Before the Storm
by Sothis <benjamin.berwick@btinternet.com>
From bbs.stardestroyer.net

Chapter 1


	It was agony, thought Sisko. Agony, to be left behind on Deep Space Nine, 
unable to avenge the death of his wife. Starfleet had given him his orders; 
owing to the increasingly volatile situation with the Dominion, he was of more 
use on Deep Space Nine that in the Typhon Sector. The Defiant was to depart, 
with a minimal crew (the risk of destruction- or worse, assimilation, was too 
great), and join a fleet some three-hundred strong, under the command of Admiral 
Hayes. 
	That order had been over a day ago, now the Defiant and the rest of the 
fleet prepared to engage the only enemy more dangerous than the Dominion: the 
Borg. 
	No one had yet determined the origin of the Borg, save for the fact that 
they came from the Delta Quadrant. They were singular of both mind and purpose, 
utterly consumed by their desire to assimilate other beings into their 
Collective. Captain Picard had never described the details of what it was like 
to absorbed into a single mind, his personality erased, but that hadn't stopped 
people from guessing. Sisko imagined it was as though one was a slave in their 
own body, trapped, and controlled by the will of the Collective. You could only 
move when the Borg needed you to, you could only stop when the Borg wanted you 
to. A thunderous voice was upon you all the time, beating away rational thought 
and personality, until a shell remained of the person inside the drone.
	As if the losing of one's mind was a terrible enough fate, that wasn't the 
end of it.  The Borg raped not only the mind but the body as well. Whilst the 
personal effects on Picard had never been revealed, the physical effects of 
assimilation were well- documented. The Borg removed limbs to replace them with 
grotesque metallic appendages, took out eyes to exchange them with their own, 
and throughout the body grew various other implants of Borg design. Skin was 
stretched until the surface broke, revealing a new item of Borg technology. 
Veins ran black with the poison of the Collective. You became what the Borg 
wanted you to be, in both body and soul.
	On the screen in Sisko's office, he could see a picture of the now fully 
assembled fleet. As much as facing the Borg terrified him, he also wanted to be 
there. He had lost his wife on the Saratoga six years ago, and many friends as 
well, when the Borg had first attacked. That day was etched in his memory, a 
mental scar that would never fully heal.  Sisko still remembered the smoke, the 
heat of the flames, and the sight of people, bleeding over the deck, as he ran 
to find his wife and son. He could still hear Locutus, parroting the 
Collective's call, and the sight on the view-screen of ships being smashed like 
playthings by the Borg Cube. Thirty-nine starships had been lost, unable to halt 
the Borg, even for a moment. 
	Now the Federation had brought a great many more ships to the battle, more 
advanced vessels, with stronger shields, improved weapons, faster computers, and 
crews that were better prepared for the Borg. 
	Unable to remain in his office, too tense and nervous, Sisko left, 
entering Ops.  Manning the Science station was Lt. Commander Jadzia Dax. At the 
central display, Major Kira and Constable Odo. Whilst Sisko and Dax knew of the 
Borg, either through experience or through study, Kira and Odo had only the 
stories of others. Both of them looked concerned, but neither could truly 
understand what it meant to face the Borg. 
	Sisko glanced at Dax, their dread mutual, before he asked her to bring up 
the tactical display on the central display. Three-hundred lights appeared on 
it, each with a barely readable writing next to it, giving the name and status 
of the ship represented. Dax spotted the Defiant first, having been looking for 
her lover's ship. Sisko spotted the look of fear and worry in Jadzia's eyes 
before it could pass, and wondered what his own eyes betrayed. 
	Without warning, another, larger blip appeared on the display. No ship 
name or status was given; none could be given, for this ship was nameless- like 
it's crew. The Borg ship moved toward the fleet at warp nine, seemingly 
oblivious to the ships laying before it.
	Then almost as suddenly as it's arrival on the screen, the Borg ship 
dropped out of warp, moving quickly toward to the Federation fleet…
	Good luck Worf…
	
	Admiral Hayes was afraid. He didn't show it of course, but the nerves and 
tension he'd been feeling had given way to fear as the Borg cube filled the 
view-screen, looming before the fleet. The ship looked like hastily put together 
scaffolding, pipes criss- crossing over flat beds of dark-hued metal. A green 
glow came from within the depths of the cube, a sign of the enemy's power.
	"Sir, the Borg are hailing us." Said Lieutenant Janice Morris, manning 
tactical.  She was of average build, with short red hair, and dark green eyes, 
perfectly positioned on her round face. Those eyes shone with anticipation of 
battle- a true battler, ready for the fight, thought Hayes to himself. 
	"Lets hear it." He replied, keeping his eyes on the viewer.
	Immediately, the Bridge was filled with a monstrous droning voice, a voice 
interlaced with a thousand others, all saying the same thing:
	"We are the Borg. You will lower your shields and surrender your ships. We 
will add your technological and biological distinctiveness to our own. Your 
culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
	Hayes narrowed his eyes as the Borg cut transmission. He had no intention 
of surrender, not when billions of lives were at stake.
	"Hayes to all ships, attack."
	As his flagship, the Akira-class Rising Sun moved to engage, Hayes saw on 
the screen other ships close in. Many were familiar designs, Miranda-class 
frigates, Excelsior, Ambassador and Nebula-class cruisers, even a Galaxy-class 
vessel. Others were new, carrying the most advanced technology developed by the 
Federation. There were other Akira-class ships, with their saucers swept forward 
gracefully, joined by pillars of metal to the engineering sections. Steamrunner-
class vessels, similar to some degree to the Akira class, except the nacelles 
were swept upwards, the saucer section running a little more against the lines 
of the ship. Norway and Defiant-class ships make up the selection, all of them 
armed to the teeth. Hayes was proud to command this fleet, despite the foe they 
faced.
	The Federation fleet opened fire first, quantum torpedoes, photon 
torpedoes and phaser fire piercing the twisted vision of a ship that was in 
front of them. To his delight, the cube was not resistant to the weaponry- 
clearly the advances made over the past few years had proven telling. A new 
modulating phaser frequency system was in place, altering the frequency after 
each burst of fire. The torpedoes were likewise enhanced, in addition to being 
more powerful. Each torpedo that found it's target left behind a deep pock-mark 
in the face of the cube.
	Just as Hayes allowed himself to believe that the battle would be over far 
quicker and with far less casualties then anticipated, the cube returned fire. 
Disruptor fire and Borg torpedoes crashed into the shields of several Federation 
vessels, bouncing them off their attack vectors. A second volley followed; this 
time the weapons fire penetrated the shields of some ships, a sign that the Borg 
were already learning weaknesses in the shields of the fleet. One starship 
exploded violently as a brace of torpedoes struck it's engineering section. An 
Ambassador-class vessel was left with a hole in it's saucer section, where a 
Borg cutting beam had sliced through. 
	"Morris, order all ships to activate the metaphasic shielding!" Shouted 
Hayes as Rising Sun was shaken by a torpedo. Morris quickly complied, then 
activated the shielding on the flagship as well.
	The balance was once again tipped in the Federation's favour. This time, 
the Borg weapons damaged the shields, but did not break them. However, Hayes 
knew the cube still had a large advantage in power, and would inflict many 
losses before this day was over. The fleet was at least giving as good as it was 
getting, with the Borg showing no signs of adapting to the improved weaponry on 
the ships. 
	On the view-screen, Hayes watched as another salvo from the Rising Sun 
broke the surface of the cube, and watched as a Defiant-class vessel raked the 
cube with the new pulse phasers. So far, the Defiant-class ships were doing well 
against the cube- a relief to Starfleet, as they had always been intended to 
fight the Borg- and the Borg were hard-pressed to target a faster, more agile 
vessel than any Federation ship previous encountered.
	That didn't stop the cube from targeting others though. A tractor beam 
lanced out, holding one of the new Akiras in place, despite it's shields. A 
moment later, the shields failed, and the tractor beam moved swiftly over the 
surface of the sleek starship, leaving behind hull breaches and power failures. 
Hayes realised to his horror, that the Borg had found a way past the metaphasic 
shields. 
	"Begin random modulation of shield frequencies. Don't give them time to 
adapt!" He called out, a note of panic in his voice.
	"Aye sir!" Came the heated reply of Morris. The ship shuddered as a ship 
behind her was destroyed; seconds later, the Galaxy-class Horatio, a symbol of 
the Federation's strength, was crippled, a tractor beam tearing away the port 
nacelle, a torpedo rendering the deflector array a charred mess of flame and 
metal. 
	The Borg don't even care enough to give them quick deaths, thought Hayes 
grimly, horribly aware that the crew of the Horatio would die from exposure to 
vacuum, fire and lack of life support. No ships could be spared to save them. 
	Yet another ship, this time a Miranda-class, was sliced into by Borg 
weapons. A long fiery gash could be seen on the underbelly, the ship rolled out 
of control. After that, two more ships, both firing furiously the cube, were 
silenced by torpedoes. 
	Time was moving by, Hayes knew, but he had no idea how much time. He was 
about to order the fleet to regroup, when the world lurched hard to the left, 
and he felt himself fly through the air. Lights flickered, consoles exploded. 
Hayes landed badly on his knee, grimacing as he heard it crack. Smoke poured 
from a damaged station behind him; in front of him lay a young Ensign named 
D'rek, a Vulcan. Hayes crawled over to him, but the Ensign was dead- a shard of 
metal buried in his neck.
	It was then that Hayes became aware of how damp his uniform was. Clutching 
a hand to his midsection, he moaned from pain. Looking down, he saw a gash in 
his side, a piece of metal had sliced him.
	An immediate assessment was that it wasn't a deep wound, but it was still 
serious.  Unless treated, he could suffer from shock, perhaps even pass out- 
neither was an option whilst the battle raged.
	"Report!" He roared over the alarms, uncertain of whom to expect a reply 
from, not even sure if anyone else was alive on the Bridge.
	A female voice answered, but not Lieutenant Morris. Hayes turned to see a 
middle-aged woman at the helm, looking at the readouts. Commander Anya, her 
normally well-kept blonde hair now out of place, a bruise on her cheek.
	"We've lost shields, and primary power! Secondary power is holding, but I 
don't know for how long. Hull breaches on decks seven, nine and twelve."
	Hayes knew immediately that Rising Sun had avoided a direct hit, but also 
that the ship was in serious trouble. Pushing aside his personal injury, Hayes 
hauled himself back into his chair, noticing as he did so that Lieutenant Morris 
was still alive.
	"Status of the Borg?" He asked, adding as an after-thought a request to 
turn off the sirens. 
	"The cube has taken damage to its hull, but sensors are damaged, I can't 
tell how bad their internal systems are." She seemed frustrated at the course of 
the battle, understandable, as on the screen yet another starship fell to a Borg 
onslaught.
	"Dammit. Come about and fire again. Whatever happens, never stop shooting.  
These bastards won't get the better of us."
	The fleet continued to wheel about, spraying phaser fire and spitting 
torpedoes.  The cube took the damage once more, and dished out some of it's own. 
The stronger ships were continuing to hold out, just barely; a Miranda-class 
vessel was blown clean away by a torpedo.
	Round after round of weapons fire was exchanged, each time the fleet 
peeling off and swinging about, each time the cube unrelentingly firing back. 
Pain was slowly making itself aware to Hayes- his wound ached, particularly when 
he shifted. He was uncertain as to how many times the fleet hit at the cube- 
only that time was slowly running out, as were the number of ships.
	
	Sisko winced as the indicators showed the Defiant had been hit once more. 
The indicator for Defiant was a yellow mark, meaning moderate damage. Green 
meant perfect health, flashing green was light damage. Flashing yellow was a 
sight quite a few ships had- and it meant serious damage. Red- which so many 
ships had- meant crippled- a dead loss. When the indicator disappeared 
completely, the ship was gone.
	For two hours the fight had raged. The cube remained a grey light- because 
Federation sensors had difficultly determining it's exact status. It had also 
gotten nearer to it's target, and the fear was mounting. If earth fell to the 
Borg, they would have a beach head for the entire quadrant. 
	"How can they still be going?" Asked Kira. She had heard of the Borgs 
resilience, and of the massacre at Wolf 359, but until now had only the word of 
others.  Now she understood why Sisko and the human officers were so worried. 
	When Kira had first heard of the Borg, she had still been fighting the 
Cardassians.  The Borg were an abstract enemy, and their victims far away, 
unimportant. Now though, she considered these people her friends, and the Borg 
were a far more real danger. 
	"Believe me Major, the Borg can always keep going." Replied Sisko quietly, 
never taking his eyes from the display. Kira thought she saw an intensity in her 
Captain's eyes, an old pain of the heart that somehow this battle was bringing 
out.
	The grey marker moved toward a formation of blinking lights, and small 
chirps indicated that weapons fire was being exchanged again. Sisko sucked in a 
breath, as yet more lights winked out. 
	"They're nearing earth." Said Bashir quietly, having finally joined the 
senior staff, no longer able to bear the fear as he sat in sickbay. Quite a few 
members of the crew had ended up in Ops, wanting to watch either their comrades 
victory, or their final defeat. 
	"I'm aware of that Doctor." Snapped Sisko, more harshly than he had 
intended.
	Slowly, the grey marker moved toward the pearl-like image, as more and 
more indicators turned red.
	
	The Rising Sun lurched through space, crackling with damage. It continued 
to spit torpedoes at the Borg vessel, but with seemingly no avail. Hayes 
grimaced from the twin problems of remaining conscious, and fighting off the 
pain of his chest wound. He had to focus, remain on the ball, or all would be 
lost. This battle… would be the defining fight of his career, perhaps even of 
the entire Federation!
	Reign yourself in, you're getting delusional, Hayes told himself. 
	"Morris, I want you to begin a slow overload of the phasers. I want to hit 
the Borg with a larger than normal discharge."
	A flash of concern washed over the Lieutenant's face, but she dutifully 
began the build-up of energy.
	"Sir, this won't do the ship any good, it could rupture the hull in 
several places." She said calmly. 
	"Acknowledged."
	A stream of quantum torpedoes peppered the surface of the cube, but in 
response, several ships were knocked hard off their course, shields flaring as 
they struggled to hold.  Earth was becoming larger and larger in the background, 
her citizens becoming increasingly fearful. Hayes was determined to alleviate 
those fears.
	In the foreground, the Defiant and the Thunderchild came about and fired 
phasers furiously, in reply, the cube shot out deadly tractor beams. Both ships 
were caught, but their shields held, for the moment. Another ship was not so 
lucky, and lost half it's saucer section to the Borg weaponry. 
	"ETA to earth?" asked Hayes, of no one in particular.
	"Thirty minutes." Came the flat reply of Morris.
	Half an hour. Just half an hour to stop the Borg, and things weren't going 
well, to say the least.
	The ship was humming now, the conduits pulsing with nearly fifty percent 
more energy than they were designed to handle. The smell of burning dust began 
to fill the Bridge- an indication that the phasers would hit the Borg with a 
wallop. At least, that was the plan.
	"Sir, plasma conduits are starting to rupture! We have to fire!" called 
Morris over the increasing drone, urgency in her voice.
	Hayes sucked in a painful breath. It was do or die time.
	"Fire."
	A single stream of emerald energy shot out from Rising Sun, ripping into 
the hull of the cube. For a moment Hayes felt encouraged as the beam appeared to 
pierce deep- a feeling that quickly died, as the cube's shields finally adapted 
to the phasers. Energy conduits had blown out all over the ship, rendering her 
helpless, and the cube was barely scratched. 
	"No…" came the whispered word of Commander Anya. On the screen, the cube 
hurled torpedoes out at the passing Federation ships- including three at Rising 
Sun.
	Hayes stood. He watched, in slow motion, as the torpedoes approached. The 
ship's shields had all but failed, and she was still reeling from earlier hits. 
	The first torpedo tore into the front of the saucer, ripping it to shards. 
Number two smashed into the port nacelle, cleanly removing it. The keening 
starship rolled backwards, as torpedo three hit, punching straight through what 
remained of the saucer. 
	The flagship was gone.
	
	
	
	"Admiral Hayes' ship has been destroyed." Stated Jadzia flatly. Her gaze 
met Sisko's for a split second, trying to gauge what her Captain was feeling.
	Tension, anger, and fear, all seemed to be rolled into one package within 
Sisko's eyes. Jadzia couldn't bear to see her Captain looking so… defeated, and 
averted her eyes.  Kira, Odo and Bashir, didn't even look up. 
	Chief O'Brien- who had since joined them- looked boiling with anger and 
worry.  Like Sisko and Bashir, he still had family on earth; only they would 
soon be nothing but drones, slaves forever. 
	"The Borg vessel is twenty minutes from earth at current speed." Announced 
Kira in a deadpan voice. "Approximately two-hundred and forty-two ships have 
either been destroyed or crippled."
	The lights continued to flicker quietly on the screen, the gruesome tale 
unfolding of the end of the Federation. 
	"The Defiant?" Asked Dax. Her anxiety about her lover's ship was evident.
	"The Defiant's shields are at thirty-two percent, main power at seventy-
four percent. She's still going round for round with the cube."
	A small measure of comfort at least. Worf would fight to the bitter end, 
never giving up. To do otherwise would be to dishonour himself and his uniform.
	But one ship couldn't make a difference now, not even the Defiant…
	
	Fury swept through his chest, as he shouted orders to his crew. Once again 
the ship peeled about in a tight turn, causing the inertial dampeners to squeal 
as they fought against the manoeuvres being made against them. The pulse phasers 
served as a manifestation of his rage, scarring the Borg's hull still further. 
Worf would not permit defeat at the hands of such a dishonourable foe. Quantum 
torpedoes caused still more damage to the cube, and Worf punched the air in 
delight. 
	That joy was short-lived as the Borg replied with torpedoes of their own. 
The first two bounced off the Defiant's shields, and sent the helmsman sprawling 
from his seat. For a dizzying moment, the Defiant was out of control, but Ensign 
Martinez hauled himself back into his seat, and steered the ship away from the 
next two torpedoes. A quick glance at a readout showed the shields weakened to 
just twenty percent. 
	"Report!" Yelled Worf over the din of alarms. 
	"The Borg are taking a lot of outer hull damage from torpedoes, but all 
phasers apart from ours are useless. No readings on inner systems, but our 
sensors aren't fully functional." Reported Martinez dutifully.
	They cannot be invincible. No enemy is invincible, they must have a 
weakness! 
	Again and again the Defiant circled, along with the remaining ships, 
firing all the time, but aside from some fresh puncture marks, the cube moved 
onward, unremittingly, toward it's target. Fresh torpedoes slammed against the 
Defiant's shields, and deadly tractor beams caught out ships that failed to 
manoeuvre in time. Worf held grimly onto his console as the ship shook 
violently. He tried to shout orders, but another torpedo penetrated the shields 
and smashed against the hull, triggering all kinds of alarms.  Smoke billowed 
from damaged consoles; Worf didn't want to think of the toxins he was breathing 
in.
	"Damage report!" He yelled.
	In the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice a fallen crewmember. 
He or she (the smoke made it difficult to tell) was slumped against the 
bulkhead, neck twisted at an impossible angle. 
	"shields at twelve percent, weapons only at twenty percent! Main power is 
fluctuating." Came Martinez's reply.
	"Come about, attack them again!" Roared Worf. He would not lose a battle 
to the Borg, even if he meant his death.
	Systems screaming, the Defiant angled around, shooting darts of emerald 
emergy at the cube. Worf noted that Martinez managed to dodge as the cube swept 
it's tractor beam out, looking for a death hold on the Defiant. Worf was about 
to encourage him to continue, when a tractor beam latched onto the damaged 
region of the hull. Panels erupted in flame; others simply went dead. 
	Tasting blood in his mouth, Worf took stock of the situation. He checked 
the chair console, then pounded it in frustration as it refused to yield 
anything information. 
	"Report" He asked again, already suspecting the answers.
	"Main power's offline, our shields are down and our weapons are gone."
	Well, that confirmed his suspicions at least. They were defenceless. 
	"Perhaps today is a good day to die…" he mused, more to himself. With a 
steely resolve, he faced in the direction of Martinez. "Prepare for ramming 
speed!"
	Martinez began to initiate the order, when his console bleeped, indicating 
the arrival of another ship. The information puzzled him, for he had thought all 
ships that had been ordered to battle had already arrived. Realisation of what 
the ship was dawned on him as he stared at the readouts. He tried, but failed to 
keep the excitement from his voice.
	"Sir, there's another starship coming in, it's the Enterprise!"
	I knew they would come thought Worf. He had had a feeling in his gut since 
the battle began, that Captain Picard would not be denied his rightful 
vengeance.
	The Defiant shuddered under the hammer blow of another Borg attack, but as 
Worf felt the tingle of the transporter, he knew the day would be won.
	
