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Lt. Louis finished checking over the numbers as the group of Federation troops stood by, anxiously wondering how they performed. "We shaved off six seconds that time," he said with approval. "And this time everyone made it through alive; congratulations Mr. Dane." There was a small chuckle at the crewman's expense. "We're going to call it quits for today, but before you leave I want a chance to introduce you to your new best friend. Computer, load Louis Three." The holodeck quickly reconfigured the scene to a grassy field with painted cotton-weave targets wrapped around straw bundles. A weapon materialized in the air and he grabbed hold of it.
"This," he said, holding it up for all to see, "Is a pump-action grade-2 slug thrower. Any 'a you who saw any ground combat during the Dominion War can vouch for me on this, but the sad fact is that the phaser rifle only gets you so far. With the use of energy absorbing armor and shields, the time has come to supplement your firepower when going into hostile territory." He pointed it at one of the targets, bracing the weapon up against his shoulder. There was a loud crack and the gun bucked up slightly, but one of the targets blew apart. He turned back to face them. "It's noisy, it's crude, and it'll kick you flat on your ass if you're not careful; but she'll shred even plastoid armor at close range."
"This," he said, pointing to a bar affixed the top of the gun, "houses your slugs. You get twenty shots before you have to replace it, so make sure they count." He pointed to a clip hanging off the bottom. "This is your power pack; it's gives the slug its punch. You can usually get fifty shots off with it." He held it up again for inspection. "This is a close quarters alternative weapon only," he insisted. "Don't try to go sniping someone with it unless you feel like making small holes in the ground. Use it if you're facing a nasty drone or an angry Klingon. Now, tomorrow you're going to be practice firing this, so take some time to go over the schematics, they're in the database. Dismissed."
Seven followed the group as they exited the holodeck, then walked briskly towards her quarters to clean up. Louis had pushed them pretty hard today, but with the risks involved, that was a necessity. It was rather unusual for her to have to follow the orders of a lieutenant, given her current rank, but since he was the expert in ground combat she was happy to follow his lead. Speaking of happy things, she was rather pleased by what she saw when she opened the door to her quarters. "Luke?" she said with surprise, which quickly turned to elation. It was safe to say that every day he was gone in the delta quadrant, the area current under siege by the Borg, had been difficult for her; this day was looking much better. She rushed to embrace him, but surprisingly, he stopped her. "Luke?" she said with worry. "What's wrong?"
You have to leave her.
Luke looked into her face. It was the most beautiful one in the universe as far as he was concerned, and right now he could see the nervousness, the worry, and it was because of him. "Train yourself to let go," the words chided him in memory. She was so full of fear and concern, and after all the days she'd had to endure during his absence, that was truly unfair of him. She hurts, Luke, he thought, and it's your fault. Are you going to stand there and let it happen? "So afraid to lose her..."
Luke wrapped his arms around her so tight it threatened to crush her. I don't care! he thought. Annika's all I want. Just let me keep her and I'll do anything, pay any price. "I love you, Seven," he said with emotion in his voice.
"Is he dead?" Seven asked. "Oh, he is... oh, I'm so sorry, sweetie."
"No," Luke said, ending the embrace. "No, he's alive. No, it's- I just needed to work some things out. Everything's going to be fine, Annika." He kissed her cheek and held her again. "I'll always keep you safe," he whispered.
Seven squeezed tight. "Damn it, you're making me cry you big silly." And then they elected to make up for lost time.
Victoria Price, former captain of the Federation Starship Overlord, stood outside the dwelling of Chancellor Martok. In the rain. It always seemed to be raining whenever she wanted to go somewhere on this miserable planet. Finally there was an answer at the door, and she was taken to him. Martok was different than the others, she thought. He wasn't a talker, he was a do-er, but he knew there was a time to fight and a time to think. If anyone would listen to her, she thought desperately, it's him.
"What do you want at this late hour, Victoria Price?" he asked in a gravelly tone, his one remaining eye affixed on her.
