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
cockpit 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]
Disney isn't going to confine themselves to nerd fan fiction, although they may take aspects of that fiction that work. But the storylines will be nothing like the books and I think that's pretty obvious.