	Cheers erupted from the command center of Deep Space Nine, as the 
Enterprise sailed in orbit of earth, her mission to repair the time line a 
success. Bashir and O'Brien were punching the air in delight, whilst others 
simply sighed with relief. The Borg were defeated.
	Jadzia however, was in contact with earth, worried about Worf. Sisko gave 
her a supportive nod, then retired to his office, feeling exhausted. 
	Adding to his concerns about his tactical officers safety was the grim 
reality that lives had been lost on the Defiant, fine men and women whose loss 
was a great one.  Although he knew the task awaited him, Sisko did not want to 
begin to replace those officers, too morbid a task for his weary and heavy 
brain. Even worse was the task of sending letters of condolence to the families 
of the lost- never an easy duty.
	Retiring to his office to consider the eventful battle, and what it meant, 
Sisko sat behind his desk, idly rolling the baseball he kept back and forth. 
Despite the victory, he still felt taught, the adrenaline not yet purged from 
his system.
	Some of the tension, Sisko knew deep down, would stay with him. A pit of 
worry and excitement had settled in his stomach ever since his visions of the 
Federation's coming war with the Dominion. He knew, with unwavering certainty 
that war was inevitable, and the Federation seemed to believe him, given the 
advent of new, more advanced ships, and the removal of civilians from military 
installations and vessels.  Some areas had been declared no go zones for 
civilians, most notably the Bajoran sector, and areas around military bases. 
Even the new uniforms seemed to suggest a new sense of purpose about Starfleet 
officers.
	The door to his office chimed, removing Sisko from his reverie. Without 
looking up, he knew it was Major Kira. Only she seemed to ring the door so 
loudly and forcefully.
	"Enter."
	In stepped the fierily-haired Major. As ever her eyes was betraying an 
intensity that her voice and posture did not. Sisko also noticed two things; 
Kira had something to report, and it was troubling her.
	"Captain, we might have a situation." She said formally, but faltered, not 
certain of how to continue.
	"Well Major?" Sisko prodded, raising an eyebrow.
	Taking a breath, Kira steadied herself.
	"The wormhole sir… it's… fluctuating, unusually. Dax thinks a cloaked 
Dominion fleet could be coming through."
	Without a word, Sisko bolted from his seat and was somehow back into Ops 
before Kira. He marched to Dax's station, where the young Trill was busying 
herself with a kaleidoscope of readouts and information that boggled Sisko's 
mind. 
	"What do you have Dax?" He asked stiffly. Was the war he had just being 
thinking of about to begin?
	"I'm not sure Captain. Neutrino emissions are nearly three-hundred percent 
above normal, it's blanketing our sensors quite fiercely. I'm also detecting 
subspace oscillations that are off the scale. It's like someone's plugged the 
wormhole into a very large power source… it's extending the wormhole's reach 
Benjamin."
	"Where to? To the heart of Dominion space?" This time, the Captain 
couldn't keep the urgency from his voice. He needed to report something to 
Starfleet Command, and quickly, if this was the prelude of an invasion. 
	Dax shook her head.
	"I can't tell. We'd need to send a probe or a ship through the wormhole to 
see where it opens up." 
	"Captain! Look!"
	The call had come from Major Kira, who had pulled up an image of the 
wormhole on the main screen. Gone was the pattern of blues that usually 
accompanied the wormhole's opening, replaced by light hues of red and orange, 
and darker shades of red and green at the edges. Energy, translated as visible 
light on the screen, but in reality in the form of gamma radiation, was belched 
from the wormhole's maw, spreading and dissipating in the void of space. 
	"Energy levels within the wormhole are increasing exponentially, yet the 
wormhole's matrix appears to be stable. Excess energy is being spat out through 
the opening- presumably the same thing is happening at the other end as well. 
There's enough energy in the wormhole to have the force of a two-thousand 
teraton explosion!"  For once, even the unflappable Dax seemed in awe of the 
forces outside the station. She was about to continue with her analysis when the 
station shuddered, not violently, but enough to be noticed.
	"Dax, what's happening?" Barked Sisko, never taking his eyes off the 
increasingly erratic image on the screen. 
	"The energy being funnelled away by the wormhole is reaching further away 
with each new expul…" Jadzia was drowned out as the station rumbled again, this 
time more strongly. "…sion. It's not yet enough to harm the station, but I 
recommend raising shields and using the thrusters to move away to a safer 
distance."
	Finally glancing back to Dax, Sisko nodded. "Agreed. Chief O'Brien, get 
the thrusters ready. Dax, I need to be patched through to the whole station, and 
any ships docked with us. I also need a feed to Starfleet Command."
	"Aye Sir." Came O'Brien's and Dax's replies. Dax gave a slight nod when 
the channels were open.
	"This is Captain Benjamin Sisko to all station personnel, and to all ships 
presently docked. This message is also being broadcast to Starfleet Command, 
given the possible threat that exists as I speak.
	Due to forces unknown, the wormhole is receiving massive amounts of power 
to it. Most of that energy is being used to somehow increase the distance 
between the two ends of the wormhole. At the moment, the Alpha quadrant opening 
remains in the Bajoran system, although we can't say for how long. Due to the 
intense energies being emitted from the wormhole, I am ordering this station 
moved to a more safe distance, and all non-essential personnel and civilians to 
report to their quarters until the station comes to a halt. All non-station 
personnel onboard are to report to their ships for the same purpose.
	It should be noted that the possibility exists that the Dominion is behind 
the wormhole's behaviour. If that is true, then an invasion might be imminent. I 
am request additional support from Starfleet to counter any possible invasion 
fleet. As more information becomes available to me, I will relay to you, the 
good people of this station, and to the commanders of the ships docked with us. 
Captain Sisko out."
	Turning to face Major Kira, his brow now glistening with sweat, Sisko 
issued orders for the Major to liase with Odo and the people from the ships in 
dock, and make sure all his orders were followed by the myriad of types that 
were on the station at the moment. The Nausacans and Chal'noth on board were 
likely to be uncooperative, and Sisko knew from painful experience that Quark 
would squeal at any threat to his profits.  Right now, he needed someone else to 
take on those duties, whilst he focused on the bigger picture. Kira was good at 
getting the nitty gritty things done.
	As Kira left Ops, heading for the Promenade, Dr Bashir accompanying her- 
the doctor deciding he'd be of better use in the medical bay- Sisko rejoined Dax 
at the science station. The young Trill was intent on her screens, trying to 
fathom what was going on. Her focus was momentarily shaken as the station rocked 
again, this time forcing O'Brien, at Engineering, to hold onto the railing,
	"Old man, you mentioned something about sending a ship through to get more 
information about where the other end of the wormhole was?" Asked the Captain 
quietly.
	"Or a probe. Personally, I wouldn't risk sending a ship through that." 
Jadzia pointed at her own display of the wormhole, great plumes of increasingly 
forceful energy erupting as the mouth opened and closed.
	"Mmm, trouble is, a probe would probably be destroyed instantly." 
	"I wouldn't bet on a ship lasting much longer Benjamin. Even the Defiant 
would be overwhelmed in seconds, and we don't even have her at the moment."
	Frustration welled up in Sisko, making itself obvious in his eyes. At the 
moment, he had to play the game no captain wanted to play- wait and see.
	A small bleep from Dax's station caught Jadzia's attention. She pressed a 
control, studied the information, then turned back to her Captain, as the latest 
burst of energy from the wormhole hit the shields. This time, the lights dimmed 
for a moment, causing alarm on O'Brien's face and concern on Sisko's.
	"Ben, Kira reports everyone is either onboard their ship or in their 
quarters. We're ready to move away."
	"Chief?"
	"Ready Captain, all thrusters standing by."
	"Fire thrusters!"
	Slowly, unsteadily, Deep Space Nine heaved its way through space, away 
from the increasingly dangerous wormhole. As O'Brien channelled more power to 
the thrusters, the speed increased, and the station pulled clear of the reach of 
the wormhole's energies. Just to be safe, O'Brien kept going for a couple of 
seconds longer than he needed, just to give them all a margin for error. Sisko 
recognised his engineer's common sense, and didn't countermand him, letting the 
station keep going for a little while longer, before finally ordering a complete 
stop.
	In the background, the wormhole continued it's spitting.
	
	"We're in range of the test target." Reported the Lieutenant.
	"Power up the main laser." Ordered the commander.
	"Yes sir. Main laser charging."
	"Fire when ready."
	Three ferocious lines of green energy formed over the main dish, meeting 
at like a prism about the main point of the dish. An instant later, a fourth 
beam, larger than the others, leapt from the centre point, and plunged into and 
through the three others.  Another second later, it impacted the large rocky 
body it was aimed at, shattering it outward so completely that not even the 
force of gravity could ever bind it back together again. Thousands of tiny bolts 
of energy leapt from the surface of the battle station that had just destroyed 
the planet, vaporising the smaller pieces of debris that were hurtling for the 
station. The larger pieces the shields handled with ease.
	"Test successful sir. Target destroyed."
	The commander smiled. His brainchild had now had three successful tests of 
the primary weapon, each time on progressively larger targets. The latest, of 
approximately earth density, was the most encouraging and exciting demonstration 
of his project's power. 
	"Send a message to the Emperor. Tell him that the latest test was a 
complete success, and that we will soon be ready to test the Death Star's main 
weapon on shielded targets." Ordered Grand Moff Tarkin. 
	"Yes sir!" Came the youth-infused voice of his Lieutenant, obviously 
exhilarated at being part of the tests. 
	As the Lieutenant went off to fulfil Tarkin's order, another person was 
making his way to firing control, where Tarkin sat. This person ignored those 
who walked hurriedly past him, aware that they feared him, and taking perverse 
delight in that. He made his way quickly to the control chamber, and actually 
felt a vague sense of disappoint that even Tarkin felt a twinge of fear to see 
him.
	"Ah, Lord Vader. You will pleased to know, this latest test of the Death 
Star's firepower was a total success. I have sent a message to the Emperor to 
inform him of our progress." Any worry Tarkin felt was buried by his enthusiasm 
for his endeavour, what he felt was his ultimate accomplishment. 
	"The emperor will be pleased."
	Tarkin stood, crossing the room and going to Vader's side. The small 
tremble of fear that the Sith Lord felt was tempered by a strange feeling of 
friendship that he felt coming from the Grand Moff. In his own, peculiar way, 
Vader returned that feeling.
	Together the two highest-ranking officers on the Death Star made their way 
to the main command centre, receiving looks of respect and/or fear from the crew 
as they walked past. For a short while the pair said nothing, then Vader sensed 
Tarkin's desire to strike up conversation, and decided to beat him to it.
	"When do you expect this battle station to be in proper use?" he rumbled.
	"Very soon. I wish to conduct one last test, against planetary-level 
shielding, and then the Death Star can join the fleet, and that is when our 
enemies will finally surrender.  No one will be able to oppose us." Tarkin was 
eagerly gloating about his project's capabilities, making no effort to hide his 
pride.
	"Our names will go down in history, my friend."
	Vader was silent. His pace slowed, as the tingling in the back of his mind 
increased. It had not been there a moment before, the slow rise of a ripple in 
the Force.  It felt like someone was throwing pebbles in a stream, each time a 
slightly larger pebble, creating slightly bigger waves. The sensation was 
irritating, particularly as it was a constant annoyance. 
	Tarkin stopped and looked back at Vader, concern wrinkling his brow.
	"Vader, are you alright?"
	"I sense… a disturbance in the Force… yet I am not sure where it 
originates…" The uncertainty was lost as Vader drew upon his powers. He let the 
increasing, maddening effects of the Force fuel his anger, feed his power.
	"Order a full sensor sweep of the area, all sensors, maximum range, then 
report anything unusual to me." 
	Technically, Tarkin held more authority than Vader, but the deep, resonant 
tone of the Sith's voice, the lurking passion behind the words, gave pause to 
Tarkin's protests. 
	"As you wish my lord." Came the subdued reply. He hurried to the command 
deck, acutely aware that Vader was right behind him.
	Immediately the other officers on the command deck snapped to attention. 
	"Begin a full sensor sweep of the area. Have a TIE squadron deployed to 
investigate any anomalous readings you find, no matter now insignificant." 
Ordered Vader. The officers, with nervousness visible in their eyes, set about 
their task, all of them finding a console or panel to busy themselves with. No 
one wanted to look like they were dragging their heels.
	Reaching out with the Force, Vader tried to pinpoint the exact location of 
the tremor he felt. He moved to the window, closed his eyes, and slowed his 
breathing, stretching his powers into the cold of space. He could feel the 
debris from the freshly annihilated planet, sense the throbbing power of the 
system's star, yet the pebbles that disturbed him, were out of reach, 
tantalising him with their presence.
	A flame-haired officer moved to Tarkin's side, whispering something into 
his ear.  With amusement, Vader sensed the officer's clear unwillingness to go 
near him, preferring that Tarkin do the reporting.
	The Grand Moff held no such reluctance. Tarkin walked briskly to Vader's 
side.
	"Lord Vader, a possible source for what ever it is you're looking for. 
Sensors are picking up some kind of rift where the core of the planet we just 
destroyed used to be.  It's slowly increasing in size, and is emitting neutrinos 
and gamma radiation. TIE fighters are moving for a closer look as we speak."
	"Any indication on what is causing this rift?"
	"As of yet, we do not…" Tarkin's voice was cut off from a cry of anguish 
over the speakers. He and Vader moved quickly to a monitoring station, where the 
red-haired officer was observing the fighters.
	A group of three TIE Interceptors had swooped toward the anomaly, scanning 
it at close range. Without warning, the energy emissions from the rift had 
increased rapidly, and now it spat that energy from it's opening, engulfing the 
fighters.
	"Lieutenant, report!" Ordered Tarkin sternly.
	"Sir, the rift, it's expending energy in large pulses, every few seconds. 
High intensity bursts of gamma radiation, and subspace emissions are increasing 
exponentially.  Grand Moff, the fighters are gone. No trace of them, even of 
debris." The lieutenant looked guilty, as though it were his fault.
	Tarkin opened his mouth to reply, but Vader beat him to it.
	"Shouldn't the sensors be detecting at least some trace of the fighters 
remains?"
	The Lieutenant now appeared frightened, as though he had made an error.
	"W-well, perhaps, sir, but this is an unknown anomaly, never before seen."
	Tarkin regarded Vader with an inquisitive look.
	"What do you suspect has happened Lord Vader?" He asked.
	"I do not believe those fighters have been destroyed. No form of 
vaporisation is perfect, correct?"
	"Correct."
	"Then our fighters are intact."
	Now bewildered, the lieutenant spoke up.
	"But where?"
	"That is what we will have to find out." Rumbled Vader.
	
	Only an hour had passed, yet dozens of complaints about Sisko's actions 
had flooded in, ending up on his desk in the form of data pads. One thing Sisko 
had often wished for was the right to label all and any civilian mail destined 
for him as garbage, but sadly Starfleet had refused his request.
	In the background, the wormhole glowed, and vomited, and remained a 
danger.  Dax was looking into a way to calm things down, but it was a tall 
order, even for someone with the experience of eight lives.
	Another, more important communiqué had also made it's way to Sisko's desk- 
a message from Starfleet Command. They were dispatching a fleet of over fifty 
starships to Deep Space Nine, in case the Dominion was preparing an attack. 
	The wormhole's exotic behaviour had attracted attention from elsewhere 
too.  Long range sensors had monitored the approach of twenty-seven Klingon 
Vor'Cha class attack cruisers, who were now hovering in the edge of the 
station's sensor range. The Cardassians had dispatched a dozen Galor-class 
warships, which were giving the Klingons a wide berth. If the Romulans were 
here, as Sisko suspected, then they were running cloaked- not exactly surprising 
behaviour for the Vulcans sneakier cousins. 
	So far though, no other government, save for the Bajorans, had contacted 
Starfleet or Captain Sisko. Naturally, there was pressure from the Provisional 
Government on Bajor to find out what was threatening the wormhole, what they 
viewed as the Celestial Temple of the Prophets. Sisko suspected that Kai Winn 
was orchestrating that pressure, deep within a temple on Bajor; it wouldn't have 
been the first time she'd involved herself in political affairs.
	Sisko circled his desk, unable to sit still. He prowled from one end of 
the room to the other, rolling his baseball in his hand. Idly he tossed it from 
hand to hand, waiting for answers. He was tempted to go back into Ops, harass 
Dax and the others, but he knew they were doing all they could to unlock this 
mystery. Bugging them would only cause irritation and slow any progress made so 
far.
	Moving to the window, Sisko stopped playing with the baseball. The 
wormhole was there, glowing, opening and closing seemingly with nothing passing 
through it, though in reality it was unleashing huge amounts of radiation and 
energy. Yet that wasn't what had Sisko's attention.
	Movement, movement that should not have been there, caught Sisko's eyes. A 
group of shapes, tumbling from the wormhole, black dots against the wormhole's 
luminous entrance. 
	Senses heightened, the Captain tried to ascertain what those objects were. 
They were too small to be starships, which ruled out the possibility of a 
Dominion attack fleet. 
	Slapping his commbadge, Sisko got Dax to conduct a scan of the area around 
the wormhole, then marched into Ops.
	"Benjamin." Called Jadzia. "Two things. One, I'm picking up four metallic 
objects, with internal power sources. I'm also detecting life-signs, faint but 
there…" Dax paused, as though uncertain how to continue. When she continued, her 
voice was softer. 
	"Ben, I'm reading human life-signs, and the wormhole has stabilised, I 
don't know how or why, but it has."
	Immediately Sisko's mind raced with questions. If those ships were manned 
by humans, then could they be Starfleet ships from the future? Could it be that 
the wormhole had somehow connected to another time?
	Still, a more immediate consideration took over Sisko's brain. The people 
on those small ships were injured, and would die without help. The questions of 
who they were, and why the wormhole had stabilised, could be answered later.
	"Chief." As he spoke, the Captain turned to face his engineer. "We need to 
return the station to it's normal position, and I want to take a runabout out to 
retrieve those people."
	O'Brien stroked his chin thoughtfully, trying to recall which runabout was 
available.
	"I'll have the Rio Grande prepped and ready in ten minutes." He replied.
	"Make it five, those people don't have much time."
	"Aye sir." Came the sober reply.
	Again Sisko hit his commbadge, as O'Brien left Ops to head to the runabout 
pad, muttering commands via his own commbadge to his staff. 
	"Sisko to Kira."
	"Yes Captain?" In the background, Sisko could hear other voices, the 
voices of grumbling and complaining ship captains and shop staff. Quark's whiney 
tones were the most evident, and Sisko couldn't help but smile.
	"Major, you can inform the good people down there that the alert has 
passed.  We're going to return the station to it's normal location, then the 
lockdown can be ended.  I'm sure your audience will appreciate the news."
	"With pleasure Captain!" Kira made no effort to hide the relief from her 
voice.
	Closing the channel, Sisko opened another to Bashir, informing him bring a 
medkit and an orderly to runabout pad C, where he would meet them. 
	
	The journey in the Rio Grande was quiet, mainly because no one knew what 
to expect or what to say. The metal blobs that Sisko had spotted from his office 
were more coherent now, clearly small vessels of some kind. A small round bubble 
formed the main body of each craft, and seemed to be the source of the energy 
readings. A quick scan from O'Brien confirmed what Sisko suspected- that the 
power sources of those ships weren't functioning at full capacity.
	The other parts of the craft could be best described as fins, triangular 
fins on either side, with small ports at the front of each triangle. 
	"We're in transporter range Captain." Remarked O'Brien matter-of-factly.
	"Energize Chief, lets get those people onboard."
	Four shimmering columns of light illuminated the aft section of the 
cockpit, just behind Bashir and his orderly, a young Bajoran woman called Telia. 
Everyone turned to see their new arrivals; Bashir and Telia moved immediately to 
the wounded.
	The pilots of the craft were all wearing black fighter outfits, breathing 
apparatus fitting to their helmets. Bashir ran his tricorder over each pilot, 
then instructed Telia to remove their helmets, whilst he injected them each with 
a hypospray. Each pilots breathing was swallow, their faces pale. Whatever 
they'd been through, it had been rough.
	Within moments, at Bashir's request, Rio Grande was hurtling back to the 
station.  Another moment later, and they had arrived, Bashir beaming his 
patients straight to sickbay, concern playing over his face.
	How long it would be before of any of the pilots regained consciousness, 
Bashir had no idea, though he knew it wouldn't be long before the captain asked 
him. 
	Within minutes, the orderlies and himself had each patient on a bio-bed 
and hooked up to the monitors. From his workspace, Bashir could monitor the 
heart rate, respiration and brain activity of each patient. The computer would 
also keep him notified if any of the readings changed.
	Interestingly, each of the pilots were human males. Also noteworthy was 
that their injuries were very similar, as though a strong charge of electricity 
had flooded their bodies- except the neural injuries associated with a severe 
enough shock weren't as serious as they might have been.
	Probably due to their flight suits, mused Bashir. There was some burning 
of the internal organs, as well as to the skin, but none of it was hugely 
difficult to fix, in fact, Bashir was surprised the patients were having such 
difficulty breathing, since they obviously hadn't absorbed as much energy from 
their wormhole passage as they could have.
	"Nurse Telia, set to work on patients one and two, specifically on 
correcting their neural injuries. Once those are under control, treat the burns. 
We can give those a little leeway, as they're not as serious as I expected. I'll 
deal with patients three and four."
	"Yes Doctor." Replied Telia quietly. With that, Bashir got to work.
	
