Shadows of the Night, Part XIV

A Jedi has the power to submerge his being into the Force; it is known as the Force Meditation. Its purpose was to continue the search for wisdom, for one of the main pursuits of the Jedi was the expansion of knowledge. Given the difficult times that he and his allies faced, Luke found himself once more seeking this wisdom, and hopefully guidance through the difficult struggles that lay ahead.

But there was no way to know what form the visions would take, or how exactly to interpret them. The future, the past, vast distances, his own experiences, they all wrapped together, sometimes leaving him with more questions than he'd started with. "Luke," the towering figure in black called to him. "You do not yet realize your importance." Luke continued his crawl, trying to ignore the words of this man, this monster. It was difficult, with only one hand to brace him as he continued. "With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy."

Luke turned and sneered at the figure of evil. "I'll never join you!"

"You know the power of the Dark side!" Vader said, advancing on him. He swung at Luke, but somehow he managed to catch the limb with his remaining hand, unquivering despite the Dark Lord's struggles. He pushed back, snapping it like a dry twig, a grunt of pain issuing from Vader. Luke grinned, and Vader was thrown backwards onto the catwalk that had brought them here, the force so great the damage arm ripped from its limb. Luke fastened it to his stump and flexed it. It felt good; the power...

No. This wasn't right. He stepped onto the catwalk and suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, causing him to whirl around in surprise. Captain Riker held a phaser rifle upward in his right hand, several Federation security guards just beyond. "I'm getting a reading in this direction," Riker said. "You sense anything?"

Luke concentrated. "Yes, that way. I'm sure of it." His lightsaber was out and the group charged down the corridor, his senses alert for any Borg who might try to attack them. Not now, he thought, we're too close. We can't give in, the heart of the ship, it's nearer, it's...

He turned the corner and looked up at the figure interwoven into the tubules and wirings of the cube. The cackling voice, the sinister grin, the aura of evil. "No," Luke said in disbelief, "No you died on the Death Star."

The Emperor chuckled. "I command powers far beyond your comprehension, Skywalker!" Immediately an army of drones came, thousands of them... Luke could feel them all advancing, unrelenting, unstoppable...

"Luke!" Seven cried to him over the sound of the advancing footsteps. "Please Luke! It can't end like this!"

Luke cut his way through the floor, a temporary reprieve from the advancing drone army. As he disappeared through the opening he heard the Emperor's cry. "You cannot escape, Skywalker! You will be assimilated! It is your destiny!"

There was darkness as he fell, and a sudden impact, and a single circle of light lit the blackness that surrounded him. He turned and saw Seven, locked in place to the floor. Her legs were stiff metal, and he watched with horror as a transformation crawled up her body, flesh changing as it went. She wasn't alarmed, but he could see her sorrow in her eyes. "You can do it," she said quietly. "I know you can save me."

"What can I do?" he asked quickly, watching the horrible metamorphosis continue up her torso. "Tell me!"

"You'll know," she said, looking deep into his eyes. "When the time comes, when I need you, you'll know." He watched impotently as her arms now began the change, and still there was no fear, but a few tears ran down her face. "It's not over," she said to him. "Please, Luke... promise you won't give up on me."

Luke was shaken as his own tears began to emerge. "I won't. I promise."

Seven smiled just a little. "I believe you." He watched as it came up her neck and over the top of her scalp at the same time, leaving only her face. "I'll be waiting for you..." and her ruby lips froze in silver, the last of her to be lost. He held on to the cold shape, his face pressed against what had once been the side of her face, his grief unbearable.

"Luke," Leia's voice called through the darkness. "I need you to return to us."

There were no tears in his real eyes as they opened, a kind of relief at knowing that what he had witnessed wasn't real. Unfortunately, it wasn't a dream, it was a manifestation of something, and it could not be dismissed. Nevertheless, he found great comfort in reality. "Sorry I had to call you back," Leia said as he stood up. "There's something we need to discuss urgently."

"It's - fine," he replied. "What's on your mind?"

"I've got something I need you to do for me," she said as they sat down in his quarters. His time on Vulcan had left an impression, and his quarters were rather stoic, but furniture was a necessity of life. "Jean-luc is working on something for us, and I think he can use your help."

"What exactly is he working on?"

"Let's just say it involves the Borg," Leia replied, leaning back on the couch. "We've got quite a mess with them, and we think we might have a way of getting to the Collective, but no one has been able to learn about them better than you."

"I'd love to help," Luke replied, "But I'm neither a technician nor a commander. I'm sure there are others better qualified than I."

"I don't think so," Leia replied. "You've given us a lot of insight into the Borg of late, and Jean-luc thinks you can be a great asset for us."

"What would I need to do?"

"I can't really discuss it here," Leia replied. "This is very, very secret. You know the Borg; anyone learning of this gets caught and they'll know everything."

"Yes," Luke said quietly as he thought. It would give him something to focus on, a direction at least.