"You know me?" she asked with surprise.
"I knew your grandfather," he said. "Now answer the question. What do you want?"
Gruff and to the point, she thought; a Klingon all the way. "I have heard that the Klingons are withdrawing their support of the Alliance. They're cutting all military ties to the Federation, Republic and the Romulans."
"You do not approve," Martok replied.
"I believe that it would be best for all concerned if the alliance remained in place," she remarked.
"Very well then, your opinion is noted," Martok said simply.
"Chancellor," she replied, "I've come with more than my opinion." She stopped. She was going to say it; she had to say it. No matter how badly she'd been wronged by Starfleet, the fact was that she disliked war and destruction and death, and if she could help stop it, then that was her duty. Not as an officer, but as a person. "The Klingon people still demand an explanation for the attack on Ho'rras. The time has come to explain." She hesitated; this could mean her death. "I was responsible. I conceived the plan and participated in its execution," she winced inwardly at her choice of word. "The final responsibility falls on my shoulders. I acted without allegiance and orders, a fugitive from the Federation. No one else should be held accountable."
Martok sighed deeply. "I know," he said quietly.
Price was a little surprised. "You do?"
"Yes," he said. "I have known for some time now. And you do not deserve punishment, child. The attack was part of an engagement in war; there was no dishonor in what you did."
"Then why is the Alliance being divided," she asked.
"It is what the people want," Martok replied. "They do not like what the galaxy has become. They believe we are losing what makes us Klingon. Ho'rras is just an excuse."
"Chancellor," she said, a pleading tone in her voice, "In these desperate times, we need to stand together."
"I cannot give you what you ask," Martok insisted. He sighed. "Do you not think that I've had this same conversation with Worf? Were it within my power I would consider your request, but the High Council and the people don't want that; and I will not dishonor myself by abusing my authority."
"Even if lives are lost," Price shot back.
Martok leaned towards her. "Do you mean that? You believe that the ends do justify the means?"
"That's not the same thing, chancellor."
"I am bound by my conscience," Martok replied, "As you are to yours. I have made the position of the Klingon Empire clear; there is nothing more to say."
Price turned and stormed out, more frustrated at herself than Martok and the Klingon Empire. I should have stepped forward at the beginning, she thought miserably. Now it's too late, and the alpha quadrant may go up in smoke because of me. Of all the bad decisions she'd ever made, that was the worst of all.
Luke kissed the back of Annika's neck where they lay, so happy to have her back. "So, what have you been doing?" he asked. "That didn't look like the usual workout attire, though it seemed to kind of fly off in a blur."
"Oh, it's a secret," Seven said.
"It is?" Luke said. "Hmm... if only I knew what your greatest weakness was..."
"No, Luke, don't you dare," Seven said, then turned around. "Playing around is fine, but seriously, if you tickle secrets out of me, I can lose my commission."
"I'm just kidding, Seven," Luke said. "Being on the Enterprise doesn't leave me with much to do other than think of new ways to torment you."
"And you are quite a master," Seven said, then gave him a quick kiss. "Still, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to tell you this; after all, you know the details anyway, so if you were somehow assimilated the Borg would figure it out anyway, and that's the only reason for security. Remember waaay back when you were hanging out with that alien, Kalib? He took you to the Borg homeworld?"
"Yes," Luke said, uncertain as to where this was going, but pretty sure he wasn't going to like it when he got there.
"Remember there was that door he tried to get you to open? Well," she said, "Riker thinks I can open it."
"What? I thought it was going to be me?"
Seven smiled. "Hair like amber and eyes of blue." She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
"But Kalib said the person would be 'touched.'"
"Well, I am, in my own way." Seven held up her hand and her assimilation tubules popped out. "I can use these to penetrate the housing of the lock and use my nanoprobes to alter the command paths and activate the locking mechanism."
"Seven," Luke said. "I don't want to disappoint you, but that door is neutronium."