	It had been twenty minutes now, twenty minutes of exact readings from the 
phenomenon. Still the TIEs remained missing, yet no trace of metallic or organic 
residue had been detected. The maddening question remained, where were they?
	It was a question that played on Tarkin's mind as he took his seat in the 
Death Star's main conference chamber, a large room with a large round table, and 
enough chairs for twenty-five important figures.
	Next to Tarkin, standing behind his chair, was Lord Vader, obviously 
preferring to stand, as a mark of his own importance. 
	Also present were three Grand Admirals, out of the twelve that existed: 
Admiral Beniga, Admira Zogo, and Admiral Lang. 
	Beniga was a veteran of the Clone Wars, and still carried a scar down his 
left cheek. In contrast to his pale, small face and his silver hair, the scar 
was a deep red, an indication of the severity of the original wound. Like a true 
soldier, Beniga had not had the scar removed, as it served to remind both 
himself and others of his experience.
	To his left sat Zogo, a muscular, dark-haired man, with an appearance 
roughly fifteen years Beniga's junior. Zogo had shot through the ranks like a 
rising star, excelling both in training and as an officer. Still, he had yet to 
experience a true war, having only faced a few skirmishes with bands of rebels, 
or chases with pirates on the Rim.
	On Beniga's right was Lang, the only woman present, and a rarity in that 
she, as a woman, had risen so far in the Empire. Middle-aged, flame-haired, and 
fiery of spirit and temper, it was said that Lang could be utterly ruthless and 
single-minded in achieving her objectives. She expected complete and utter 
loyalty from those she commanded, and did not hesitate to make examples of those 
who did wrong by her.
	That said, to those who served her well, she was said to reward 
handsomely.
	All three Admirals were looking expectantly at Tarkin, being the ranking 
military officer present. Zogo occasionally gave Vader a nervous glance, but 
Beniga and Lang had experience on their side, and controlled their expressions, 
save for the impatient looks they shot at Tarkin.
	"Well?" Asked Zogo. "You have summoned our Star Destroyers and their 
support ships here, without telling us why. I for one, Grand Moff, would like to 
know why."
	Inwardly Tarkin bristled at the impetuous tone in the Admiral's voice. It 
was the place of Zogo to speak in such a manner to a Grand Moff. Still, cooler 
heads always prevailed.
	"Forgive Zogo sir, he is young and impatient. That said, we are curious to 
know why you have asked us here." Said Beniga, casting a glare at Zogo. 
	Calmly and wordlessly, Tarkin pressed a small control in front of him. The 
door behind the Admirals opened up, and in stepped a nervous lieutenant. He 
paused when realised the company he was in, mouth slightly open, then hurriedly 
dispensed with his task, handing each of the Admirals a report. With a salute, 
the lieutenant quickly left. 
	"As you can see in the reports in front of you, the Death Star encountered 
an as yet unexplained disturbance that was somehow responsible for the 
disappearance of four TIE Interceptors. Also evident in the report is the 
immense energy readings taken, which have since stopped. The disturbance is 
still there, yet stable now, for an unknown reason." Tarkin paused, giving the 
Admirals time to read the report.
	"The fighters weren't destroyed." Said Lang, after a time.
	Tarkin nodded slightly.
	"You concur with the report's evidence? That no form of vaporisation is 
perfect?"
	"Yes- that means wherever our fighters are, they're intact."
	"A wormhole." Stated Beniga bluntly. Everyone else turned to look at him.
	"Two years ago, my battle group engaged a group of pirates out on the Rim. 
In the ensuing battle, a great deal of energy was thrown around between ships. 
When we had crushed the pirates, we noticed an opening in space, like a hole in 
the fabric of the universe. It was emitting low levels of hyperspace and 
subspace energy." Beniga paused, recalling the event.
	"I ordered a group of fighters to proceed to the opening, then ordered one 
to go into it. After a few moments, we detected the fighter- perfectly intact, 
over five thousand light-years away. This anomaly." He gestured to the report. 
"Is the same, based on these scans, only on a much larger scale."
	The others considered this possibility. It did serve to explain the 
disappearance of the fighters, and the strong subspace emissions.
	"If it is a wormhole, then where does it lead?" Asked Zogo.
	Lang spoke up.
	"We should send probes through, to gather data and ascertain where our 
fighters are."
	"No."
	The growl of Vader's voice caught the three Admirals attention. As ever, 
there was something about Vader that made everyone else be quiet.
	"Probes will not be able to help our fighters. We send a ship through, for 
retrieval, and to scout this new location properly. Let us see what awaits us."



Chapter 2

	Admiral Beniga had been selected to head through the wormhole, his 
previous encounter which such a phenomenon, and his considerable experience 
making him the preferred choice (to the chagrin of Zogo and Lang, who were both 
eager for the chance to head through the wormhole). His Star Destroyer, the 
Raven, was being prepared, her TIE squadrons being refuelled, her engines 
readied, everything being checked over before the potentially rough passage 
through the wormhole. Priority was being given to the hyperdrive, weaponry and 
shields; one never knew what to expect on the other side of such a vast journey, 
and it made sense to be ready.
	Seated on the Bridge of his ship, Beniga listened to status reports and 
occasionally cast his approving eye over the reports of his officers. He 
refrained from getting directly involved, for in truth there was little he could 
do at this stage except annoy those who were doing their jobs, as well as 
undermine their confidence. 
	In little over an hour, Beniga and the crew of the Raven would make 
history by heading into the unknown.
	"I have to admit to be feeling nervous sir." Said Commander Gregari. 
Young, said to be roguishly good looking, with wavy blonde hair, Gregari was 
arrogant, brash, and known to come down harsh on anything that deviated from 
procedure. That said, he had a keen grasp of tactical situations and his unique 
mode of driving people often brought out the very best in them. Beniga felt if 
he lost his arrogance and impetuous attitude, Gregari would make a fine captain 
one day. The alternative was that he'd get himself killed, either by an angry 
junior officer, or because he underestimated his opposition in battle. Right now 
Gregari stood just to Beniga's left, doing his best to look impressive even with 
nothing to do.
	"Understandable Commander, given our mission. It's always a nervous 
experience, being the first into the unknown. Still, it's also one to look 
forward to. Who knows what we will find?"
	"Doubtless it will raise our standing in the Empire. Imagine it, we will 
be heroes for recovering our lost fighters, and granted legendary status for 
finding what we will find!"
	Mentally Beniga shook his head. Still an hour before we leave and already 
he's jumping the gun. Anything was possible with the unknown, which included the 
possibility of finding nothing at all.
	The next hour drifted by quickly, the crew busy with their preparations. 
By the time of departure, Beniga noted proudly that his crew had everything at 
near 100% efficiency, all systems fully ready to face what awaited them.
	"Put us through to Grand Moff Tarkin." Ordered Beniga.
	A small holographic representation of the Grand Moff materialised on the 
small station in front of Beniga; even as a hologram, Tarkin still managed to 
maintain a look of authority.
	"Are your preparations complete Admiral?" came the amplified voice.
	"Yes sir, they are. Requesting permission to proceed through the 
wormhole."
	For a moment the hologram hesitated. Beniga could only guess to why- it 
was possible that the wormhole really was a destructive force and would tear the 
Star Destroyer apart upon entry. 
	"Permission granted Admiral. Remember, bring our fighters back, carry out 
a brief recon of the area, and return."
	"Understood. Beniga out."
	Taking a breath to steel himself, Beniga exhaled slowly.
	"Navigation, take us into the wormhole."
	"Aye sir."
	Nerves trembled as the ship approached the mouth of the aperture. It was a 
swirling mass of blues and greens, reds and oranges, all mixing and fusing 
together. The sight seemed to swell to take up the entire field of view as the 
Raven sped toward it.
	As the ship passed into the wormhole, the Bridge crew (and anyone with the 
fortune to be at a window) were left amazed, open-mouthed. Their passage was 
lined by visible eddies and currents, rings of energy and ran over the Raven as 
the ship moved.  The currents weren't placid either, the ship shuddered and 
rocked with each new wave of energy, enough for everyone to hold onto their 
consoles or chairs. Beniga ordered the ship's sensors on full record, to get 
every detail of this remarkable phenomenon.
	Then he settled back, enjoying this remarkable ride.
	
	"What's their condition?" 
	Bashir turned around, a little startled by his captain's sudden arrival. 
He gestured to four bio-beds, each with one of the pilots of the small fighters 
laying on it. Above their heads, a monitor displayed constantly updating 
readouts of their status.
	"Stable, and getting stronger all the time. The damage to their systems 
wasn't as great as I feared. I think their flight suits gave them protection 
from most the energy discharge that they went through."
	Sisko prowled around the bio-beds, his eyes examining each patient.
	"Can you wake them?" He asked.
	Bashir frowned in thought for a moment.
	"I could, though to do so now would leave them disorientated and most 
likely agitated, given their location. A few hours more rest, and I'd deem it 
safe."
	Sisko calmly accepted Bashir's diagnosis. If the doctor said they needed 
more time, then they needed more time.
	"Sir, has Starfleet been in touch yet?" Bashir's boyish curiosity had 
prompted him to ask, eager to know the state of play.
	"I was in contact with them only a hour ago. They're sending a fleet of 
about fifty starships to our location, and have ordered that all non-emergency 
traffic in the sector by Federation ships is to be halted. A general request has 
gone out to all civilian ships, asking that they avoid the area. Starfleet has 
also been in touch with their counterparts amongst the other main powers, 
keeping them informed of developments." 
	Bashir silently digested the news, thanking the Captain for the update, 
then returned to his patients, adjusting readouts every now and then. A few 
minutes later, he found himself dealing with one of Quark's disgruntled 
customers; something about 'promises not kept', and a subsequent scuffle.
	
	With a few hours to wait for both the arrival of the fleet and the full 
recovery of Bashir's patients, Sisko found himself yet again playing the waiting 
game. He strolled through the habitat ring to his quarters, choosing to get some 
relaxation before things (in all likelihood) when hay-wire. Flopping onto the 
couch, Sisko stretched, yawned, and realised that between the Borg and the 
wormhole's bizarre behaviour, he was feeling exhausted. 
	No sooner had he stretched out over the couch than his comm-badge bleeped.  
Stifling a groan, he activated the communicator.
	"Sisko here, go ahead."
	"Ben." Came Jadzia's voice, more high-pitched than normal. "I think you 
should up to Ops, and fast."
	Sisko sat up.
	"What's happened Old Man?"
	"A ship has come through the wormhole. A big ship."
	Sisko was out the door before Jadzia had finished her sentence.
	"On my way."
	
	Jadzia hadn't been wrong when she judged the ship to be big. 
	Running his eyes over it, the first word that popped into Sisko's head was 
'juggernaut'. According to one or two brief scans by Dax, the ship was roughly a 
mile long, whilst it had a wedge-shaped appearance, hull a light grey.
	Sensibly, Dax hadn't ran any detailed scans- some perceived this an 
aggressive, invasive act, others even opened fire because of it.
	"Report, have they made any attempts to communicate, or to scan us?" Asked 
the Captain.
	"Negative." Came Major Kira's voice as she walked around Dax's station to 
join Sisko in the centre of Ops. "They've not made any moves so far."
	"Have we been scanned?"
	"No, so far they've ran a broad-ranged scan of the whole area, but no more 
than that."
	Again, sensible tactics on the part of whoever was in command of the alien 
ship.  They were as much in the dark as Sisko and his crew were, and didn't want 
to risk provocation of an unknown quantity. 
	"Sir, some of the hull readings match those of the fighter craft we 
recovered. It wouldn't surprise me if this is their mother ship, for lack of a 
better term." Said O'Brien, seated at the Operations station.
	"Any attempts made to communicate?"
	"None."
	"Hmmm…. Well, sooner or later, they'll detect their fighters and know that 
we have their people. They'll probably want answers as well, I know I would. 
Lets open a channel, let them know who we are." An anticipatory smile emerged on 
Sisko's face; though he suspected the crew of the unknown ship to be human, 
there was still much that was strange, much to learn.
	O'Brien dutifully opened communications, and nodded to Sisko that the 
channel was active.
	"This Captain Benjamin Sisko of the Federation station Deep Space Nine to 
unidentified vessel. Please identify yourselves."
	
	The Bridge of the Raven was quiet, save for the background hum of consoles 
and conduits. Upon entry to this new location, sensors had picked up the 
fighters- as well as a large space station of some kind. Gregari had wanted to 
run a detailed scan, but Beniga didn't want to risk provoking the occupants of 
the station. Who knew what kind of weaponry they had?
	Now the station had sent a message. A voice message, and the computer was 
insisting it was a human voice.
	"How should I respond sir?" Asked a nervous communications officer.
	"A good question. How do you think we should answer Gregari?" Asked Beniga 
with a smile on his lips.
	The commander scratched his chin thoughtfully.
	"We shouldn't give too much away. We should proceed with diplomacy, rather 
than firepower, after all, we don't know what that station is capable of."
	Beniga nodded with approval, inwardly pleased that the commander was 
capable of learning.
	"Correct Commander. They have our people, in effect our fighter pilots are 
at their mercy. We shall appeal to their good graces. Communications, run their 
message through the translator, then open a channel, voice only."
	A few seconds later, the communications officer reported that translation 
was complete, and that a channel was open.
	This is it, contact, with a race across the void. 
	"This is Admiral Beniga, of the Galactic Empire. We have come in search of 
a small group of fighters that disappeared into a wormhole. We followed them 
through, and have emerged here. Our sensors have located our fighters onboard 
your station. We can only hope you have our pilots too."
	Silence, as Captain Sisko no doubt considered his reply. Gregari looked 
visibly tense, and Beniga felt his stomach tighten, ever so slightly.
	"Yes, we have your pilots. They were injured from their passage through 
the wormhole, and we're treating them. They'll be conscious in a few hours."
	The typical fear that a commander felt for his troops sunk away, allowing 
Beniga to relax an inch. His worries were further relieved by the evident 
compassion of his pilots holders, who had supplied medical treatment without 
question.
	"On behalf of the Empire, I offer my thanks for your kind treatment of our 
people.  Would I be permitted to come aboard your station to see them?" 
	Another pause. Again it was likely that Sisko was thinking the request 
over.
	"We have no objection to that."
	The knot in the Admiral's stomach gave way further. He would have sighed 
from relief, except that would have given away his feelings to this Sisko 
character.
	"Thank you Captain. We'll be sending over a shuttle shortly."
	"Acknowledged, Deep Space Nine out."
	Allowing himself that sigh, Beniga rose from his command seat, intent on 
leaving the Bridge. He was stopped by a piercing look from Gregari. 
	"Is there something wrong Commander?" Asked Beniga, unable to keep a 
slight smile from his lips. He knew what Gregari was about to say.
	"Sir, is it wise that you go? We don't know anything about these people."
	The Admiral chuckled. His suspicions were correct.
	"Don't worry Commander, I'll be taking security personnel with me. If 
anything happens, then storm the station and take our people back, but I don't 
believe anything will happen. You're in command."
	With that, Beniga left the Bridge, deep in thought. 
	As he made his way via lifts and corridors to the Raven's carnivorous 
hanger (where a pair of stormtroopers were en-route to) he had a few moments to 
privately think about things. 
	Humans! Humans in an unknown part of the galaxy, perhaps even a new 
galaxy.  A totally alien technology of unknown capabilities. A people apparently 
capable of great compassion (after all, they'd provided aid to completely 
unknown fighter pilots). What other surprises awaited on the station?
	
	Upon entry to the hanger, the troopers joined Beniga, and together boarded 
the shuttle. Slowly and gracefully, the shuttle flew from the underbelly of the 
Star Destroyer, making it's way to a landing pad on the station. Touching down 
gently, the wings folded upwards, and then someone on the station lowered the 
pad, a panel sealing it from the vacuum of space.
	By now Beniga was nervous, but masked his feelings with the years of 
Imperial experience and his considerable spirit. He allowed the troopers to step 
off the shuttle first, assuming flanking positions as Beniga followed.
	A red, round hatch rolled open in front of them, followed by another 
behind it.  Behind the second hatch, stood a tall, dark-skinned man, with a 
distinct lack of hair, save for a small beard. A red-haired woman, with a 
matching uniform (very much different from the man's black uniform with grey 
shoulder line; the only splash of colour, a red neck line with four gold pips) 
stood next to him on his left, and a second man, pale- skinned and smaller of 
build, with blue in place of red, stood slightly behind the first two, to the 
right.
	Keeping calm, Beniga walked through the hatches, his troopers following 
behind him.
	"I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko, commander of Deep Space Nine." Said the bald 
man. "This is Major Kira, of the Bajoran militia, and Doctor Julian Bashir, the 
man who's been looking after your people." Sisko gestured to his officers.
	"Firstly, may I thank you Doctor, on behalf of the Empire, for your 
treatment of my people. Secondly, may I extend greetings to you Captain, on 
behalf of the Empire, and of myself, Admiral Beniga." He thrust out a hand, 
which Sisko shook cordially. 
	"Now that the formal greeting is out of the way, I trust you'd like to see 
your people?" Asked Sisko softly.
	"Yes Captain."
	Sisko gestured to his Doctor. 
	"Lead the way Doctor."
	As Beniga stepped fully from the hatch, he noticed two more officers, 
dressed as Sisko, except with gold for the neck line. Both had some sort of tool 
holstered to their sides… realisation hit him, they were carrying weapons.
	Security forces? Mused Beniga to himself. No wonder they weren't 
unperturbed by the stormtroopers. 
	Doctor Bashir led the party down a fairly long, non-descript corridor, 
marked by various doors. Occasionally another officer, either in Sisko's 
uniform, or one similar to Kira's would walk by, as would people in more relaxed 
clothing, most likely civilians.
	A larger door waited at the end of one of the corridors, which opened into 
a much wider, and much busier area. A variety of characters, some human, some 
definitely not human, were moving in and out of shops and establishments, as 
officers bustled past.  Some were consulting displays of some kind, others were 
enjoying a beverage at a very busy bar, manned by a short man with a very large 
cranium and enormous ears, who appeared to be muttering to himself.
	At the far end of one side of the walkway, the doctor led them all into a 
medical bay. Equipment hummed, and a couple of nurses moved from location to 
location to monitor readouts and check on patients.
	"I had your people moved to their own ward, if you'll follow me." Asked 
Bashir quietly.
	Dutifully trailing the doctor, Beniga entered the ward with Captain Sisko 
behind him, gesturing for his stormtroopers to hang back. Sisko's security 
guards did the same.
	"At present their systems are still recovering from the energy discharge 
they experienced. They could be awakened now, but they'd be groggy and 
disorientated. I'd rather give them about another three hours before attempting 
to awaken them." Bashir checked the readouts as he spoke.
	"How would you feel about moving them Doctor?" Asked Beniga.
	Bashir hesitated for a moment.
	"I'd reluctant to suggest moving them as yet, though they can be moved, as 
long as the proper precautions are taken."
	Beniga turned to Sisko, his next question forming on his lips before he'd 
even thought it.
	"Captain, I'd like to move my men to my ship. They'll be more comfortable 
if they awaken in familiar surroundings."
	Sisko looked at Bashir, who nodded.
	"As my chief medical officer has no objects, neither do I."
	"I'll see to the arrangements immediately." Said Bashir, leaving the room.
	Next followed an awkward silence. Beniga was bursting with questions, and 
the look in Sisko's eyes was plain to see; the captain was as eager to know more 
about the situation as he was.
	"Once again Captain I extend my thanks for your care of my people. Now, I 
have to admit, I'd like to learn more about yours." Beniga circled the bio-beds, 
deciding there was little to gain from masking an understandable curiosity.
	Sisko simply nodded.
	"There's much I'd like to know as well. There are conference facilities 
onboard this station that are at your disposal, as well as computer records of 
our history and culture."
	Slowly Beniga walked from the ward, and out into the walkway, watching the 
various aliens walk past on their business. 
	"I confess that I am at a loss as to where to begin. There are several 
topics that are competing for attention, namely, the discovery of humans in what 
could be another galaxy, the wormhole, what this federation is… it's the 
greatest find in Imperial history!"
	"I must admit, of all the things I expected to come out that wormhole, a 
ship full of humans wasn't one of them."
	"Captain, I need to return to my ship. I have to consult my superiors, 
arrange a diplomatic envoy. I have no doubt that the Empire will wish to learn 
more about your Federation, and to establish relations as soon as is 
convenient."
	"Of course. How long do you think you'll be?" Asked Sisko.
	"A matter of days certainly." Replied the Admiral, as he and his troopers, 
accompanied by Sisko, began the journey back to the hanger bay. "Why do you 
ask?"
	Beniga's eyes were caught momentarily by a pair of blue-skinned aliens 
with stalks sticking out of their foreheads, but returned his attention back to 
Sisko when the other man spoke.
	"I'll need to arrange for a diplomatic team of our own, given the 
bureaucracy I sometimes have to deal with, that might take a few days as well." 
Sisko cracked a smile.  "Oh, and those blue-skinned aliens, Andorians. One of 
the founding member races of the Federation."
	"This Federation seems to be a diverse mix, not unlike the Old Republic." 
For a moment a touch of wistfulness crept into Beniga's voice, before he 
remembered his loyalties. "I shall look forward to returning here, to learn more 
of your society."
	"We'll eagerly await your arrival. I'm sure we'll have much to discuss. At 
the moment, I'm not sure where to start." Sisko gestured at the hatch; it seemed 
the walk to the shuttle had been shorter than the walk earlier. 
	One of the tricks of a distracted mind, mused Beniga, stepping through the 
airlock with his Stormtroopers. He turned, saying a brief farewell to Captain 
Sisko, noting his fighter pilots were already aboard, and proceeded to board the 
shuttle himself. 
	The shuttle blasted upwards, then swam gracefully through space to it's 
home.
	