"He wants you to report to the Enterprise within the hour if you're interested," she replied. "They're leaving orbit soon and he can't delay the ship; some counterassault Starfleet's cooked up."

"Okay," Luke said. "I'll do what I can."

"You always do," she replied with a smile.

Col. Taar was just going over the latest performance reports on the simulation deck when Admiral Thrawn entered. Fortunately today was a day of good news, not that it mattered when dealing with Thrawn; he had the wisdom to know better than to blame the messenger. However, he did have a low tolerance for failure, and even Taar knew better than to push his luck.

"Colonel," the Admiral said evenly as he stepped up to the flat screen display standing vertically in the center of the table. "I wish to discuss your recent reports on TIE activity."

A knot tightening in his throat, Taar nevertheless turned to his subordinates. "Dismissed." After they had left Thrawn stepped around to look at the display, speaking as he moved. "You have, I assume, been analyzing the reports of our recent conflicts with the Borg, and the performance of our fighter support."

"Of course, Admiral," Taar replied, curious. Why would he want to discuss this?

Thrawn bent down to look closely at somthing on the display, and then straightened up, eyes still not leaving the screen. "Tell me, what do you think of their effectiveness?"

"You mean their efficiency?"

"No colonel, I mean how effective are they against the Borg as a whole."

Taar felt the lump again, but he had to be honest. "In my opinion, sir, our fighters have little impact on the battle as a whole. They do reduce damage to the vessels in certain ways, but quite simply the net result is not worth the presence of the ships." He was Thrawn's chosen expert on fighter tactics, especially tactics against the Borg. He was admitting that he wasn't doing his job, but he owed the Empire, and Thrawn, nothing less than the truth.

"Indeed," Thrawn replied. "Why have you not brought this to my attention?"

Taar remained steady; he was still an Imperial officer. "I was attempting to find a solution, sir. A way for the fighters to improve their performance."

"Why?"

"Because in the end, sir," Taar held his head high, "the fighters are my responsibility. If they fail it means I have failed."

Before the discussion could continue a lieutenant entered the room holding a datapad. "Admiral," he said at attention, "The report on the shipyards' progress."

Thrawn plucked the datapad out of his hands and examined it. "The ships are coming along quite nicely," he commented, "But what of the conscription? Ships are useless without a crew to command them?"

The lieutenant faltered for a moment. "Admiral Nemit reports that some of the worlds are unwilling to contribute further forces to the Imperial Navy."

Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "Inform the Admiral to be more... persuasive. It would be a shame if our ships were unable to respond to a Borg attack because we lacked the necessary manpower." The lieutenant scurried off as Thrawn placed the datapad on the table, and whether by chance or design Taar caught a glimpse.

"One hundered Star Destroyers near completion?" he said in disbelief. "Sir, isn't that a little excessive?"

"Not if we plan to take the battle to the Borg," Thrawn replied. "But leave that be for right now. We were discussing the fighters, and how they are unimportant in our war against the Borg."

Taar nodded. "Yes sir, and I take full responsibility for their performance."

"As well you should," Thrawn replied. "Their performance, despite their drawbacks, has been exemplary. You continue to display a great tactical mind, Delric Taar, I saw it when we first met before the Imperial War. I think the time has come to make better use of your talents."

"What do you mean?"

Thrawn picked up the datapad and slipped it into his pocket. "I want you to consider ground tactics," Thrawn replied. "I want you to focus your thinking on how we can better use our troops to lay siege against ground installations while limiting collateral damage if necessary. In short, I'm giving you an opportunity to rise up the ladders, to be the general in charge of all ground combat on the Vendetta. It's a difficult task, are you up for such a challenge?"

Taar was at attention. "Of course admiral."

"Then appoint your most able-bodied subordinate to take over fighter duties; we'll be phasing them out of Borg activities anyway. I want a demonstration of your tactical skills in six days." He turned and left with nothing more, leaving Taar to wonder at this new opportunity. He was a pilot by training and experience, but he had had many opportunities to develop his talents with battlefield tactics. Perhaps this was a chance to really leave a mark. And being involved in ground invasions... that gave him far more opportunities to get up close and personal with the Borg, a most relishing concept.

Picard was waiting as the others filed into the Enterprise's conference room. A funny feeling, he thought, although whether it was from being back here or from his new seat he couldn't say. Captain Riker took the head chair of course. Geordi, Seven, and Luke took various seats around the room. Picard waited for Riker to open the meeting.

"Alright," Riker began, "We've got sixteen hours 'til we rendezvous with the fleet. In the meantime, what exactly is going on here, Jean-luc?"

"Hopefully a way to deal with the Borg once and for all," Picard replied. "Commander," he said to Geordi, "you remember when the Borg called Hugh was brought on board?"

Laforge's eyes widened and he leaned forward a little. "Yes," he said, a distant sound to his voice. "I remember we found him at the crash site, tried to learn what we could about him."

"And you designed that program to destroy the Borg," Picard finished.

"That's right," Riker said, "But we never used it."