"It's a neutronium alloy," Seven said. "Not quite the same thing. Why else do you think it didn't sink into the core of the planet? Anyway, my tubules can penetrate any known energy field or alloy, and that includes the housing on the door."
"You're serious," Luke said.
"Absolutely," she replied. "We can use the equipment to re-establish the connection."
"What good will that do?"
"Remember the invasive program? The one we never got to actually use? I can tap into the Collective and insert that. Because of the way the relay works, it will affect the whole thing, the Borg will be shut down within minutes of receiving the program, and they won't be able to stop it. Get in, set it up, get out, and the nightmare is gone forever."
"Except for one small detail," Luke said. "You have no idea what's on the other side of that door. There can be a hundred thousand drones in there for all you know, you wouldn't stand a chance."
"We're preparing for any resistance we might encounter," Seven said. "Why do you think we're training so hard?"
"All that training won't matter once the Borg have adapted to your weapons," Luke pointed out. "It's crazy."
"Luke, I love you but you don't know a thing about what you're talking about. Anything still inside that building has been sealed up for a hundred thousand years. It's been cut off from the Collective, and even if it were to re-establish a connection, drones were only equipped with adaptive shields a few thousand years ago. Whatever's inside that citadel won't have any special protection against us."
"It still sounds dangerous," Luke commented, unable to think of any more rational arguments but refusing to agree with the plan.
"Of course it's dangerous," Seven replied. "But this could be it Luke. The end of the war, the end of the Borg. Whatever the dangers, we have to try. We're not fighting for our lives, we're fighting for what makes us human. Music, late nights, bar fights," she giggled, "your insidious methods of torture." She laughed a little as she embraced him, but he didn't feel much better.
"I know that," he said, "I just don't like it." He sighed. "Well, you can count on me."
"That's sweet," she replied, "but it's not going to happen."
"I'm afraid it is," Luke said. "I'm not letting you risk your life like this-"
"It's not up to you or me Luke," she replied. "Starfleet General Order 148: 'Studies have shown that when individuals with strong emotional bonds are placed within high stress situations, the situation is frequently unstable. For that reason, individuals such as family members, spouses, etc. shall not be sent into the same combat zone.' Like it or not, they'll never include you in the mission if I'm involved, and the mission can't happen without me."
Luke sighed heavily. "When do you leave?" he asked.
"Two days," she replied. "We'll be rendezvousing at Deep Space 19 and taking a ship to the planet. If all goes well we'll be back there that very night."
"All had better go well then," Luke said.
"You," she said, poking him in the chest, "need to relax." She started kissing him on his lips, then explored a little, and regardless of past and future, Luke let himself enjoy the present for a while.
On board Deep Space 19 C-3PO and R2-D2 watched the group of Federation and Romulan ships slowly drift around the station, joining the ranks of the Republic forces docked here. Artoo chirped something to Threepio.
"Of course I'm worried," Threepio replied. "Being this close to Borg space is absolutely terrifying." Artoo gave his electronic response. "You should know better," Threepio admonished him. "After all, you were at Wormhole Base when the Borg came. You saw what they did."
Artoo rolled back and forth a little, the chirping and beeping code speaking volumes. "Do you know what the Borg will do if they capture us?" Threepio asked with horror. "They'll tear us apart and use us to line their hulls, or worse!" There was the sound of the docking procedure beginning and the two stopped their discussion. "Your highness," Threepio said, "I believe they're ready."
Leia Organa Solo came over and stood next to the droids as they waited for the seal to be released. When it finally did, a tall Romulan officer stepped through the dock, smiling at her. "Ambassador," his voice resonating a little as he stepped forward and took her hand.
"It's good to see you again, Admiral," Leia replied.
"Romulus has been a mite poorer since your withdrawal from our world."
"I miss the hospitality of your people as well. I also thank them, and you, for helping us in our most desperate hour."
Admiral Riklin nodded, then turned towards the window. "I see the Federation finally decided to chip in," his voice having a slight edge of disgust. "It's good to know that, no matter how much the universe changes, they will still be bound by politics."