	"This is big Ben. Every major government in the Alpha Quadrant is whipped 
up about the wormhole's behaviour. The Romulans are convinced we're testing a 
new weapon of some kind, and the Klingons think so too- the Klingons want to 
know why we haven't used it on the Romulans yet." Admiral Ross broke into a wry 
smile, trying (and failing) to mask the stress of dozens of diplomatic messages 
that were flying around. Up till then, Sisko had been pacing his desk, but 
decided to stop boring a hole in his floor, and sat down.
	"I have to say Admiral, I'm concerned at Starfleet's decision to pull the 
fleet away.  We were told fifty ships would be heading to reinforce our 
position. All I count are twenty-five."
	Ross stifled a sigh. Evidently he had expected this.
	"Starfleet feels that the station's already formidable defences, along 
with twenty- five ships, is enough to handle anything the Klingons or Romulans 
might try. The rest of those ships are being redeployed along the 
Federation/Klingon border, on the section closest to Bajor. Command fleets that 
if anything happens, it will be the Klingons who start it. But enough of the 
politics of the Alpha Quadrant, what of this new ship? I got around to reading 
your report about an hour ago. Fascinating stuff."
	"We didn't take too many scans, but it's one thousand six hundred metres 
long, for a start, and has a great many ports, possibly weapons ports. How 
powerful those weapons are, we don't know. It has two visible hanger bays, one 
small, one large.  Massive engines of unknown power. Its design suggests a 
warship, what with a narrow forward profile." Sisko avoided rubbing his nose in 
front of the Admiral. He'd been over the report half a dozen times in the past 
hour, satisfying the whim of one Admiral after another.
	On the monitor, Ross leaned back, digesting the information as though it 
were brand new to him.
	"Needless to say Ben, it's important that on their next visit, we learn 
more about them. How fast are their ships? How powerful is their weaponry? We 
also need to learn more about them as a people. This Empire that they serve, is 
it benign, a potential ally, or should we try to blow the wormhole to pieces the 
moment they leave?"
	"Good questions Admiral. I'll endeavour to have a few answers for you when 
Beniga and his team return." Said Sisko.
	"Good. Oh, before I go, there's one last thing to mention, something 
important.  The closest ambassador is over a week away; a mission to Tholian 
space to iron out a proper peace treaty. She'll be en-route as soon as her 
business is concluded, but until then we're sending someone else, someone 
experienced with first contact and diplomatic procedure…" Ross hesitated, 
clueing Sisko in to the notion that he wouldn't like what was coming. "Captain 
Picard will be with you in roughly twenty-seven hours. He's been briefed and has 
read your report." Up until then, Ross had been business-like, now his 
expression softened.
	"Ben, I know that Deep Space Nine is your frontier, and that you've 
handled more first contacts in the past five years than many officers handle in 
twenty; we're honestly not trying to wrench away your authority on this one. DS9 
is still your station and your command. However, it's felt that Picard's 
considerable experience will be invaluable on this one. I know you have your 
history with him, but I also know you're a fine Captain who'll keep that under 
wraps. Well, gotta go, Ross out."
	Before Sisko could mount a reply, the monitor switched over to the 
Federation crescent, leaving the captain with mixed feels of anger, insecurity 
and humiliation. Ross had been right, it was his station and he had already made 
contact. 
	Leaving his office, Sisko circled Ops like a tiger on the hunt, until he 
caught the eye of Dax, who had been busying herself with readouts on the 
wormhole. His gaze betrayed the pent up… frustration he was feeling, and he 
moved quickly to the turbolift.  He didn't feel like talking at that moment, but 
that didn't stop Dax from darting into the lift with him, even though she could 
see Sisko's emotions boiling away.
	"Promenade." Grated Sisko. With a jolt the lift came to life.
	For a moment, the pair travelled in silence. However, that didn't last 
long.
	"Let me guess, conversation after conversation with the brass taking it's 
toll?"  Asked Dax pleasantly. Sisko simply glowered.
	"Hmm, ok, guess number two, we're not getting any more ships to support 
us?" 
	"That's a small worry." Growled Sisko. "This is much more personal, if you 
ask me."
	"Well, you entered your office looking reasonably perky. Well, as perky as 
one can be with juggernauts coming and going. You left your office with a face 
like thunder.  Did Ross give you a pay cut or something?" Somehow, despite the 
mood radiating from Sisko, Dax managed to maintain a twinkle in her eyes.
	The lift halted at the Promenade, saving Sisko from an immediate reply. He 
had wanted to argue his points to Admiral Ross, but the good Admiral had made 
sure to cut communications quickly. In a flash old wounds and new ones had 
opened; he wanted to vent, but not at his friend.
	Dax maintained her usual pristine appearance and calm walk, hands clasped 
behind her back, as she walked beside Sisko. Her silence was more maddening than 
if she was asking questions. 
	Sticking to Sisko like glue, Dax followed him from one end of the 
Promenade to the other, in and out of the various shops. It was evident that she 
was not going to go away until Sisko explained his sudden mood change.
	"All right old man, lets take a seat at Quarks." He snapped, leading them 
to Quark's establishment. It was evening by the station's clocks, and the bar 
was only just starting to fill up. Sisko easily grabbed a table and parked 
himself into a chair.
	"Ok Dax, it would seem that Command doesn't consider me experienced enough 
to handle this situation. Rather than have me fill in till the ambassador 
arrives, they're sending a more 'seasoned' captain. It totally undermines my 
authority here, no matter what the Admiralty says!"
	Dax frowned in thought, then leaned in.
	"Who are they sending?"
	Leaning away, Sisko closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. 
	"Captain Picard." He muttered, rubbing harder.
	"I see." Replied Dax after a moment. "Well, he does have arguably more 
experience than anyone else in the fleet."
	"Dammit, I made the initial contact fine! Why doesn't command trust me to 
handle things now?" Frustration spilled the words from Sisko as he grabbled to 
understand the situation.
	"I don't think it's a matter of trust. Starfleet trusts you enough to 
handle a new first contact every other day. To walk the minefield of Bajoran 
politics and Gowron's new invasion policies. I guess they simply think for this, 
they want someone with greater experience. That's all. Now." Dax leaned in, 
softening her voice. "Are you sure this isn't so much to do with that fact that 
there's another captain coming in, rather that it's this particular captain?"
	There were times when Sisko wanted to hate Dax. She had a nose for being 
shrewd.
	"I know what you're getting at old man, and that's not an issue anymore. 
As bad as it was, what I went through, for Picard, it must have been… 
indescribable." Sisko lowered his voice to match Dax's.
	"Even now Benjamin, these feelings can linger. In your brain, your mind, 
you know Picard isn't to blame, but in your heart, the heart that loved 
Jennifer, are you sure there's not a part that refuses to let go of all that old 
passion?" Now Dax's eyes were dark pools of compassion and friendship, but Sisko 
couldn't bring himself to admit what she was getting at. It was preposterous. 
Picard wasn't to blame for the death of his wife, or any of the lives lost at 
Wolf 359. He had been a slave in his own body, forced to commit acts that would 
have eaten at his very soul.
	No, Sisko wasn't angry with Picard.
	Before he could reply, Sisko was interrupted by Quark, the short, 
eccentrically dressed owner of the bar. 
	"A private Starfleet chat in a public place? Captain, Commander, you know 
this place isn't ideal for high level security talk."
	"More than ideal for high level criminal talk though." Said Dax haughtily.
	"What do you want Quark?" Asked Sisko irritably. 
	Brushing over Sisko's mood, Quark pulled out his padd.
	"Drinks anyone? You are taking up table space, so I assume you're going to 
be paying for something?"
	"No thanks Quark." Replied Sisko. He stood, and left with Dax, leaving 
behind a both mildly disgruntled and mildly happy Ferengi.
	
	Twenty-four hours of non-stop debriefings and analysis was becoming 
tiresome, to say the least. All Beniga wanted to do was to get some sleep, 
before even his considerable patience was tested.
	On the bright side, there was one last meeting, with Grand Moff Tarkin and 
Lord Vader. Well, if one could call that a bright side…
	The doors of the meeting chamber opened, allowing the hollow-cheeked Grand 
Moff, and the masked Vader entry. Neither spoke as they took seats at the 
opposite end of the table.
	"Admiral Beniga, you must be tired, so we will keep this brief. Firstly, 
well done on the retrieval of our pilots. Secondly, in your own words, a brief 
overview of what you discovered." Tarkin clasped his hands and waited for a 
reply.
	Sucking in a breath, Beniga considered where to begin. Although his visit 
to Deep Space Nine had been short, there had been much to see.
	"Well sir, upon arrival to this new location, we detected a large station, 
a little over the length of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Erring on the side of 
caution, I did not order any invasive scans of the station, in case the 
occupants reacted badly and proved more advanced than ourselves. On our second 
trip, I expect we can take more detailed scans. 
	There is a command structure in place that does not appear to be too 
dissimilar to our own, though the station is under the joint jurisdiction of a 
race called the Bajorans, and a government calling itself the United Federation 
of Planets. 
	A great many different alien life-forms were aboard the station, though as 
visitors or residents, I don't know. It appears to be a civilian outpost with a 
military garrison stationed there. 
	Perhaps the most remarkable information is the fact that many of the 
officers working for an organisation called Starfleet- who I surmise to be the 
space-faring wing the Federation- were human. At least, they matched our 
appearance exactly. At this moment, I cannot offer explanation as to how humans 
are present on the other side of the wormhole, or why." Beniga stopped, having 
explained as much as he could.
	"Very good Admiral. Now, go and get some sleep. Seven hours worth, no 
less.  We'll need you to be sharp upon your return visit." Said Tarkin formally.
	"Very good sir."
	"Dismissed."
	Beniga rose and swiftly left; though not afraid of Vader per se, there was 
always a cold feeling in his stomach when near the Sith lord.
	Once the door had closed, Tarkin stood and walked slowly from one end of 
the room to the other, deep in thought. There was much to consider, and little 
time to consider it all.
	"Quite a discovery." Tarkin summed up his thoughts with that simple 
sentence.  Vader remained silent.
	Turning, Tarkin faced his friend.
	"Tell me, has the Force given you any insights into this situation? Any 
clues as to what we're dealing with?"
	"I cannot sense them from this distance. I would have to travel through 
the wormhole and meet them."
	"Mmm. Well, at the moment, I don't want to risk one of the Empire's most 
important officials. Admiral Beniga will be more than competent to look after 
the diplomats and carry out recon." Tarkin paused, mulling over the information 
they needed.
	"The foremost thing we need to know is if they're hostile. We also need to 
establish what their capabilities are. We need someone trained in the Force, yet 
someone who can be inconspicuous. Not meaning you offence my friend, but you 
don't exactly fit into a crowd unnoticed."
	Vader made a sound that could have been a snort of amusement, but the mask 
clouded what the noise really was. Tarkin shook off the notion of Vader 
expressing amusement; he knew his friend too well.
	"I know just the person. Mara Jade. She is trained in the Force, and eager 
to prove herself." Hummed Vader.
	"Not too eager I hope. This is a high-risk mission, that needs control and 
quiet skill, not reckless enthusiasm."
	"She is a wielder of the Force. She will have control." Growled Vader. 
	Sitting down in Beniga's vacated chair, Tarkin fell deep into thought. He 
wanted to see this new galaxy, this human civilisation in a new frontier. One of 
the prices of rising through the ranks seemed too often to be that for all the 
power he wielded, the 'hands on' aspect of Imperial service was lost. His 
officers were shielding him from danger, or potential danger. It was gratifying 
in some ways, to be considered to be that important, but frustrating in others, 
as he was denied the chance to embrace new experiences, such as the wormhole.
	On other other side of the table, Vader was all too aware of his friend's 
thoughts.  He didn't have the problem of being shielded, for few would dare to 
assume a Sith lord needed protecting. Besides, he could easily handle what came 
his way. How would it feel to be so regarded, yet so tied down at the same time?
	"Well, we had best return to our command locations. I expect we'll have to 
welcome the ambassadors and politicians when they arrive. It's a shame Lord 
Vader, that the Emperor doesn't allow you to dispose of some of those snakes." 
Tarkin flashed a small, evil smile.
	"Indeed."
	
	Time was passing slowly as ships arrived with personnel and equipment for 
the Death Star, and the diplomats were briefed. Tarkin and Beniga led the 
briefings, neither of them thrilled with their duty, whilst Vader maintained a 
quiet presence, a symbol of the Emperor, warning against betrayal.
	Assembling a diplomatic team had proven to be quite a challenge, given the 
Empire's complete control over the galaxy, there hadn't been a need for 
diplomacy for over twenty years. Senators and high ranking military officers 
were making up the core of the team so far, along with the silent, solitary Mara 
Jade.
	Ever since her arrival, the Force had been pulsing with her embryonic 
powers, her sense of anger. She was nowhere near Vader in terms of her 
abilities, or her feelings (yet), but she was getting stronger all the time. For 
now though, her ability to slip into a crowd (and out again) was vital. 
	A fresh surge of anger washed through Vader. He, the Emperor's right hand 
man, had been passed up for this assignment, with it instead going to an 
upstart! He was angry with his own anger, with his powers, for they were so 
strong now that he couldn't wield the Force with the subtlety of the past.
	For longer than he could remember, Vader had been ruled by his hate. It 
was his fuel for the fire, the reason he could do what he did. People feared him 
before they even met him; the mere mention of his name could make grown men 
tremble. Many simply obeyed him without question, falling over themselves to be 
of service.
	The price for that kind of obedience was high. No one wanted to be near 
Vader.  No one wanted to talk to him or to be his friend. All the people he had 
known when he was young, were gone. Some had died at his hand.
	Only one person truly understood him- Emperor Palpatine was his anchor to 
reason, to stability. Palpatine had showed him how to unlock the true power of 
the Force, and how to use that power, to control it. Grateful for that, Vader 
was devoted to his master.
	Jade's eyes met Vader's face, and for a moment the Force exposed his 
turbulent feelings, before he reigned them in again. Jade shuddered, the heat of 
Vader's anger too much for her to contemplate.
	Tarkin rejoined the Sith Lord, the lines on his face more etched than 
usual; clearly the duty of briefing ambassadors was a straining one.
	"If I never see another diplomat or attaché again, it will be too soon. 
Still, everything has been explained to them. Perhaps now we can all get some 
rest before the trip."
	One by one, the members of the team were shuffling out of the room and to 
the hanger bay, where they would be transported over to the Star Destroyer 
Raven. Shuttles were zipping around the Star Destroyer and her support ships 
like frenzied bees, the Nebulon-B Frigates Emperor's Hand and Relic also being 
prepped for departure. 
	Tarkin observed the activity from a window a few minutes later, deep in 
thought about the Federation.
	The key things to determine were their potential as enemies, and their 
potential as citizens of the Empire. The Empire did not want or need to find a 
hornet's nest of advanced, aggressive aliens that would seek to undermine them, 
so it was important to establish the capabilities of the Federation. 
	If it proved that the Federation was a danger, or potential danger, then 
Tarkin had two schools of thought. Number one, they could collapse the wormhole. 
However, that would prove difficult. It's matrix was extremely powerful, perhaps 
strong enough to handle a Death Star blast.
	Option two was to invade the Federation. To take over their worlds and 
destroy their infrastructure. The threat would be neutralised, and the Empire 
would have a foothold in a new galaxy.
	Another worry was of the Rebellion. So far the band of misfits hadn't 
seriously threatened the Empire, but there was the possibility of them learning 
of this Federation and exploiting the situation to their advantage.
	Silently, Lord Vader took his place at Tarkin's side, as ever unreadable 
in terms of what he was thinking.
	"Tell me my friend, does the Force offer any insights as to what we will 
find?"  Asked Tarkin quietly.
	"Even for the Force, the distance is too great to offer any insights." 
Typically a short reply from the Sith Lord.
	"You are concerned of the Rebellion." Rumbled Vader. 
	Tarkin frowned slightly. Vader was a friend of sorts, and a highly 
respected (or feared, as the case may be) servant of the Empire, but that didn't 
mean Tarkin had to like having him poke around in his head.
	"I thought it was poor form to scan the mind of a comrade." Snapped 
Tarkin.
	"Forgive me, but the thought was the most recent in your mind."
	"Hmm… well, it's true, at any rate. So far the Rebels have caused no great 
harm, save for one or two random attacks on planetary garrisons and some smaller 
vessels.  Still, imagine the consequences of them finding the wormhole and 
gaining fresh allies from a new galaxy, where we might not be able to touch 
them. Not that it matters. Soon a deployment of Star Destroyers, Lancer Frigates 
and Carrack Cruisers will be here to defend this sector. Now…" Tarkin faced 
Vader. "… the Emperor still wants us to continue with the testing of this battle 
station. A planet of habitable mass is being out- fitted with a planetary shield 
grid, for us to test the primary weapon again. As soon as the diplomatic team 
has departed, we are to be on our way."
	"We will do as the Emperor wishes."
	"Indeed we shall."
	
	The Raven came about, facing the wormhole, flanked by Emperor's Hand and 
Relic. Beniga reflected for a brief moment that he might not see home again, if 
this mission went badly, but pushed away the thought. Whatever happened 
happened, and he could not change that.
	Gregari seemed to be buzzing with energy, moving from station to station, 
issuing a stream of orders over the comm. Link. To be young again… Beniga again 
stopped himself from dwelling on things. He had a mission to focus on, perhaps 
the most important mission anyone had ever be asked to do.
	"All hands report ready, the Frigates are also reporting ready." Announced 
Communications.
	"Excellent. Helm, move us into the wormhole, one half sublight."
	On Beniga's order, the ships once again headed across the universe.
	
	With the main diplomatic team still over a day away, the Enterprise-E took 
up it's mooring at Deep Space Nine's Upper Pylon Three, swan-like and sweeping 
in appearance, gracefully sliding into port. A moment later, the crew of the 
station were given a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, as the Defiant de-cloaked, 
and also docked. Jadzia rushed from Ops to the Defiant, keen to see Worf, as 
Sisko, Chief O'Brien, Major Kira and Security Chief Odo made their way to Upper 
Pylon Three, to welcome Captain Picard.
	The walk was a long one, at least it felt long. Professionally, Sisko was 
cool and calm, even if on a personal level, he felt slighted by Command. The 
trick was to not let Picard or his crew know how he felt about it all, 
especially Picard.
	The greetings, upon taking place, proceeded amicably enough, with O'Brien 
sharing jokes with the Enterprise's other disembarkers, Lt. Commander Data and 
Chief Engineer La Forge. Afterward, the Enterprise officers were shown the 
conference rooms that they would be using to hold talks with the Imperial 
officials, and then Major Kira and Odo whisked them away for a tour of the 
station. Sisko, grateful for Kira's tour idea (that she'd suggested earlier in 
the day), retired to his quarters, determined to get a few hours rest before the 
Imperials arrived and the station became a circus.



