebastian said, dropping the fork onto the plate. "This isn't going to work." He'd spent all his time since his separation interacting with the Borg Queen directly. This far away she had to speak to him using the voice of the Collective. And that was the problem, the voice was too much. Admittedly it had been fun for a little while; Sebastian would instruct them to speak tongue-twisters just to let the absurdity pass the time. But the novelty wore off fast; now it was starting to get to him. He was an individual among Borg... Borg who think as one, who communicate without words, and when they do speak, speak with only one voice. They looked humanoid, but they acted like pieces of a machine, which of course they were, but that they were nothing more than those pieces. They had a purpose, a function, and that was all that mattered. Humanoid issues were of no concern. They took care of Sebastian, but they didn't actually care for him, didn't actually feel anything. He was one more task, nothing more.

There were 37.2 million drones on this ship, and Sebastian felt horribly alone.

"I need to talk to an individual," Sebastian said.

"Who do you need to speak with?" the Borg asked.

"I mean that I need to speak to an individual Borg."

"We are Borg, there are no individuals."

"Right, right," Sebastian said as he rubbed his face with one hand. "It's gonna be a long day. I need to speak with a single drone."

"You wish to communicate with us through a representative."

"Exactly," Sebastian said.

A drone walked in; Vulcan female, roughly 1.6 meters tall. She turned to Sebastian. "I speak for the Borg," she explained.

Sebastian wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Designation?"

"Two of Six," she replied.

"Female," Sebastian remarked. "Because of my previous interactions with the Borg Queen?"

"Yes. And because of your mother. My biological distinctiveness has been calculated to be familiar enough to provide comfort without being similar enough to influence undue emotion."

"Well," Sebastian said, not quite sure how to respond. "Thank you."

"Thanks are unnecessary; I am here to optimize your efficiency."

"Now you sound like my mother," he said under his voice.

"On the contrary, Seven of Nine's voice operated at a frequency-"

"Never mind," Sebastian said, tossing the napkin on the empty plate; both vanished. "Do you remember when our minds were one?"

"The Collective has a full record of the time you were connected with us."

"Do you, personally, remember?" Sebastian asked.

"You are misunderstanding, Sebastian," Two of Six said. "I am using the personal pronouns to facilitate our communication. You must remember the experience of being one of us."

"Yes," Sebastian said. There was no mistaking the sound in his voice. He doubted anyone out there could understand how he could feel that way. "Better dead than Borg" was a long-standing policy that many who opposed them had adopted. The closest he could ever come to explaining this to anyone would be the same difference between sex and rape. Those forced into the Collective could never forget, or forgive, the violation. Those who joined voluntarily could never forget the peace, the certainty, the unity. It was such a temptation at times, when Sebastian was so very, very alone, when he felt that bare spot where Jorri should be sleeping, when he thought about the years he spent with his daughter that never actually happened...

"We should be approaching the coordinates soon, yes?" Sebastian asked, deciding to focus on work instead.

"We were," Two of Six said. "We're diverting course. Heading one-"

"Wait, why are we diverting course?" Sebastian asked.

"Long-range sensors detect bioship presence in that area."

"You mean we've found them?!"

"Possibly."

"Then let's get to work," Sebastian said, hooking on his lightsaber and grabbing his cloak.

"We are at work," Two of Six said. "We are always at work."

The only light was the one provided by Kilana's headlamp, which was low and tended to bob around as she moved, but the only view was of a pair of feet anyway. She continued her belly crawl; she wasn't claustrophobic, but this experience was making a good effort.

The foot in front of her dislodged some soil, kicking a couple handfuls worth of dirt right into her face. "Sorry," Han muttered, but his tone changed when he heard Kilana's coughing fit. "Stop that!" he said in as quiet a voice as he could manage.

"I-" she let out another spasm, "I can't help it."

"The Vong collapsed two tunnels already," Han reminded her sharply. "One when there were still people inside. Let's not go for number three."

"Why aren't these damn things shored up?" Kilana said in quiet frustration. "Dirt everywhere and no one let's you cough..."

"Because the sound of shoring up would bring the Vong down like a ton of soil, which is exactly what's going to happen if you don't quiet down. Now let's go."

"Try to be more careful," Kilana grumbled.

"You wanna push the damn box?" Han asked. There was a grunt as he got it moving again. Mini-repulsors kept it from sinking into the dirt floor and walls, but moving the thing forward required overcoming inertia, and it was damn heavy. He gave it another shove to try and keep it moving, then there was a thump as he hit wall. "I think we're here," he said.

"Finally."

Han moved his headlamp around until he saw the thread. He grabbed it and gave a yank. About half a minute passed, then there was the sound of furniture being moved and wood being pulled off. "[What's this?]" a Sullustan on the other side asked.

"Present from Borda," Han said, although his voice was low and tense. Accidents happened, and Han's luck came in extremes of good and bad. Someone on the other side grabbed the box and heaved it out. Three humanoids were present, pointing blaster rifles at him. "Can we come out," Han asked. "My partner's grousing about the dirt."

"What's happening?" Kilana demanded.

"Shut up, please," he said in a kind of sing-song voice.

The Sullustan, presumably the one who'd spoken before, nodded to the others and weapons were loaded. "[Mr. Solo,]" he said, extending a hand to help Han out of the tunnel. "[I'm Nellim, the contact for this cell. Your reputation precedes you... as does this crate of medical supplies, I hope.]"

Han dropped to the floor, then reached back and helped the dirty and angry Vorta out into the basement. "Not quite."

"Blasters?!" a human who had opened the case remarked. "We don't need weapons, we need medicine!"

"Trust me, you're gonna need these more," Han said.

"[What's happening?"] Nellim asked.

"The Alliance got intel from the Imperials," Han said. "The last yammosk is down, the Vong are re-aligning their forces to resist the Empire's advance."

"[They're pulling forces from here?]"

"They already have," Han said. "We need to get your people ready fast, Nellim, because we're taking this world back from the Vong."

Go To Part XVI
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