"A futile effort," Seven interjected. "The Borg would have detected the malfunction and cut off the ship from the remains of the Collective."

"Yes," Picard replied. "But we may have a new opportunity, a different one which may work. Mr. Barclay has come up with an idea which may allow us to connect with the Borg's subspace signals."

Luke stirred a little in his seat. "But, the Borg mind is too complex to listen in on or to try to decipher."

Picard smiled at him. "Yes, but it may give us an opportunity to upload a hostile program directly into their systems. It could cause untold damage to the Collective, possibly even destroying the Borg once and for all."

"Interesting idea," Seven remarked. "I'm uncertain as to whether or not we can succeed."

"Nevertheless we've got to try," Riker said. "This could definitely turn this war around, give us the fighting chance we need. Get to work immediately. In the meantime," he said getting up, "I'm afraid I've still got to deal with the Collective the old fashioned way."

Nawara Ven and Wedge Antilles were standing in dress uniform before the "committee" less than a day after what many were already calling "The Borg Incident." The Twi'lek knew why he was here; as the only witness to the destruction of planet J11-32 they would want to know everything he'd seen. The only problem was, there was precious little to tell.

"You say the ship fired at the planet and destroyed it in less than a second?" Fey'lya said with surprise. "Are you absolutely certain?"

"As certain as one can be given the circumstances," he replied. "I was a fair distance away, but my scanners showed the destruction of the planet was almost instantaneous."

"The readings from the ship show that they used a hypermatter reactor to power this vessel," Wedge commented.

"We should have expected this!" Quedlifu exclaimed. "I said that that evil device should never have been recreated, but no one would listen! Now we may have doomed ourselves!"

"Senator," Mon Mothma admonished, "please control yourself. Let us face the problem rather than assign blame."

"I assign no blame except with ourselves for our hubris!"

"Unfortunately," Fey'lya said, "I'm afraid he has a point. We should never have authorized further research on the reactor."

"Come now, how were we to know it would be stolen by the Borg and used against us?" Dx'ono replied. "It's very easy to see the risks now-"

"We should have seen the risks then," Fey'lya insisted. "How many died to destroy these weapons, and now one is in the hands of what could be our mostly deadly enemy ever."

"There is one thing that puzzles me," Ackbar said, a thoughtful look on the Mon Calamari's face. "Why did they attack J11-32? I fail to see any strategic value in such a move."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Quedlifu demanded.

"Everything," Ackbar replied quietly. "They've forced themselves into our galaxy, overwhelming our Milky Way defenses, and yet they've made no demands, no attempts at conquest or assimilation, nothing except the destruction of this world and the blockading of the wormhole. Why?"

"Because they're machines," Fey'lya replied. "Everyone knows they're tactically stupid."

"But they crushed our forces with ease," Ackbar replied. "Every stage of our defense was picked apart and destroyed. And I fear that ignoring this and underestimating the Borg would be a fatal mistake for the Republic."

"Then what do you suggest?" Mon Mothma asked.

Ackbar looked at her with obvious concern. "We must mobilize our defenses. Every ship, every soldier, every station needs to be ready and on alert. We need updates on Borg locations regularly, try to guess their plan before they launch it." He leaned forward. "And we need to return to the Milky Way, see whatever information they have that might help us understand all this."

"What possible reason should we have for taking such a terrible risk?" Fey'lya asked, his fur rippling.

"Because the Borg don't want us going there," Ackbar replied. "That's all the more reason why we should go, need to go."

"How do you propose to do this?" Mon Mothma asked. "As you said, the wormhole is heavily blockaded."

"I think I know what he has in mind, Madame President," Wedge said. "We can't fight our way past, but we can try to outrun them."

"We?" Dx'ono replied.

Wedge looked over at Nawara Ven, who nodded at him. "Rogue Squadron will go in Senator. We've the best chance of getting past the blockade. Our ships are small, quick, shielded, and they've got the best pilots in the galaxy."

"All the more reason for you to remain here," Fey'lya pointed out.

"Sir, one squadron of X-Wings isn't going to make a difference against a Cube, nevermind this... this Borg Star. But if we can get to our allies on the other side, maybe we can make a real difference in this war."

"You are aware of the risk," Ackbar said wearily. It was plain to see that he didn't relish the thought of risking these lives, but knew it was their best option. "Some of your people may be killed or assimilated."

"We're aware of the risks, sir," Wedge replied.

"Then you had better prepare your squadron, Commander Antilles," Mon Mothma replied. "And may the Force be with you."

The pyramid and its escort continued its journey through this ancient galaxy, uncaring of the concern their presence had generated thus far to the local inhabitants. It was time for the next stage of their plan to develop, to further their spread into this galaxy. They had no interest in conquering it, they merely wished to bring all of its beings and technology into their own selves, to improve the quality of life for this galaxy and move themselves closer to perfection. This time it would be different. Their brute force tactics had failed; it was time to try something more subtle.

Go To Part XV
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