Chapter 3

	Sleep is definitely a commodity in my line of work, thought Beniga to 
himself, as he thought of the frantic days that had led up to his return to this 
new space.  
	His first officer, Commander Gregari was standing, as usual looking proud 
and militant.  On Communications, Lieutenant Duiek, young and inexperienced, 
looked pale, with bags under his eyes.  
	Over at the Engineering station, Lt. Commander Jos was immersed in his 
readouts, looking naturally pale (as opposed to Duiek's normal look, red-faced 
and sweaty).  Tall and lanky, he was going over the information again and again, 
determined to learn as much as possible about the wormhole.
	It was the craving for knowledge that had first made Beniga take Jos 
onboard.  Someone who would relentlessly seek out answers on both a scientific 
and engineering level, Jos had an understanding of such things that Beniga 
wanted to have a grasp of; Beniga was smart enough to know where he was lacking, 
and smart enough to spot the officers that filled the information gaps he had.
	"You know, this wormhole is incredible.  It's extremely strong, to the 
order of several million teratons.  At least, I think it is.  The energy 
readouts go off the scale at a lower level than that." Murmured Jos, to no one 
in particular.  Gregari snickered; unlike Beniga, he considered knowing the 
how's and why's to be unimportant.  Only serving the Emperor mattered, and he 
already knew how to do that.
	In a matter of moments, the Raven and her support ships, Emperor's Hand 
and Relic would emerge into the new territory once again, to be greeted by the 
oddly constructed Deep Space Nine.  Once there, intelligence gathering, both in 
the guise of efforts to establish diplomatic relations, and in spy work, would 
begin.  Beniga's primary orders- to determine if this Federation was a threat- 
was ringing loud in his head.
	"ETA?" He asked Navigation, manned by Lieutenant Grojaer, a dark-skinned, 
strong-armed man, with a thin scar on his left palm.
	"Four minutes sir."
	Four minutes to think and strategise, thought Beniga.

	Alone in his ready room, Captain Picard mulled over the reports of Captain 
Sisko and the Admiralty, digesting every last piece of information.  A ship 
larger than anything seen before, humans from another part of the galaxy, 
possibly another galaxy.  A typical military command structure, of ensigns and 
admirals… 
	Picard caught himself.  The words might translate as the same through the 
Universal Translator, but to assume they meant the same, when dealing with a new 
culture, even one that appeared to have been created by humans, was foolish.  
There was simply not enough information to make any judgements.
	Time to prepare was running short.  Picard made his way from the ready 
room to the airlock, moving quickly.  En-route he contacted Counsellor Troi and 
told her to meet him at the airlock, which she duly did.
	Captain Sisko and Major Kira greeted them as they set foot on Deep Space 
Nine, and together they proceeded to the runabout pad where the Imperial's 
shuttle would be landing.  Kira occasionally mentioned something to Sisko about 
the station's business for the day, and Sisko muttered a response, but Picard 
got the impression that he was not particularly welcome on Deep Space Nine.  He 
had his theories as to why, and made a note to try and speak to Sisko at some 
stage.
	"Dax to Sisko, sir, the Imperial ship has just emerged from the wormhole.  
They are requesting permission to send over their team." 
	"Permission granted.  Are all the security procedures in place?" Sisko 
asked.
	"Yes sir.  If any other government tries anything, we'll be ready."
	"Good, Sisko out."
	Everyone waited in a slightly tense, slightly nervous silence, for the 
shuttle to land.  Picard caught a glimpse on the monitor as the shuttle's wings 
folded, and the craft touched down.  Next the platform lowered, and sealed over.  
The bay was pressurised, and the Imperials marched from the shuttle.
	Picard recognised Admiral Beniga from the security tapes of his earlier 
visit to the station.  As the airlock slid open, Picard noticed several other 
people.
	The introductions began.  A tall, blond-haired man was named as Commander 
Gregari, and a young, flame-haired woman named as Mara Jade.  Gregari seemed 
very assured of himself, and almost seemed to sneer at the Federation officers.
	Mara Jade's eyes matched her hair.  They seemed to bore into everyone, 
even Beniga and Gregari, with an intensity that would have made Picard's hair 
stand up, if he'd had more of it.
	Also travelling as part of the Imperial party were a number of 
politicians.  At least, they bickered amongst themselves like politicians.  
There were five in total, three male, two female, and they were all human, of 
various ages and sizes.
	Beniga explained that the diplomats wished to see the station and it's 
populace, and to learn about how the Federation worked.  It was agreed that four 
would tour the station, whilst one would join Captain Picard and Counsellor 
Troi, and answer any questions on the Empire.
	"I'll see to our guests tour." Said Sisko quietly, ushering them to follow 
him.
	"You're not taking part in this meeting Captain?" Asked Beniga 
inquisitively.
	"I'm afraid not Admiral, however, Captain Picard has a great deal of 
experience, and is accomplished in diplomacy." Replied Sisko evenly.  Still, 
Beniga couldn't help but pick up on a bit of friction there.
	"If you'll follow me." Said Picard to the team that would be joining him: 
Beniga, Gregari, Jade, and Ambassador Tolik, a middle-aged man with greying 
hair.
	Deep Space Nine's conference room came complete with a replicator for food 
and drink, and the chairs were more comfortable than those elsewhere.  Two 
monitors allowed for everyone to see when any graphics and information were 
displayed.  Everyone took a seat, aside from Picard, who ordered two pitchers of 
water and some glasses from the replicator.
	Once Picard was settled, he opened the talks.
	"First of all, welcome back to Federation space.  I apologise that you are 
not dealing with someone more ranking than myself, but our main diplomatic team 
has been delayed.  In the meantime, I will be serving as ambassador.  Now, let 
us begin our talks."
	Beniga leaned forward.
	"Firstly, I have to say, that the Empire was surprised to find a human 
society, in what must be either the very fringes of the galaxy, or a new galaxy.  
Myself and our ambassadors have so many questions, we have no idea where to 
begin.  However, diplomacy cannot proceed without questions, so I might as well 
ask one.  How big is the Federation?"
	Picard smiled slightly.  "There are one-hundred and fifty member worlds, 
in addition over a thousand smaller colonies and outposts."
	"What do you mean by 'member' worlds?" Asked Tolik quietly.
	"The Federation is an 'opt-in', 'opt-out' government.  If a planet or 
government wishes to join the Federation, it can do so, provided it has had at 
least a century of peace, a single government, and meets certain economic and 
technological factors.  Each member world retains its autonomy for the most 
part, and sends a representative to the Federation Council.  If the planet 
should wish to leave the Federation it can do so."  
	"What benefits do planets get for joining the Federation?" Again the 
question was asked by Tolik.
	Picard took a breath.  "For one, they get protection from the Federation 
fleet.  Two, they gain access to technologies they might not have had, such as 
transporters and replicators.  Complete access to cultural and historical 
databases of the other worlds of the Federation is also granted.  Membership 
offers greater political clout in both local and inter-stellar affairs.  There 
are also economic benefits."
	"What are the philosophies of the Federation?" This time Beniga was 
asking.
	"Freedom and prosperity for all in the Federation.  Aside from the 
frontier regions, crime, poverty and disease has been eliminated on nearly all 
Federation worlds."  At that, Beniga raised an eyebrow.
	"You can't mean that.  Prosperity for what must be billions of beings?"
	"It's true.  No one goes hungry.  No one lives on the streets.  Everyone 
has a home, has free food, supplies, medicines, and free access to entertainment 
facilities.  Transportation is free."
	"Then why does anyone work?  I presume that people work within the 
Federation, to maintain everything." Tolik's third question.
	"We work to better ourselves and the Federation.  We have found ourselves 
in the position of having a wondrous society.  If we don't work to look after 
it, it will collapse."
	"Does anyone get paid?" Asked Gregari, the first time he had spoken since 
the conference had begun.
	"Well, yes and no.  Within the Federation, there is no need for money.  
Everything and just about anything is available for free.  Hence, there is no 
need for money.  However, people who work in close contact with other 
governments are often away from Federation space and require money to purchase 
whatever they might need.  Starfleet officers on this station are paid in 
latinum, a valuable metal in this region, so that they can partake in station 
life."
	The Imperials mulled over what Picard had told them for a moment, 
considered their next questions.
	"You mentioned other governments Captain.  Should we expect to meet any of 
them any time soon?" Queried Tolik.
	"That is a question I cannot answer.  The other powers of the area are 
aware of your arrival, but have made no moves toward diplomatic contact, as you 
are doubtless aware."
	"What is the Federation's relationship with the other governments of the 
region?" Asked Gregari.
	"At the moment, we are on good terms with the Cardassians, and for the 
most part, with the Romulans.  Relations have in the past been frosty in the 
past, but have been steadily improving for some time now.  We are in state of 
ambiguity regarding the Klingon Empire, who severed diplomatic ties last year." 
Picard decided against mentioning the brief war recently fought between the 
Federation and the Klingons, lest it create the wrong impression.
	Beniga smiled, clasping his hands in front of him.
	"My apologies Captain.  This part of our diplomatic efforts was meant to 
be for you to learn more of my people.  We appear to have hijacked proceedings."
	"No apology necessary.  I'm happy to answer any questions you might have, 
though I will admit, I have many of my own."
	"Then by all means Captain, ask."
	Picard thought for a moment, of the best possible starting question, then 
it came to him.
	"I have to ask Admiral, until a few days ago, we were as unaware of your 
civilisation as you were of ours.  How big is this Empire?"
	Gregari's eyes went wide with disbelief, as did Tolik's, but Beniga 
remained cool.
	"The Galactic Empire spans nearly a whole galaxy Captain.  Millions of 
worlds, trillions of beings, under the Imperial flag." He replied calmly.
	Now it was Picard's turn to be surprised, but he too kept calm.
	"What of the ideals of the Empire?"
	Tolik decided to field the question.
	"Formed only two decades ago, the Empire was committed to seeing that the 
corruption and chaos of the Republic was washed away, and replaced with an 
orderly society, where businesses did not control armies or threaten to 
undermine the authority of the legitimate government.
	Let me give you some background history Captain.  Over thirty years ago, 
when the Republic was in it's final years, powerful corporations were able to 
gain the favour of high-ranking politicians in the Senate.  The Trade Federation 
had the ear of the Chancellor himself!  The very same Federation also controlled 
a vast army of battle-droids, an army they deployed when decisions on taxes went 
against them.  They blockaded, then invaded the peaceful world of Naboo, and the 
Senate did nothing.
	Ten years later, the Trade Federation, and other businesses intent on 
maintaining their greedy ways, started a civil war that ripped the Republic 
apart.  Someone had to act to restore order and reason to the galaxy.  That 
someone was Emperor Palpatine, who to this day works to maintain order and keep 
corruption and private business out of politics.  The war is over, and the 
people are safe once again."
	Interesting, thought Picard.  A true Empire, with one ruler.
	"Emperor Palpatine appears to have done a remarkable and superb job of 
restoring peace to your galaxy." He replied.
	"That he has Captain.  If it weren't for his leadership, we would have 
anarchy." Said Tolik, admiration creeping into his voice.
	"What other governments does the Empire have to deal with?" Troi spoke for 
the first time.
	"At this moment?  Only yours.  The Republic was a galactic government, all 
by itself.  It's the same with the Empire." Responded Tolik.  "There are a small 
number of insurgences that seek to undermine the Empire and bring about a return 
to the poisonous policies of the Republic, but their influence is small.  The 
majority of our citizens see the rebels for what they are- desperate former 
senators and businessmen who miss their lives of luxury."
	Picard nodded in understanding.
	"A few years ago, the Federation finalised a peace treaty with the 
Cardassian Union.  The treaty benefited both governments, and safeguarded the 
lives of both peoples.  Unfortunately, some of the terms of the treaty meant 
that both sides had to give up territory.  Some of the people reacted badly to 
this, and have since formed a resistance group.  They prey upon shipping lanes, 
without regard to the people they kill."
	"It would seem, that some things are constants, regardless of distance." 
Remarked Beniga, cupping his hands.
	"Distance is certainly a thought- it would seem Admiral, that the 
Federation is not from your galaxy." Replied Picard.
	Excitement crept into Tolik's voice when he next spoke:
	"Yet it would appear that a large percentage of the Federation's 
population is human!  Humans, not just in a new galaxy, but thriving!  This is 
the biggest discovery in history Captain, without a doubt, the biggest!"
	"These are indeed exciting times.  The existence of the Empire is certain 
to shake up the political landscape here.  The Klingon Empire, and the Romulan 
Empire are both concerned that we were testing a new weapon on the wormhole, and 
that we've been secretly building new ships for a coming war." Picard smiled.  
"Despite over a hundred years of co-existence, of seeing our ways, they still 
suspect us of plotting wars and take-overs."
	"And does the Federation ever engage in such things?" Asked Gregari 
coolly.
	"No sir, we do not.  Naturally we have intelligence agencies to look after 
our interests and a fleet to protect our assets, but we are not in the habit of 
starting wars.  It only causes death and destruction, and is a last resort as a 
result.  We will fight to protect ourselves though."
	Leaning back in his seat, Tolik stretched, then yawned unexpectedly.  
	"Forgive me Captain, I'm just trying to absorb everything.  It takes it 
out of an old man." He grinned sheepishly.
	"Quite understandable Ambassador.  Certainly we have covered a great deal 
in a short space of time.  Perhaps we should resume matters tomorrow, once you 
have all had the chance to acclimatize to station time, and to fully take in all 
we have discussed." 
	"I agree Captain." Replied Beniga, standing.  "This discussion, along with 
what our colleagues have learned, will give us a lot to talk about tonight."
	The two teams said their goodbyes, though Mara Jade remained silent, just 
staring at everyone.  Beniga's team rejoined the others, and Sisko escorted them 
to their quarters for the night.  Unsurprisingly, there was much chatter.

	Jade, Beniga and Gregari congregated in Beniga's quarters that evening, to 
discuss everything, without Tolik's input.
	"Mara, did you sense anything, anything they didn't want to share?" Asked 
Beniga softly.
	Mara Jade closed her eyes for a moment, remembering.
	"Picard is strong of mind and will.  He revealed every little.  However, 
he did not like being pressed on matters of war.  Troi… Troi seems to have 
latent Force abilities, or is perhaps a natural telepath.  She was not actively 
probing the room for information, but she may have picked up on any stray 
thoughts of our own."
	"I wonder why Picard is not keen to be pressed on warfare… is the 
Federation more violent than he said?" Asked Gregari.
	"I don't think so.  The impression I get from everyone on this station, is 
that the Federation is a peaceful society.  That doesn't mean that they won't 
fight if they have to."
	Beniga thought back to when Sisko had introduced Picard, and the tension 
that he'd noticed.
	"Mara, when Captain Sisko introduced us to Captain Picard, I thought I 
picked up on some… tension there.  Did you notice anything?" He asked.
	Again Jade closes her eyes as she concentrated on the memory.
	"Sisko harbours a small level of resentment of Captain Picard.  There is 
something from their history… visions of fire, of loss, great loss… but I cannot 
be any clearer than that."
	"Why is that important?  Personal grudges don't concern us, surely?" 
Remarked Gregari irritably.
	"It's important to note every detail, Commander.  We might have cause to 
use everything we learn here." Replied Beniga firmly.
	"What is the plan for tomorrow?" Enquired Jade.
	"The ambassadors will enter detailed talks, covering the history of our 
galaxy in more detail, and gather more information for us as well.  There will 
be talk of trade, cultural exchanges, visits to here and there… it will 
incredibly boring."
	"What will we be doing?" Asked Gregari.
	"Perhaps another chat with Captain Picard, and then we need to obtain 
details on the technology of these people.  Their threat potential.  After that, 
I will report back to the Empire.  In the meantime, Mara, I want you to mingle.  
Explore the station and it's inhabitants.  Get a feel for how they behave, how 
they think.  Use the Force to get inside their heads."

	Whilst some were planning to get inside people's heads, others planned to 
get inside their finances.  Quark, the honest, hard-working, kind bartender of 
the bar of the same name, was delighted with the influx of ambassadors from an 
alien land.  He was happy to introduce them all to various new forms of alcohol, 
as long as he made a profit from doing so.  
	One of the advantages of getting an ambassador drunk was that they would 
then talk about things they wouldn't usually breathe a word about.  Quark had 
already heard a number of interesting tid-bits about the policies of the Empire, 
and about the possibilities of expanding to new regions.  There were apparently 
few restrictions on businesses outside the central territories.  A dream for a 
Ferengi.
	Quark was pouring out a Jibetan Ale for a somewhat inebriated ambassador, 
not noticing a newcomer to the bar.  As the ambassador burped rather loudly, 
Quark glanced upwards, spotting one of the most beautiful creatures to not have 
lobes he had ever seen.
	Her hair was red and flowing, her figure slender, and the eyes were 
shining with passion and intensity.  Quark paused for a moment to follow the 
newcomer as she took a seat at the bar, before remembering his charm.
	"There you are, another ale Mr Ambassador." Crowed Quark, handing over the 
glass.  The ambassador mumbled a thanks, and Quark dismissed the guy from his 
mind.  He had more important things to do.
	"So, what can I get for the lovely lady?"  Drawled Quark in his most 
charming voice.
	"I'm just here to observe." Replied the auburn one.
	"Well, there's plenty more to do here than just observe.  We have Dabo 
tables, darts, food, drink, anything you want.  Perhaps a spell in a holo-suite, 
free of charge?"
	"No thank you." Came a clipped reply.
	"Well, if you need anything, just let me know." Quark returned his 
attention to other customers, disappointed that he hadn't engaged the stranger.
	The stranger herself took a seat in a corner of the bar, scanning the 
aliens and Starfleet officers with the Force.  She found it interesting to note 
that a number of visitors to the bar had illegal activity on their minds, 
including that of the barman.  Others were engrossed in gambling, and a pair of 
Starfleet officers were throwing pointed objects a circular board on the wall, 
also throwing good-natured insults at each other.  
	Some were Federation citizens, and appeared to be happy, content with 
their world and government.  The overall impression that she received was that 
the Federation was an open society, that did not deter it's citizens from from 
pursuing their desires, as long as they didn't engage in illegal activity (which 
she took for granted).  Other patrons were from a range of planets and 
governments, with varying levels of satisfaction with those governments.  The 
barman was concerned with profits, almost religiously, but was also trying to 
weasel information from patrons at every opportunity.  She also sensed, that he 
knew quite a lot about the station, if not the wider world beyond.
	Well, a source is still a source.
	She returned to the bar, taking a seat, waiting to catch the barman's 
attention.  It didn't take long before he returned, smiling, showing crooked 
teeth.
	"I have decided I would like a drink after all." She smiled sweetly, 
probing a little more with the Force on this alien.
	"By all means dear, what will you have?" The barman- Quark was his name- 
was now starting to think lecherous thoughts, which she found repulsive, but she 
had a job to do.
	"Anything, as long as it's not alcoholic." Quark seemed to look 
disappointed at that, but she had figured out his game of getting ambassadors 
drunk, and she would not play.
	"Very well, this is what hew-mans call orange juice.  Putrid if you ask 
me, but they love it." He poured out a large glass, and handed it over.
	She took a sip, decided she liked it, and took another.  She then put the 
glass down and stared straight at Quark, directing more subtle energies of the 
Force at him.
	"I'm seeking to understand how society works here, to learn more about the 
cultures and powers of this space.  You own a bar, you must hear and see 
things."
	"That's true my dear, very true.  I'm a trustable guy, and so people talk 
to me.  Plus, I have excellent hearing." He pointed to his ears.  "So, you seek 
information huh?  Well, if I scratch your back, will you scratch my lobes?"
	Sensing the sexual connotations of the lobe comment, she grimaced 
inwardly, but smiled again.
	"What information do you seek?"
	"Your name- I like to know the name of the beautiful creature I'm speaking 
to." Quark gazed deeply at her, making her skin crawl.
	"Mara Jade, though most call me Mara." And do I continue this pointless 
charade, or do I scan him and take what I want?
	Option two swiftly won out; as Quark proceeded to babble about different 
alien cultures, Mara sifted through the information, sensing what was a lie and 
what wasn't.  She probed deeper, slowly, as she sometimes nodded or replied to 
Quark.  She was ready to break her link, when a thought flickered through 
Quark's mind, a thought about data rods.  He was planning to hack the station's 
computer later, for some business deal.
	Intrigued, Mara realised the value of such a device.  She now had 
information on the societies of the station, and chance had given her the 
opportunity to get at so much more.  Quark had computer components that could 
infiltrate the entire system, and reveal much.
	Not confident though, of her skills to coerce another's mind, Mara broke 
the link, and smiled softly at Quark.
	"Thank you for the information, and for the drink, but I'm afraid I have 
other observations to make, elsewhere.  How much do I owe you?"
	Quark put on a smooth tone of voice, crowing how such a lovely young woman 
didn't need to pay.  She thanked him again, then left, thinking of how to get 
that data rod, but also keen to explore the station.
	The main Promenade was full of life, with a variety of shops and food 
parlours.  A Klingon (Mara had seen pictures whilst Beniga had reviewed files on 
the Federation's rivals) was busy serving food to customers; food which was 
still moving, in some cases.  A Cardassian was in the middle of selling some 
trousers, making an excited case for why Alcazan silk was the smoothest 
available.  Bajorans were emerging from the local temple, where prayer had just 
finished.  
	So wrapped up in observing everything, Mara failed to observe what was 
directly in front of her, and as a result clattered into the back of someone.  
That someone turned around, grabbing her and supporting her as she almost 
stumbled back.  Looking up, Mara found herself face to face with a young man, 
human in appearance, wearing a Starfleet uniform of the blue neck variety.  
	"I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings." Spoke the 
Starfleeter in a soft voice.
	"My fault, I was looking in every direction except forward." Replied Mara, 
adopting a formal tone, despite finding the man in front of her to be 
attractive.  He was reasonably tall, had alert blue eyes, and darkish hair.  On 
closer inspection, he had been one of the people throwing darts at a board.
	"There certainly is a lot to see, isn't there?  I remember when I first 
came onboard, I was amazed by it all.  Oh, sorry, I'm Julian, Julian Bashir, 
chief medical officer."
	"Jade, Mara Jade, attaché with the Imperial diplomats."
	Bashir smiled at her, and Mara picked up that he too considered her to be 
attractive.  Thankfully his thoughts were not like Quark's; she didn't pick up 
the same lusty feelings.  Curiosity though, and a pang of emotion for another, 
were present.
	"Well, I hope so far your stay here has been enjoyable." He said 
pleasantly.
	"So far it has, though I haven't seen very much of the station." She 
sensed a desire in him, to get to know her a little more, a desire she found 
herself curious about; a curiosity she had to put aside, as she had to inform 
Beniga of her discovery.
	"Perhaps I can give you a tour?"  Asked the doctor.  
	"I'm afraid I'm on official business, perhaps another time?"
	Bashir seemed a little dejected, but nonetheless was looking forward to a 
reunion later.
	"I'll see what my schedule allows me to do." He smiled, and Mara smiled 
back, wondering if he knew what she was, laughing to herself that she could 
probe him for all his thoughts, and he'd never be the wiser.
	She bade farewell, and resumed her heading, for her quarters.  Once there, 
she left a message over the comm system for Beniga, stating that she needed to 
speak to him.
	The prospect of obtaining a data rod would catch the Admiral's interest, 
of that Mara was sure.  She wasn't able to tell precisely what information the 
rod could get, but the very fact that Quark had it illegally and wanted to keep 
it secret told her it was important.