"Let us not dwell on such things," Leia said. "The Alliance needs to stand as one, now more than ever. We three are all that remain, and I fear that with the damage to the Republic, it will all too soon be two."
"That will not happen," Riklin insisted. "As to your point, for your sake I will be civil to the Federation; I shall do my best not to regurgitate as they strut about like the heroes of the hour for deigning to show up."
Leia laughed a little. "It is appreciated." She took the admiral by the arm and lead him down the corridor as they spoke. Threepio turned back to the window with a shake.
"He's quite cavalier," he said, "But I'm afraid it won't be as easy as he says." Artoo warbled a response. "I know enough about fighting to know that this is very dangerous," he shivered. "Very dangerous indeed."
Delric Taar stepped into Thrawn's office for the first time in over half a year, pleased at the victorious return of the commander. They had been receiving reports for some time about the expanding Imperial control in their own galaxy, and Taar knew who was responsible for that. For the first time in years, it seemed the Empire truly had something to celebrate. Unfortunately, Taar was forced to be the bearer of disturbing news.
"General," Thrawn remarked as Taar walked over to where he sat. "I must commend you on your service to the Empire during my absence. You have handled things most effectively."
"Thank you sir," Taar replied. "And I congratulate you on your success, sir. You have restored the Empire to her former glory. Unfortunately, sir, I'm afraid I must also inform you of a most unbelievable turn of events." Thrawn raised an eyebrow but said nothing. "We've learned that Picard is alive."
Thrawn never showed fear, he never really showed anger for that matter, although he could be cross at times. But for a brief moment Taar could swear he saw a hint of some kind of emotion pass briefly over Thrawn's face, but before he could dwell on it the admiral spoke. "I gave clear instructions that he was to be executed," he replied, his voice showing his disappointment. "What happened?"
"We don't know," Taar said. "I've checked through the records and everything shows that Picard was executed as per your command, sir. Nevertheless, he has been seen, alive, on the Federation homeworld." He swallowed. "Obviously he's told them everything about our attack on him."
"I am not concerned with what the Federation knows," Thrawn replied. "They are insignificant in the grand scheme. I am more concerned about the sheer incompetence of this crew in dealing with a single human prisoner. I want you to find out who is responsible, and I want an example made of them. This kind of gross dereliction of duty will not be tolerated." Taar nodded and quickly turned and left, allowing Thrawn time to mull over the situation. Picard escaping from his flagship; what an embarrassment.
Thrawn had spoken the truth to General Taar; the Federation really were of no importance. Even if Picard had told them the truth about him, it didn't matter. What concerned him was what could happen if word of that got back to members of the Empire. While few would believe it at first, it could develop into such a problem as to destroy all he had worked for. He refused to allow that to happen.
Thousands of light-years away, a group of over eighty Borg cubes were in the midst of assimilating another world. Since their return, hundreds of planets had met a similar fate. The Collective was growing at an unbelievable rate at this point; their biological and technological diversity higher than it had ever been before, with no end in sight.
But then Anansi's words reached them. After the assimilation was complete, the Cubes moved back into hyperspace towards their next target, the Federation homeworld. Twice before they had attempted this and failed; this time it would be different. At this same time Pyramid 01 also began to move to join the Borg fleet. The Federation, Anansi insisted, must be assimilated or destroyed at all costs. The Borg's single-minded determination showed that there would be no doubt for their success.
On board the Star Destroyer Vendetta, Mara Jade strapped her boot into place, forming an almost seamless connection with the black bodysuit she now wore. The first time in years, she thought to herself. She snapped on her long black cape, and then she pulled out the last item. She hooked the rebuilt double-bladed lightsaber to her belt as she looked out the window at the distant stars.
"The orchestra is playing," Darth Whind said. "The curtain rises. The time has come for you all to play the part that destiny has given you; and while the outcome has already been determined," she smirked, "I still expect your best performance."
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