	There was nothing worse than waiting, yet Vader was having to get used to 
it.  Admiral Beniga's team would not be returning for another couple of days, so 
instead Vader directed the movement of Imperial ships within the sector.  
	The Death Star had since departed the region, with Vader taking up 
residence on his flagship, the Super Star Destroyer Executor.  Flanked by Grand 
Admiral Zogo's Imperial class destroyer Epic, and Grand Admiral Lang's Star 
Destroyer Superior, the massive Super Destroyer was every bit as imposing as 
it's name suggested.  It's hull was a much darker shade than the two Imperial 
class destroyers that floated nearby.
	In addition to the heavy vessels, a floatia of dreadnoughts, corvettes, 
strike cruisers and frigates had built up, and construction had begun on a Golem 
defence platform.  The Emperor had decided that it would not be wise to let the 
rebels get near to the wormhole, for fear that they would exploit the resources 
on the other side.
	Watching the wormhole location, Vader could still feel it's vibrations 
coarse through him.  It was as though now the stone had been dropped in the 
pond, someone was scooping it out and dropping it, again and again.  It was a 
sensation Vader didn't like.
	Duty though, required him to be here.  The Emperor wanted him to oversee 
the operation, and Vader could not disobey his master… at least, that was the 
idea.
	But things were changing.  Vader's power continued to grow, fuelled by his 
hate.  The more power he had, the more his hate swelled, and so the more power 
he had.  In the corner of his mind, he was beginning to question why he needed a 
master.
	Now was not the time to rebel.  Vader still had things to learn from 
Palpatine, namely, the art of control.  As long as that was so, Vader would 
remain loyal, at least, on the surface.
	The rest of the Executor's bridge crew went about their duties, 
controlling their nerves with the efficiency that their training had drilled 
into them.  None of them wanted to be near him, and none of them talked to him 
unless spoken to.  Vader preferred it that way.
	More ships, carrying construction crews, arrived, their access to the 
construction site being approved by the duty officer.  Vader watched, and 
waited, frustrated with it all.
	It was then that an idea came to him.  Only an inkling, but still an idea.  
The Emperor wanted to stop the Rebellion from gaining access to the wormhole… 
and Vader agreed with that.  He though, had other plans for the wormhole, and 
the peoples beyond it…

	Sisko had expected this sooner or later, though he was in fact surprised 
it was later rather than sooner.
	Instead of sending a message, the Klingons were coming by ship, namely the 
flagship, a Negh'Var class cruiser, of the same name.  It could only be that 
Chancellor Gowron was onboard that ship, and was heading to Deep Space Nine to 
personally voice his 'concerns' over the wormhole, and the alien ship.
	If ever there was a headache to be caused with the whole issue of the 
alien ship, the Klingons were the mostly likely to provide it.  Sisko could 
guess Gowron's position: a large ship of unknown capability had emerged from a 
radically altered wormhole, and that ship was crewed by humans.  Gowron would 
probably equate 'human' with 'Federation', and assume the ship was a prototype 
warship of some sort.  He would demand to know why it was there, and what it was 
doing.
	In fact, Sisko expected demands regardless of whether or not Gowron knew 
the ship wasn't of Federation origin.  Given the state of Federation/Klingon 
relations, an attempt to take the ship was not an impossibility, though the 
Klingons knew an attack on guests of the Federation, in Federation space, would 
be met with a passionate response.  
	"ETA of the Negh'Var?" He asked, from the central display in Ops.
	"Three hours twenty-two minutes." Replied Jadzia, from the science 
station.  "Should I inform Captain Picard?"
	"No.  I'll take care of informing him, and the Imperials." With a brief 
pause, he opened a channel to the Enterprise.
	"Deep Space Nine to Enterprise, we've picked up the approach of the 
Klingon flagship.  There's a good chance that Chancellor Gowron himself is 
aboard, though there's been no communication as yet."
	"Acknowledged DS9, we'll be ready, Enterprise out." Came Picard's clipped 
reply.
	"Sisko to Admiral Beniga; Admiral, you should be aware, a ship is 
approaching from the Klingon Empire.  Whilst they have not yet made their 
intentions clear, I would imagine they wish to meet with you."
	"How long until they arrive?" Came the Admiral's reply.
	"A little over three hours.  Captain Picard will brief you on what to 
expect."
	"Acknowledged.  Beniga out."
	Jadzia looked at her Captain.
	"Things are about to get fun." She said with a smile.  Sisko glared at 
her.
	"'Fun' isn't quite the word I'd use old man.  The Klingons are just the 
start.  We can look forward to the Romulans, Ferengi, Cardassians, all of them 
wanting to know what's going on.  It's just a question of when they arrive."
	Jadzia smiled again, more softly.  That much was true.

	Time ticked by, as Picard revealed to Beniga the current situation with 
the Klingons, and what to expect from them upon their arrival.  Sisko mused in 
his office, partly over the Klingons, partly over how he still felt aggrieved 
over being upstaged by Picard.  Admiral Beniga, upon being informed about the 
Klingons, returned to his quarters, to find a message waiting from Mara Jade.  

	"Well Mara, your message seemed quite urgent, what have you learned?" 
Asked the Admiral.
	Beniga, Jade, and Commander Gregari were seated in Jade's quarters, 
Gregari with his feet up on the coffee table, looking bored.
	"The owner of the bar here, Quark, has high-level access to the computers 
of this station.  We could learn a lot about the Federation, and indeed the 
other powers here- information that they wouldn't want us to know."
	Gregari sat up.  This was more interesting.
	"I see.  Any idea as to what kind of information we would be obtaining?" 
Asked Beniga.
	"I'm not sure, but I do know for certain that Quark is not supposed to 
have that kind of access.  I would presume he has access to Federation ship 
movements, communication records, classified technical data on Federation ships, 
that sort of thing."
	Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, Beniga considered what getting hold of such 
information would mean.
	"Our scans of this station show it to be capable of withstanding an 
assault from three Star Destroyers, possibly four.  Whilst that's not a great 
number of ships, if we had a way around their defences, it would prove useful.  
Not to mention we could use more information on their ships."
	"You haven't had the Enterprise scanned yet?" Enquired Gregari.
	"I ordered a subtle scan, but it will take time.  If we let on that we are 
conducting scans, it might still trigger a hostile response.  It would also 
encourage them to scan us back, something they have evidently hesitated to do- 
and the less they know about our own capabilities, the better."
	Turning his attention to Jade, Beniga decided that she'd found something 
worth pursuing.  
	"Mara, do what you have to do get that information.  But first, I'd like 
you to be present with our first meeting with the Klingons.  From what Picard 
tells me, it will be interesting, to say the least."
	"What did he tell you about them?" Asked Gregari, still annoyed that he 
hadn't been present when Picard had spoken about the Klingons.
	Beniga stood, running over the details in his head.
	"They are a proud people, with a strong sense of honour.  They value 
honour above life, and will disown family members before letting them hurt the 
family image, so to speak.  In the past they have proven to be warlike and 
aggressive, fighting furiously if they believe they have been affronted.  I 
suspect they will be feeling affronted right now, as the Federation has not 
invited them to meet with us- not that they have to, for the Klingons severed 
diplomatic ties, as Picard said in the conference room last night.  We should 
expect the Klingons to be direct with us, if not outright aggressive and full of 
bluster."
	Gregari leaned back, raising an eyebrow.
	"Well that should make things interesting."

	With twin suns, the world of Tantooine was hot, very hot, and unforgiving 
to those who were not prepared for the heat and dust storms.  Still, people 
forged a living in the strangest, most inhospitable of places, and cities, 
villages and businesses had established themselves on the desert world.  Being 
far from the centre of the Empire, it was also a good place to hide.
	It has here that an old man kept out of sight from the rest of the galaxy, 
reflecting on times past, on events that took place long ago, galaxy-altering 
events that he had had a hand in.  In the shelter of the planet's many caves, he 
avoided the suns, the dust, and the rest of the population.
	But even isolated as he was, he could still sense things, perceive things 
that no one else could.  A ripple, an echo of a powerful event, swept over the 
galaxy, unnoticed by most, but as it passed over Tantooine, he felt it.  It was 
faint, but it was there.  It raised the hairs on his neck, made his bones 
tingle.  Whatever it was, it was something incredible, and he knew he had to 
investigate- the Force had not trembled like that for years.
	Leaving his cave, Obi-wan Kenobi set off toward someone he knew could one 
day help everyone- Luke Skywalker.

	Picard, Sisko, Admiral Beniga, Commander Gregari and Mara Jade were 
waiting at the docking port, for the arrival of Chancellor Gowron, whose ship 
was in the process of docking.  The Negh'Var shimmered green in the starlight, 
large and imposing as it slid into place.
	Almost as imposing (but thankfully nowhere as large), Chancellor Gowron, 
flanked by General Martok, and a pair of guards, could be seen approaching the 
airlock.  Everyone immediately noted that he did not look happy.
	The door rolled away, and Gowron glared at those assembled to greet him.  
Stomping from the airlock entrance into the corridor, he cast his eyes over 
everyone, in particular over the Imperial officers, narrowing his eyes at them.
	"So, these are the so-called strangers from a distant location.  
Remarkable then, that you all look human." The accusation was obvious- Gowron 
suspected a Federation conspiracy of some kind.  
	"Tell me Captain Picard, Captain Sisko, how long has the Federation been 
secretly expanding, developing new warships?" Growled Gowron.
	Picard stepped forward.
	"I can assure you Chancellor, the Federation has done nothing out of the 
ordinary.  The Bajoran wormhole has undergone a transformation, which I'm sure 
your border outposts would have detected." 
	Gowron simply frowned as way of a reply, then waved an arm at the 
Imperials.
	"Yet the crew of that ship are human Captain, how do you explain that?"
	"I cannot.  We have only just met with the inhabitants from the other side 
of the wormhole, and speaking of which, let me introduce them to you." Picard 
gestured to the Imperials.  "Admiral Beniga, commander of the Raven, his first 
officer, Commander Gregari…" Gregari puffed up his chest a little. "and attaché 
Mara Jade."
	Beniga thrust out his hand for a handshake, but Gowron simply looked at 
him, disdain clear in his eyes.  Slowly Beniga lowered his hand, casting a 
knowing glance at Gregari.
	"I shall tell you what I see.  The Federation has control of the only 
stable wormhole in the galaxy.  The Federation has a monopoly on first contacts 
and has first access to new technologies, and the Federation has been using that 
monopoly to build new ships!  You can be assured Captain Picard, the Klingon 
Empire will not stand for this!"  Gowron almost snarled the last sentence.
	Taking a step forward, Picard looked Gowron squarely in the eyes, matching 
Gowron's anger with steel of his own.
	"Sir, if you know us, you know we are not in the habit of exploiting first 
contacts for military purposes.  That ship out there is new to us, a complete 
unknown, and we are trying to learn more, but not to create weapons of war, 
instead out of the desire to learn.  I suggest you stop applying your own 
motives to us.  Now, if you wish to remain here, as a guest of the Federation, 
you can, but if you continue to make accusations about what has taken place 
here, you are welcome to leave."
	Angry, chastised, Gowron smouldered, ready to launch into another 
outburst.  Instead, it was Beniga who calmed things down.
	"Chancellor, I can assure you, we are not from this space.  Whatever the 
wormhole did, it was not expected or planned.  Something caused it to undergo a 
transformation, but it was not us, nor the Federation.  We have come through the 
wormhole on a mission of exploration, nothing more."
	Everyone was silent for a moment, until Sisko spoke up.
	"I suggest we take this discussion out of the corridor and into a 
conference room." He said quietly.
	Smiling, Beniga agreed, as did Gowron.  Picard led the Imperial delegates 
and Gowron to one of the conference rooms, and Sisko moved to head back to Ops, 
when a hand grabbed his arm.  Sisko looked up, finding the hand was attached to 
General Martok.
	"Is there something I can do for you General.?" He asked, as though the 
Klingon was not holding him.
	"To be blunt Captain, I do not believe Captain Picard's pretty words.  
That ship out there is beyond anything this quadrant has ever seen, armed to the 
teeth and generating more power than the Negh'Var and Enterprise combined.  It 
could take on a fleet of Negh'Vars!  It looks very much like a warship Captain, 
a warship that has conveniently shown up in Federation space as tensions between 
the Empire and Federation rise."
	Sucking in a breath, Sisko took in what Martok had said.  So far no 
invasive scans had been conducted of the Raven, at least, not by Federation 
forces.
	"I can assure General, we did not build that ship.  If what you say is 
true, we could not have built that ship."
	"Then I pose the same question to you that Gowron put to Picard: Why is it 
manned by humans?" 
	"I have to reply as Picard did- we don't know." Replied Sisko.
	The General simply stared at Sisko, doubt clearly displayed on his face.
	"Look, General, you've clearly scanned that ship.  Is it anything like a 
Federation vessel?"
	"Mmmm…. No, it is not.  It contains technology far beyond what you have 
achieved."
	Sisko raised an eyebrow at that.
	"I am curious Captain, why have you not scanned that ship yourself?"
	Sisko began to head back toward Ops, the General falling into step beside 
him.
	"When they first arrived, they were a complete unknown.  A full scan might 
have been taken as a provocative act.  We've done a few low scans, we know the 
approximate crew complement, that it has a lot of weapons ports, but that's it."
	Martok stopped Sisko once again.
	"Captain, I have been serving with the Klingon fleet for a great many 
years, and I know a warship when I see it.  That ship has enormous power 
generation, and is bristling with weaponry.  I suggest you watch it carefully."

	Assembled in the conference room, everyone present (Picard, Beniga, 
Gregari, Jade and Gowron) was now seated (with the except of Gowron, who was 
scowling at the Imperial team, and remaining standing).  
	"I really don't know what I can say to assure you Chancellor, that we are 
not Federation operatives.  I have already told you sir, everything that I can 
tell you, and I swear it to be true." Beniga kept his voice soft, yet there was 
an unmistakable firmness behind it.
	"And why should I trust you, Admiral?  Your ship appears out of nowhere, 
next to the stronghold of an ally that betrayed us!"
	He kept his expression neutral, but inwardly Beniga was suddenly 
intrigued.  Picard had only touched upon the subject- that the Federation and 
Klingons had been allies, and subsequently the Klingons had ended the alliance 
due to a disagreement of some kind.  There had been no more said than that.  
Evidently the Klingons had their own opinions on the matter.
	"Sir, I understand your culture values honour, yet you will not give us 
the chance to prove our own.  Surely we deserve such a chance to prove our 
honour?"
	At the use of the word honour, Gowron simply growled- the honourable thing 
to do was to give these humans the benefit of the doubt, at least for the 
moment.
	"Very well, for now, I will trust you on your word Admiral, though know 
that the Klingon Empire will be watching you very carefully, and we expect to be 
allowed to participate in these proceedings from now on." As ever, Gowron was 
blunt.
	"Of course, we welcome the opportunity to contact new societies and races.  
Already we have met two distinctive governments, and we hope to develop lasting 
relationships with both the Klingon Empire and the Federation, and indeed, 
anyone else who wishes to meet with us."
	Gowron sneered at that, still not impressed with diplomatic rhetoric.  
Nonetheless, he sat at Picard's request, and discussions began in earnest.
	Beniga recited Tolik's comments about the Empire to Picard, actually 
gaining the Empire respect in Gowron's eyes, for the Empire's tough stance on 
trouble makers, and the authority in wielded in bringing order to a galaxy.  
Gowron, for his part, spoke of the history of the Klingon Empire, how Kahless 
united the planet after a twelve fight with his brother Morath, the history of 
the Empire in space, and its dealings with the Federation.  To his credit, 
Gowron refrained from painting the Federation in a bad light, which intrigued 
Beniga still further, given the Chancellor's earlier comment about betrayal.
	Every so often as Gowron talked, Beniga would feel a presence on his mind; 
Jade, sending him signals, clueing him in to what was truth, and what was 
exaggeration.  He'd sift over those details later. 
	It was apparent to Beniga that the Klingons were indeed as aggressive as 
Picard had suggested, if not more.  Their strong system of honour prevented them 
from going to war at random, and held their instincts in check.  That didn't 
stop them from going to war, but only if there was a valid reason.  
	Another interesting aspect of the structure of Klingon commands, was that 
a junior officer could actually kill a superior officer if it was felt that 
superior was weak, or lacking honour.  That said, a blow from a superior officer 
in the form of disciplinary action could not be returned.
	At first glance, it was difficult to understand how an alliance between 
the Federation and Klingon Empire had come about.  The Federation, dedicated to 
peace, the Klingons with a culture forged in combat.  Clearly there was history 
there, that Beniga decided he would read up upon.
	With everything concluded for the evening, and with the Federation 
ambassadors due to arrive soon, the participants retired, with Picard and Gowron 
thinking of new alliances and prospects for technologies, and Beniga thinking of 
his report back to the Emperor.

	Back on the Raven, Beniga set out making his report.  It was concise, as 
usual, and emphasised the main points.
	"This is the initial report of Grand Admiral Beniga concerning the 
possibility of threats and opportunities within this new space on the other side 
of the wormhole.  We have met with two local governments so far, the Federation 
and the Klingon Empire.  Scans of their ships would suggest that it would take 
between thirty to forty of their ships to bring down a single Imperial class 
Star Destroyer, with at least half of their forces destroyed.
	From a military standpoint, I have seen nothing that truly threatens us, 
though there is the potential for news of the societies here to leak back into 
our own territory, and perhaps cause stirrings of rebellion.  
	There is a great wealth of untapped resources here, that we could 
conceivably make use of.  My recommendation would be to get one of the local 
governments 'onside' so to speak.  The Federation would be the best choice for 
this, given their generally peaceful nature.  The fact that humans populate it 
will make it easier for them to accept us, and easier to convince them to trust 
us.  Any kind of alliance will aggravate the Klingons, and probably other local 
governments, but we can take measures to protect our assets.  In the meantime, I 
recommend further recon of the area, to see what else this new galaxy holds."
	


Chapter 4


It had been six long months since Admiral Beniga had made his recommendation to explore the Milky Way. In that time, the Imperial Star Destroyer Raven had been to earth, to Vulcan, and even made a brief trip to the Klingon home world. Now back in his guest quarters at on Deep Space Nine, the tired Admiral slumped into a chair, staring at his reflection in the small cabinet mirror. With a sigh Beniga rubbed his temples, trying to sort out everything that had happened, and how to proceed from here. 
The Klingons, after their initial belligerence, had suddenly backed off upon realising how powerful Imperial ships were. From a distance they maintained the attitude of an angry cat, snarling, hissing, but not daring to do more than that. Jade had barely needed the Force to determine that they still felt the Empire was actually a Federation conspiracy for local dominance, despite the Empire being several orders of magnitude more advanced than the Federation. The notion was amusing to Beniga, and he failed to understand how the two vastly differing societies had ever been allies. 
After meeting with the Vulcans, Jade had appeared to be unsettled to Beniga’s eyes. Upon asking her about it, the admiral had learned that the Vulcans were intensely emotional beings, every one of them was a bottled up volcano of passion and intensity. Their discipline was incredible, and their focus to logic and wisdom impressive. It was no small wonder that the Federation’s science academy was located on Vulcan. 
Explaining the benefits of the Empire to a race like the Vulcans had seemed like a challenge at first, but by appealing to the logic of close ties to a powerful empire (not to mention the chance to learn about thousands of new cultures and explore thousands of new worlds) Beniga felt he’d won the Vulcans over. Their cousins, the Romulans, were a different matter, and even the experienced Grand Admiral had felt under scrutiny from the incredibly secretive people. They were unwilling to expose anything about themselves, and yet determined to weasel information- any kind of information- from Beniga and his team. It was amazing that Vulcans and Romulans shared the same roots- Vulcans were immensely calm and controlled, with a curiosity to learn; Romulans were distrustful, secretive and they very much more passionate than their Vulcan relatives. 
Cardassians too, were secretive, though they had seemed much more eager to please their guests than the Romulans. Which wasn’t surprising, given the broken state of their world and territories. Wrecked hulls drifted in their space, and buildings crumbled all over Cardassia; the scent of death and decay seeped into the pores of the Imperial visitors. 
Jade had deduced that the Cardassians wanted allies, strong allies to help them rebuild, at least until they could take over themselves, even if that meant stabbing their friends in the back. They were willing to employ any deception, any little plan they had to achieve their dream of becoming powerful again. 
Other races were scheduled in to be met with- the Breen, the Tholians, the Gorn… but the main powers were firmly ahead of the game of those races, and so also the ones Beniga expected to deal with the most. 
One thing that stuck out across all the major players were their remarkably homogenous societies. There were few signs of regional variations in cultural practices or religions, something which was in stark contrast to the human cultures of the Milky Way, which were noticeably different. Still, in the end, it didn’t matter- in fact, it would make them easier to absorb some day. 
The plans for that day were well underway, with Mara Jade’s subtle Force workings on Federation officials, combined with Imperial propaganda, working magic. The Federation Council had only a week ago approved construction of an Imperial base on the outskirts of it’s space, a base that would allow for ‘trade, tourism, and the chance to truly learn about one another’, as the good Ambassador Tolik had told the Council when the idea first came up. What the Federation didn’t know was that the base would also serve as an Imperial intelligence facility, and a place to spread the Emperor’s influence from. 
Some Starfleet officers had expressed concern about allowing the relatively unknown and mysterious Empire an outpost, citing the very same reason of intelligence gathering. Jade was on that case though- the dissenters would soon fall from grace. 
At that thought, Beniga smiled. 
*** 
“And voila, you owe me another drink.” Bashir smirked, first at the glittering darts board, then at Miles O’Brien, who scowled. 
“I still say you’re using your genetically enhanced abilities.” Bashir stepped back, putting on a hurt expression. 
“Why Miles, I’m horrified that you’d think that.” He said dramatically. Then another sly grin tugged at his lips. “One of these days, you’ll admit I’m simply a better player.” O’Brien simply huffed, growling as he went to fetch the drinks. 
Watching across Quarks, Mara Jade sat in quiet contemplation, musing over Bashir’s features. The good doctor was charming, had a great smile, and a sexy voice to go with it. It helped that he also seemed to look perpetually tanned, despite living on a space station. Tuning out the distractions of the other patrons, Mara kept her focus on Bashir, even though she knew she had other things to do. A budding user of the Force she may have been, but she was still a woman, and she still wanted certain things from life. 
The other man, O’Brien, returned, grumbling about the cost of the drinks, and Bashir laughed. Mara gritted her teeth to stop herself from sighing. 
Six months of meetings and observations and missions had not altered her first impression of Bashir as being a good man, if a little naïve. It was good to be back on the station, and perhaps get the chance to take up the doctor on his offer of a tour last time around. 
“You’ve been stirring that drink for about fifteen minutes, let me guess, Quark mixed it horribly wrong?” 
Mara jolted, startled, and horrified with herself for being startled. She’d tuned out other distractions so completely that her Force training had not sensed the woman now standing by her table. With black hair tied back, passionate brown eyes, and dark brown spots on her face and neck, Jadzia Dax looked every bit as confident as Mara usually sensed her to be. 
“Mind if I join you? Only otherwise Quark will make the moves on me, and then my fiancée will kill him.” Jadzia flashed a smile at the younger woman, who nodded with a smile of her own. 
“Mmm, I think you’re right about Quark’s drinks. Well, this one at least. He called it a Tarkalian sunburst, supposed to be an explosion of fruity flavours, but all I can taste is water and the occasional bite of… is it a lemon? That yellow, sour fruit?” 
“That would be a lemon, one of earth’s more evil products.” Jadzia laughed softly. “So, what had you so engrossed, if you don’t mind me asking?” 
“Oh, just… thoughts.” Despite herself, Mara felt her cheeks flush a little. 
Jadzia seemed to notice. “Aaah, I see, I sometimes do that myself. Don’t tell my fiancée, but sometimes I muse over other men. Oh Spock, you are so handsome!” The Trill giggled to herself, and Mara chimed in, even though she hadn’t the faintest idea who Spock was. 
Slyly, though enough for the trained Mara to notice, Jadzia took a glance in the direction she’d been looking in, letting a low ‘ooohhhhh’ at the sight of Bashir and O’Brien. Turning back, Jadzia now wore a wider smile, a teasing glint in her eyes. 
“So, one of those two eh? Well, I ought to warn you, the way they behave sometimes, you’d think they were married to each other!” 
Mara’s eyebrows shot up; did she mean they both married? She felt herself deflate ever so slightly. 
The older woman caught the look, and moved quickly to correct herself. 
“Oh, I don’t mean they’re married; well, O’Brien is, but Bashir is very much the bachelor.” 
“Ohhhhh.” Having just deflated, now Mara was inflated. Jadzia noticed that too, chuckling. For a second time, Mara flushed. Jadzia smiled warmly, and refrained from teasing any further. She didn’t want to make the young woman uncomfortable. 
“I can remember when he was chasing me around like a lost dog. He tried so hard to be charming and dashing. Still, he’s matured since then. He’d make a good catch.” Eyes twinkling, Jadzia glanced at the time, and her expression turned to one of horror. 
“Is that the time?” I’m sorry… I didn’t catch your name?” 
“Jade, Mara Jade.” She replied softly. 
“Well Mara, it’s been nice talking to you. Good luck with Julian.” Breathed the Jadzia with a deliberately romantic air. 
At the dart board, Bashir laughed again in good-natured ribbing of O’Brien, who growled and threatened to aim the next dart at Bashir’s head. 
*** 
Rapping his fingers on the polished oak, Captain Sisko felt yet another wave of boredom, frustration and jealousy pass through him simultaneously. 
The boredom was simply because nothing exciting had happened for the past few months. With the Imperial delegation travelling here there and everywhere, and everyday station life not really calling for a great deal of the captain’s time, Sisko had been at a loose end. There was no Dominion threat to keep things charged and exciting anymore, no dangerous moves by the Klingons, the Cardassians were still rebuilding from the Klingon invasion, and the Romulans were quiet, as usual. 
Frustration had crept in because the excitement to be had in the Milky Way was to be found where the Imperial teams travelled to, and Sisko wasn’t involved. Despite being the man who’d made first contact with the Empire, Sisko’s involvement with them now didn’t amount to a hill of beans. 
The jealousy had been an extension of the feeling of frustration. Whilst Sisko had been effectively shut out of proceedings, Starfleet had allowed Captain Picard to be present at nearly every meeting between Federation and Imperial officials, and the Enterprise served as the transport for Imperial delegates whilst in Federation space. In effect, Picard was getting all the glory whilst Sisko festered. It was maddening. 
Worst of all though, was the Federation Council’s recent approval of Imperial plans to build a small base on the edge of Federation territory. The approval had been granted because of the recommendation of one man- the venerable, the exceptional, the ‘best captain in the fleet’ the one and only, Captain Picard. After only six months the Federation was going to allow the still relatively unknown and vastly powerful Empire to set up a base on it’s doorstep, and even Picard had not noticed the horrible risks involved in that! Sisko didn’t even notice that he gnashed his teeth at that thought. 
The door chimed, and in strode Major Kira, attuned to her captain’s moods from years of serving together. Her experiences with the Cardassians had taught her caution and discretion, and she too could see the dangers inherent with inviting the Empire onto the doorstep. To allow an outpost to an unknown quantity was dangerous, and the Federation was unwise to even consider the idea, let alone approve it. 
“This week’s duty roster.” Said the major. 
“Thank you, just leave it on the desk.” Replied the captain. 
And that was that. Kira left the office, leaving Sisko to brood on the mistakes of the Council, and how Starfleet had wrenched away possibly the most important first contact of his career. With the wormhole irrevocably redirected, Sisko didn’t even have the spice of a Dominion threat to hold him to Deep Space Nine, yet his mission to aid Bajor wasn’t over yet. He had his orders and until he was told it was time to go, he would stay. 
He doubted he’d stay a second longer than he had to though. 
*** 
So far, the charting of the Milky Way had been going well. Lt. Commander Jos was fascinated by it all. The wild plasma storms of the Badlands, the beauty of the Orion and Crabbe nebulae, cultures in various stages of development, unlike the technologically homogenous galaxy he was from. Seated at his science station on the Raven, he trained the sensors on everything he could, collecting data for both the computer and himself to analyse later, with help from a dedicated team of Imperial scientists that had come along for the ride. 
Commander Gregari seemed totally uninterested in any of it. But then, Gregari had never been open-minded, or interested in learning anything that didn’t further his career. The only reason the commander was present was because he had been ordered to act as commanding officer for the scout mission, which at the time, had left a distinct look of displeasure on his face. Jos smiled at the memory of that. 
Right now the Raven was on its way to the Delta Quadrant, following up a lead obtained by Jade’s little theft of a data rod. A race of machines, the Borg, had been mentioned, and a possibility existed that they could be a threat, given their ability to adapt to enemy technology, though Federation scans and assessments of Borg power generation still placed them far below the level of the Raven. Jos was confident that Imperial firepower would be more than adequate to deal with any threat. 
Whilst en-route to Borg space, orders were in place to look out for the USS Voyager, a Federation ship lost in the Delta Quadrant nearly four years earlier. If that ship could be found, Beniga wanted Gregari to bring its crew home as a gesture of friendship and compassion. The common opinion amongst the crew was that developing stronger ties with the Federation was a complete waste of time; why all the subterfuge and friendliness when a single Star Destroyer could defeat them? Jos understood though, that Beniga didn’t want to create a new breeding ground for rebels and terrorists to tie up Imperial forces for years to come. A Federation that was firmly on the Empire’s side would also fight for the Empire. 
Coming out of hyperspace, sensors immediately alerted Jos to several objects nearby. There was a blue giant star and a Neptune-sized gas giant orbiting about two million kilometres away. What grabbed Jos’s attention was the presence of other spacecraft. 
No less than eleven cube-shaped ships, each one three kilometres squared, were orbiting the gas giant. Life-signs were difficult to determine, Jos thought he picked up some vague biological patterns, but they were scrambled. 
“Commander, sensors are detecting eleven alien ships, each one a cube, three kilometres cubed.” 
“Lets see them.” Barked Gregari, standing from his seat. The viewer displayed the hot gas planet, and upon magnification, the alien ships. 
Green glows came from deep within the bowels of each ship, a series of criss-crossed scaffolding that looked like it had been hastily thrown together. They matched the images of Borg ships that Jos had seen from the Federation data. 
“Ships match the configuration of Borg vessels. I recommend we raise shields. If they were to beam in a boarding party, it could prove to be a headache.” 
“Agreed. Shields up, prepare to power weapons.” Gregari was in his element now, moving into full military command mode. After months of boring diplomacy and sickening niceties, he was spoiling for a fight, and dearly wanted the Borg to give him an excuse to start one. In a way, a boarding party from the Borg would have been fun, though he didn’t want to lose any crewmembers on his watch. That would be embarrassing. 
“A Borg ship has detected us and is moving to intercept. ETA two minutes.” Reported Jos. “Shall I run a complete scan?” 
“Yes, do it.” Came the clipped response. Jos duly did so, running his sensors over the cube. It was a curious combination of different technologies, of various ages, with a few central systems that shared the same identity. 
“We’re being hailed.” Reported Comms officer Duiek. 
“On screen.” 
“We are the Borg. You will lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your technological and biological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile.” 
“Well, that certainly was friendly.” Remarked Duiek dryly. 
“Sir, they’re attempting to lock a tractor beam onto us!” Reported an anxious new weapons officer. “They’re trying to modulate to the patterns of our shields, but they’re struggling.” 
Gregari smirked. This was the vaunted danger of the Milky Way? 
“Load up a 20 megaton proton torpedo and fire at the source of their tractor beam. We’ll start out small. Fire when ready.” 
From one of the missile ports, the torpedo leapt free from it’s ship and hurtled through space, crashing into the Borg ship and detonating. Hundreds of drones were vaporised and the tractor beam disabled, a big gaping crater in the cube where the emitter used to be. 
Gregari’s smile grew wider. The burning hole in the enemy ship took up fifteen percent of the facing area. 
Jos poured over his readouts. 
“Their tractor beam is gone. There are power fluctuations and heavy localised damage in the blast zone. There are also some smaller power surges throughout the ship.” 
The Raven rocked suddenly, but not enough to knock anyone off their feet. Returning fire, the Borg cube ran it’s cutting beam against the Star Destroyer’s shields, then started up another tractor beam. Again the tractor beam couldn’t penetrate the Raven’s shields, and the cutting beam, Jos noted, wasn’t making the barest dent in shield strength. 
“Shields are… well, at one-hundred percent, unless you wish to get very, very picky about it Commander.” Mentioned Jos jovially. “They still can’t lock on with their tractor beam.” 
Clasping his hands and sitting back down, Gregari’s face looked positively evil as he considered his next move. Out there a Borg ship was trying in vain to apply a tractor beam, to an Imperial vessel! Even the attempt was an insult. 
“If they want to play with tractor beams, then I suggest we show them how to do it properly. Engage a tractor beam of our own, full power, and begin to peel that ship apart like the tin can it is.” 
Grinning, the weapons operators went to work. A dozen invisible tractor beams snared the Borg, and began to work at sheathing and tugging against each other. Drones on the cube heard their ship begin to break up, metal groaning and power systems failing as entire decks cracked and twisted. Numerous deep breaches like knife wounds emerged, and thousands of drones were spilled into space, flailing helplessly. Ignitable gasses held true to their name as hundreds of small explosions peppered the cube, both on the hull and deep within the ship. Whole sections of the cube sparked and crackled, until, in under a minute, the whole ship went dark, it’s power systems compromised beyond repair. 
Cackling maliciously, Gregari savoured the kill. The Borg had just had their first taste of Imperial power, and not even the light turbolasers had been brought to bear! 
“Commander, the ten other cubes are moving toward us, their weapons are armed and shields raised.” Stated Jos. “Might I suggest disabling one of them so we get a few examples of their technology?” 
Making a disdainful noise at Jos’s endless enthusiasm for other technologies (when would the man learn that it was only the Empire’s abilities that mattered?), Gregari nodded. 
“Might as well. Weapons, tell the gunners to fire ion cannons at the first cube.” He said tiredly. “Hold nothing back on the rest.” 
As the nearest cube entered firing range, and launched torpedoes of its own that inflicted no harm to the Raven, blue streams impacted on the ship’s hull, and stopped it cold. It tumbled through space, unable to function, only able to watch as it’s sister ships ran into a wall of green energy bolts, torn apart in seconds, every one of them. Gone were the huge cubes, replaced by small, scattered debris. 
*** 
Deeper in the Delta Quadrant, a pair of eyes narrowed as a report came in, a disastrous first meeting with an unknown vessel of immense power. The creature vowed to track the ship down, and make it hers. 
*** 
Instead of finding the last hope of the Force, Obi-wan had been found by him, quite unexpectedly. Assisting the young man, he had scared off the Tusken raiders, and from them on, dedicated himself to teaching Skywalker the ways of the Force. It was destiny for the youth he looked at to restore balance to the Force, Obi-wan knew it. Already he had imparted what he knew, told Luke of the vibration that had ran through the Force and that seeking out its source was vital to the future of all things. His skills with the lightsaber, his understanding of the energy around him, all this Obi-wan had done his best to teach. Now it was up to Luke. 
Turning his head, the old Jedi, the last Jedi, stared for a moment at Darth Vader, a grin of confidence on his face, before raising his blade and closing his eyes, allowing the Force to engulf him and claim him even as Vader swung his saber for the killing blow. In that instant, he felt everything, the life of the galaxy, of the universe, the power that linked it all together, and he sensed the source of the disturbance that had troubled him. He saw Vader, he saw Luke, he heard Luke scream and fire wildly at the Sith Lord. No, it was not time, Luke was not ready for Vader. 
Run Luke, Run! He pleaded. Still dazed, not sure where Obi-wan’s voice was coming from, too shocked to argue, Luke shot at the door controls to block Vader’s way into the hanger, and did as Obi-wan asked. 
Flowing through the galaxy, Obi-wan moved to finally complete his destiny, and to give that last push to help Luke fulfil his. 
*** 
Many had sacrificed their lives, and now they were depending on him to ensure their lives had not been lost in vain. Red Five shot like a missile down the trench, sweating profusely, panting from exhilaration and fear. Wedge had just been hit again, losing power. Red Five told him to go, and from a selfish perspective mentally cursed that no TIEs were drawn away. 
Swerving, rising, ducking, Luke did everything he could to avoid the green bolts of deadly energy that the lead TIE sent his way, but at these speeds, in such a confined space, it was damn near impossible. Heart pounding, it almost stopped as his X-Wing shuddered violently- he’d been hit! Incoming data from R2 stopped suddenly, and the display showed that the plucky droid had been hit. 
Then Obi-wan spoke to him, in his head. He urged Luke to use the Force, to trust his feelings… somehow, the strength Obi-wan had possessed was now in Luke. With a confidence he had never felt, he switched off the targeting reticule, and let his instinct take over. 
Behind him, the lead TIE lined him up once again, this time for the killer shot. Luke was focused now, and couldn’t break off. He was so close. 
The next thing Luke knew, the two flanking TIEs were gone, destroyed, and the lead TIE had broken off. Totally lost as to what was going on, it became clear with a moment of pure joy as Han’s voice came over his speaker. 
“You’re all clear kid, now lets blow this thing and go home!” 
Luke didn’t need to be told twice. He launched his torpedoes, and they found their mark. Swiftly the remaining Rebels fled, and behind them the mighty Death Star blew up, a huge fireball in the darkness. 
*** 
“Heh, who would have thought that me, me, one of the biggest rogues of the galaxy, who get a medal for bravery.” Drawled Han Solo, as he, Luke, Chewbacca and the other Rebel troops left the ceremonial hall, making their way to the landing bay. It was unsafe for the Rebels to remain at their base any longer, not now the Empire would come at them with a furious vengeance. Chewbacca made a roaring noise, and Han growled. 
“What do you mean ‘certainly not me?’ You don’t think your old pal Han is brave? Well, what about all those smuggle runs eh? You don’t do those and not be brave!” Boasted Han proudly, all but puffing up his chest. 
“It doesn’t take much to hide from the Empire all the time.” Remarked Luke with a teasing twinkle in his eyes. 
“Hey kid, next time you’re facing an angry Imperial patrol with TIEs swooping over your head, you tell me what’s brave and what’s not.” Retorted Han. 
“he already did that remember, just now?” Luke and Han jumped, and Leia smiled, having crept up on the arguing group. 
“And who flew in to save the day? Yours truly, and was there even any profit in it for me? No! I was totally selfless!” Han’s face took on a positively self-assured look. 
“I know, and I’m still not sure it really happened. It was astonishing.” Grinned Leia. Han sighed and shook his head incredulously. 
Hanging back, Luke watched his friends for a moment, considering what to say. The ever-present ripple in the Force that he was now aware of was tugging on him, applying pressure on him. Obi-wan had told him that the future of not one but two galaxies was at stake, and that finding the source of the curious (and annoying) vibration in the Force was the key to that future. How though, could he ask the Rebellion, or ask anyone to follow him to a place he wasn’t sure he could find, to seek out something he couldn’t describe? ‘Hi Han, Leia, say, the Force is telling me we need to turn left now.’ It was insane, why couldn’t Obi-wan have shown him where to go, or what to do once he got there? 
Noticing that Luke had fallen behind, Leia turned, hazel eyes displaying concern. 
“What’s wrong Luke, you look worried.” 
Taking a deep breath, Luke decided to take the plunge. He’d already taken out a moon-sized battle station using the Force, which was a point in his favour. 
“Leia, there’s something out there, something that Obi-wan warned me about, that could be important to the future of the Rebellion. I don’t know what it is exactly, only that Obi-wan thought it was the key to the future.” Looking sheepish, Luke paused, wondering how he sounded. Probably like a delusional fool. 
Sure enough, Leia was giving Luke a quizzical stare. She opened her mouth to speak, but Han got there first. 
“So, this… ‘something’, Obi-wan didn’t happen to give any clues about where it was it what it does, just that it was ‘out there’? Kid, do you know how many ‘something’s’ and ‘out there’s’ there are in the galaxy? You gotta be more clear about this thing than ‘out there’!” 
“It does sound pretty incredible Luke, I mean, yes, Obi-wan could do some extraordinary things, but to feel something from across the galaxy? Plus, I hate to say it, but captain fly-boy here is right, the galaxy’s huge Luke, and there’s a lot that’s still strange and unexplained. Unless you know where this ‘something’ is, we can’t go looking for it; we’d probably die of old age before we found it.” 
Luke sighed. Leia was more soothing in her approach than Han, but their point was the same- unless Luke could point to the location of this thing on a starchart, searching for it was pointless. 
But then it occurred to Luke, that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to locate this thing… a way that Obi-wan would be proud of. 
“If I can find out where this Force disturbance is, will you help me get there?” Luke asked of Leia. The former senator looked sceptical for a moment, but, seeing the urgency, the belief in Luke’s eyes about this, she nodded slowly, wondering what she was about to get herself into. 
*** 
Shooting through space like a startled cat, the U.S.S Voyager scrambled to avoid the Borg sphere that pursued it. Green bolts of energy splashed over Voyager’s aft shields, rocking the ship and causing the lights to flicker. The emerald darts of phaser fire didn’t slow down the sphere for a second. The ship rocked again, as another salvo reduced the aft shields to a paltry seventeen percent. 
“Aft shields will not hold up against another hit Captain.” Informed Tuvok, tactical officer for Voyager. Janeway glanced briefly at the Vulcan, eyes gleaming with anger and determination. She would not yield to the Borg… 
“Full torpedo spread, detonate just in front of the sphere, lets see if we can blind their sensors, fire!”” 
Orange globes moved swiftly to the Borg ship, exploding just before impact. For a brief moment it seemed as though the sphere was blinded, but then still more torpedoes smashed through Voyager’s shields and gouged into the hull, spewing vaporised metal in a fireball. 
“Shields have failed, hull breaches on decks 12, 13 and 14, sections 18 through 21!” Tuvok opened his mouth to say more, but then the alarms took on a new tone- intruder alert! 
“They must have beamed drones aboard, Tuvok, take a security detail and stop them!” Hastened Janeway. 
The entire ship shook, a tractor beam taking hold if it, and Janeway prepared herself to issue the auto-destruct command, expecting drones to beam onto the bridge en-masse. 
“Captain, sensors are showing a large vessel, of unknown origin, it has… totally destroyed the Borg sphere… and is now towing us from the battle scene.” From her station, Seven of Nine glanced quizzically at Janeway. 
“At the time of my leaving the Collective, the Borg had not encountered such a ship. They are totally unknown to me.” 
From the now somewhat tattered Ops station, Ensign Kim piped up. 
“Captain, we’re being hailed!” 
“On screen!” 
“Captain Janeway I presume? At least, you look like her… anyway, I am Commander Gregari of the Imperial Star Destroyer Raven. We are dispatching shuttles with troops to deal with your Borg infestation. I strongly advise you to lock down decks where Borg have been detected, until my people arrive.” 
Incredulous, staring at the screen, Janeway took in the human being staring back at her, in a uniform totally unlike any she had seen a human wear, except perhaps that it bore a vague resemble to some Nazi uniforms from World War 2. 
“Where… where did you come from?” 
The commander calling himself Gregari smiled arrogantly 
“From a galaxy far, far away. Now Captain, please, time is of the essence.” 
*** 
With forcefields and bulkheads holding the Borg in the aft quarter of the ship, several Voyager crewmembers gaped as the white-suited Stormtroopers marched down to engage the Borg. Carrying Merr-Sonn thermal detonators, and E-11 blaster rifles, they were an imposing sight. Two teams of eight waited as Tuvok opened entry hatches to the infested decks, and down the troopers dropped, immediately looking for signs of enemy activity. 
The Borg had already gone to work, with a small number of Voyager’s crew captured and in the process of being assimilated. Once active and intelligent eyes were now cold, emotionless, and faces that were once pink and animated were now pale and lifeless. Glowing greens and low lighting from everything else made them look like zombies. 
Assessing the situation, the troopers branched out, waiting for the order to fire. Using hand signals, one trooper took his grenade from his belt, and with a nod from his sergeant, primed and threw it into the midst of a group of drones, who were in the process of assimilating a corridor, transforming the once gleaming silver walls into dark, mangled technological nightmares. 
The grenade detonated, and pieces of Borg drones flew from the now burning region. Like a switch had been thrown, the remaining Borg snapped into life, advancing on the Imperial positions, but the drones had nothing to answer the sudden hailstorm of rifle fire; red bolts blowing clean through drone after drone, and blasting pineapple-sized chunks from Borg alcoves and machinery. Relentless, the Borg continued their approach, but the troopers were on the move now, snapping off shots with deadly accuracy. Ducking through corridors that soon became pockmarked and smashed, the troopers effortlessly took out drone after drone, until there was not a single monstrosity moving. 
*** 
“You’ll have to forgive me Commander, only, when we were flung from Federation space, we had no idea that the wormhole could connect with other galaxies. It’s a little hard to believe.” 
Janeway ordered two coffees from the replicator in her ready room, then settled down on the couch next to Gregari, passing over the drink. The Imperial commander sniffed it tentatively, then took a sip. His eyes bulged a little. 
“This has some kick to it! An alcoholic beverage akin to your earth, whiskey I believe it’s called?” 
“Good heavens, no.” Laughed Janeway. “Coffee is a stimulant. Contains caffeine, one of my vices.” 
“Ah, I see. On to your query though, I don’t think the wormhole in your galaxy was meant to be able to reach my galaxy. Some kind of accident or process caused one end of the wormhole to shift, but don’t ask me how. Technobabble doesn’t interest me.” Gregari waved his hand dismissively, drinking some more coffee. “Mmm, very tart. At any rate, how the wormhole reached my galaxy is irrelevant, the fact is, the Empire is here now, and we are engaging in diplomatic relations with your Federation. We want to make a gesture of friendship, and we can think of no better gesture than to bring you and your ship home. We can be there in… oh, a little over a day.” 
Janeway gaped. 
“A day?” She replied, incredulous. Gregari smiled, resisting the urge to take a dig at puny Federation technology. 
“We got out here didn’t we, to find you?” Empire propulsion technology has had the advantage of a few thousand years to develop. It’s highly advanced. But enough about technologies. As I said, we’re eager to befriend your Federation. You are human; so am I. It makes sense that we are stronger as a whole, better. The Empire can be a force for good in this galaxy, uniting it under a common flag.” Inside his head Gregari groaned. He was parrotting these words, wishing instead for the quick option- conquest. Oh well, the Borg seemed both stubborn and stupid. The odds were good for a bit of action there. He smiled. 
“Come Captain, it’s time to take you home.” 
*** 
On the surface, Sisko was as delighted as anyone else that Voyager was home. The gesture had been unconditional, and it had gone down well at the Admiralty, not to mention the general public. Still, to Sisko, it all seemed too good to be true. 
In honour of the event, and to thank the Imperials for their act, a celebration had been arranged in Quarks, and now gathered there were the senior staff of the station, along with Admiral Beniga, Commander Gregari and Mara Jade. Drink flowed freely to guests and customers, as latinum flowed freely into Quark’s coffers. The Starfleet officers looked distinctly uncomfortable in their dress uniforms (understandable, given how horrid they were), and so moved stiffly, much to the amusement of the Imperials. 
Sisko made good with the pleasantries, silently cursing how once this was over, he would once again be removed from the equation. 
From the corner of his eye, as his glass of Andorian whiskey rested between his fingers, Sisko spied Bashir and the Imperial attaché, Mara Jade settling down in a corner of the bar, talking in low tones. Grinning, Sisko could only shake his head. 
“I see our good doctor is making friends.” Jadzia had moved from the bar to stand with Sisko, now herself noticing Bashir and Jade getting cosy. 
“Trust Bashir to set his sights on the new girl.” Agreed Sisko. Eyes twinkling for a moment, he couldn’t resist his next remark. “Not jealous are you old man?” He rumbled. 
“Ben! No I’m not jealous, I’m engaged remember?” Jadzia playfully slapped her captain on the shoulder, laughing. 
Silence fell, as they simply listened to other patrons and guests, and Sisko pondered his thoughts, wondering for a moment if he was letting his jealousy about not being involved with the Empire cloud his judgement on them. After all, soon the Federation would have access to another galaxy, with all the opportunities for exploration and trade that would enrich the Federation. Then there was the little matter of how a single Imperial ship had effortlessly defeated eleven Borg vessels. If the Empire was willing to assist in fighting off the Borg, then Sisko had to admit, even he wasn’t sure if he’d turn down their presence. 
So why, despite all of that, did he have doubts? 
Was it the pace of it all? Six months had gone by, and already the Federation was willing to accept foreign outposts on it’s doorstep, and full diplomatic relations with a power that was still, for the most part, a complete unknown. 
“Penny for your thoughts?” Came the soft voice of Jadzia from beside him, pulling him back to reality. 
“Oh, just, wondering if the Admiralty knew what they were doing when they agreed to this outpost… and wishing they’d approve better uniform designs.” Sisko ran a finger along his collar, irritated by the fabric. 
“Ben.“ Began Jadzia, voice now firm, but fair. “You’ve been wondering about the Admiralty for the past few months now, and I’ve seen get more and more broody about it over that time.” She paused, lips curling upward in that slight grin of hers. “Why don’t you talk to Starfleet, find out why they agreed to allow this base for the Empire? Raise your concerns with them. You’re a respected captain and they’ll listen to you.” 
Sisko smiled wryly. 
“Not so respected that I get to run first contact meetings, and not so respected that I’m involved in any stage of proceedings.” He replied lightly, but with an undercurrent of bitterness. 
“Look, either you can moan and groan about what’s happened, or you can try to get involved again now. Don’t let me tell what being a captain is all about, but as someone with seven lifetimes behind me, let me tell you that you can’t afford to worry about past events, you can only try to influence what happens next.” 
“And with so many lifetimes, I’m sure you’re an expert at moving on, Old Man.” Growled Sisko, smiling a bit more sincerely this time. 
Jadzia cocked her head to the Imperial crowd. 
“Go, talk to Starfleet, I can cover for you. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a blow-by-blow account of what Julian gets up to.” The Trill’s eyes flashed fiendishly. 
“I don’t doubt it. I wonder if someone should tell him, that Miss Jade might not be in these parts for very long.” Mused the captain. 
“Ben. Starfleet. Go.” 
“Yes Ma’am!” 
*** 
“Good evening Ben, you’re looking sharp.” Ribbed Admiral Ross. 
Sisko snorted in humour, but that quickly fell away as he settled behind his desk. 
“Admiral, I was wondering if you had a moment to discuss something important?” He asked formally. 
“Certainly, go ahead.” 
Taking a deep breath, Sisko locked eyes with the Admiral. 
“Frankly sir, I think Starfleet and the Federation are making a huge mistake in permitting the Empire a foothold in our territory. We have virtually no idea about these people, or what they are truly like, aside from the fact that they have enormously powerful ships, incredibly fast propulsion systems and more than likely tremendous resources. It is my belief sir, that in face of acquiring such technologies, Federation officials have rushed far too blindly into dealings with the Empire, without properly ascertaining whether they could be a threat.” 
On the screen, Ross looked momentarily taken aback. He leaned back in his chair, looking like he was composing a reply in his head. Sisko simply waited. 
“That’s quite an accusation there Ben, to say that Federation officials- the Federation council no less, not to mention the top Admirals in Starfleet- are being led by a carrot. If you want I can pass on your concerns, but they won’t take kindly to that kind of a scolding from a captain.” 
“I feel it’s necessary sir, that I express my opinions on the matter as strongly as is reasonable. I’d be derelict in my duty if I did otherwise.” 
“Ok, I’ll put the message across. Is there anything else?” Asked Ross. 
“Thank you sir, and no, I think that about covers how I feel.” 
“I’ll let you know how it turns out, but remember Ben, it’s your head on the block here.” Warned the Admiral. “Ross out.” 
*** 
Before Mon Mothma, Luke felt very small, and feared it showed in the form of nervous breathing and profuse sweating. He hoped he was wrong. 
In the small state-room aboard the frigate Argo, Mothma looked old. It may have been a trick of the lighting, but as she settled behind her simple wooden table, beckoning Luke and Leia to do the same, the young Skywalker knew it was the stress and fear of the life she led, that had caused the Rebellion’s leader to appear older than she was. 
“So, Obi-wan knew of something… something that could save us.” Turning her chair to face the stars, Mothma looked contemplative. 
“He was a Jedi, he knew things. He could perceive time and space, understand it all in a way none of us can. I want to believe you Luke, but he had years of training and experience in the Force… you only have a few weeks. I’m sure that already you can sense things that I can’t- but I simply can’t commit the fleet to search for something you can’t pinpoint. Not even if it has Obi-wan’s backing. Space is just too vast.” 
Disappointment crept into Luke’s face, though he did his best to hide it. He knew that there was a hope out there, if only someone would give him the chance to find it! 
“However, we don’t have to commit the entire fleet…” Mothma swung round to face Luke again. “We can spare a ship, one ship, if I can have your word Luke, as a man who knew Obi-wan, that hope exists out there, that there is a chance for peace in our time.” 
This was it. The leader of the Rebellion was putting her faith in Luke, if he could swear honestly that he believed what Obi-wan had sensed was a force for good. He looked Mon Mothma in the eyes, trying to look as open, as honest as he could, to feel as honest as he could. 
“I know, without any doubt, as Obi-wan knew, that there is a… power out there, that holds our future, and if we control that power, we can be free.” His blue eyes sparkled, his voice rumbled. He knew he was right. 
“Then…” Spoke Mothma slowly. “The chance to find that power is yours.” A smile crossed her lips. “And I think I know the ideal ship for you.” 
*** 
Fuming, Han grumbled as he hoisted case after case of supplies onto the Millennium Falcon. He’d came to the aid of the Rebels in their hour of need, and his thanks? A mission to the middle of nowhere to find a ‘something’ at the request of a kid-just-turned-man, all thanks to the whim of a ghost. 
“I better get paid extra for this!” He muttered to himself, straining as an anti-grav unit was pulled up the ramp and into his ship. Han was starting to doubt that he could take off, such was the sheer amount of food, water, medical supplies and weapons that were now onboard. 
Approaching the ship came Luke, Chewbacca, the droids C3-PO and R2-D2, and lastly, to Han’s surprise, a fatigue-dressed Princess Leia. For a moment he considered that to be a pleasant surprise, but the thought of a needy, pushy princess on a long-term mission like this promised to be turned his blood cold. 
Stepping off the Falcon, Han greeted each member of his ‘crew’, ushering them onboard, but put up a hand to halt Leia, who shot him a dirty look. 
“Whoa there Princess, but I don’t recall anyone telling me you were coming.” Said Han. 
“Then I guess you weren’t properly informed.” Snapped Leia, who moved to go past Han, who again blocked her path. 
“Look, sister, this ain’t no pleasure cruise or luxury trip to a civilised world. We are gonna be out there, for who knows how long, searching for something we don’t even know exists. I don’t think you realise what you’re getting yourself into.” Replied Han. 
Leia cast him a condescending look. 
“Look, Captain Fly-boy, I know things, and I know people, and I have connections. I can talk our past vile smugglers- not too dissimilar to you- and I have deep pockets. So, I’m coming along, whether you like it or not.” She pushed past Han, who looked contrite for a moment, before cursing and stomping after the princess. 
*** 
Beniga studied the tapes from the Raven with great interest, from the comfort of his quarters on the Star Destroyer. A cluster of Borg cubes came menacingly toward the Raven, only to be torn apart by a hailstorm of turbolaser fire. One cube was left standing by the end, yet it was effectively dead, ion cannons have disabled it. 
The same cube was now hovering by the construction crews and work-bees that were building the Imperial outpost, and Imperial scientists had come through the wormhole a few days earlier to begin their study of the alien race. Lt Commander Jos was heading up the team, much to his delight. The young officer had clearly been keen to learn more about the Borg, and Beniga had no doubt that Jos would uncover secrets that would benefit the Empire one day. His first report was due in the next three days, and Beniga was sure it would be huge. 
Right now though, his first officer, Commander Gregari, was waiting for him in conference room one. 
As he made his way to the conference room, Beniga was sure that Gregari would raise two points. One, the pointlessness of the peaceful approach toward the Federation, and two, the need for more military vessels to launch into a campaign against the Borg. The Admiral was growing weary of explaining the former to the Commander, and so was tempted to agree to a war against the Borg, purely to keep Gregari from making a nuisance of himself in the coming months, as diplomacy and efforts to unify the Milky Way moved up a gear. Gregari simply did not understand what an unspoilt, loyal galaxy would mean for the Empire. 
Arriving at the conference room, Beniga found Gregari already seated, studying a data pad. Immediately the Commander leapt to his feet in acknowledgement of his superior. 
“Admiral.” 
“Commander. Please, sit back down. Now… “ Beniga slipped into a seat as well. “I believe you wanted to discuss a couple of things?” 
“Yes sir. Admiral, I don’t understand, why are we wasting our time with these meetings and gestures of friendship? The Federation is but a bug to us, and spending all these time to befriend a bug seems like a waste of resources, rather than efficient use of them. We could have already been in complete control of the Alpha Quadrant by now if we’d invaded.” 
Beniga smiled, largely to himself. Gregari was saying exactly what he’d thought the younger man would say. 
“Commander, complete control is a relative term. Yes, in terms of a military victory, we could already have been the dominant power here, but the people of just about every government in the Alpha Quadrant would be against us, making use of paramilitary tactics against our garrisons and ships. We’d need to bring in a steady stream of supplies to support forces here, and that could alert the Rebellion back home that we have a campaign going on. Imagine the horror if the Rebels collapsed the wormhole, with hundreds of thousands of Imperial troops still here? Such an event might cause the collapse of the Empire.” 
Gregari simply looked impassive. Beniga doubted that the Commander agreed with him for one second. 
“I see. But be that as it may, there are still threats here that cannot be negotiated with. We’ll need a military force- and a logistics train- to deal with them.” 
“I assume you’re referring to the Borg? On that count, I agree. For one, the goal will be to totally wipe them out, thus meaning we won’t need troop transports. For another, they are the Federation’s most dire threat. Destroying them will bring favour for us.” Beniga leaned back, wondering if he was about to regret letting Gregari off the leash. “I sent a message through the wormhole about an hour ago, requesting extra ships, mostly frigates and cruisers, but including some Star Destroyers and interdictors, for you to lead against the Borg. In total, you’ll be in charge of some three hundred vessels.” 
Looking delighted, Gregari raised his chin. 
“I will make certain that no Borg survives our assault.” Something about the hunger in Gregari’s eyes showed Beniga that the Commander meant that. Still, if it helped the political aims of the assignment… 
“Wipe them out, all of them.” 


Chapter 5


The huge complex buzzed with life.  Twisted, awful life.  The more the enemy was engaged, the more it became clear to the soldiers fighting them that it wasn't just a public relations move, it was a necessity.
Seeing helpless people forced to engage in the murder of billions had awoken something in the Imperial officers.  They weren't just destroying the Borg, they were liberating the trillions of enslaved minds that had been overtaken by the oppressive will of the Collective.  As (newly promoted) Captain Gregari's Star Destroyer, the Raven, and her support ships, an entire flotilla of frigates, corvettes and dreadnoughts, closed in on Unimatrix One, the captain took heart from the fact that this would be the last engagement- the Borg were gone elsewhere, this was their last stronghold.
Unlike previous engagements, Gregari did not expect an easy fight.  The structure they faced was large enough, and powerful enough, to dish out damage, particularly against the smaller vessels.  Fortunately, TIE Defenders and Missile Boats were quick, nimble fighters that could launch powerful rockets and bombs, straight into the heart of the enemy.  A large contingent of Borg cubes and spheres had been detected at the base, but they would pose no threat.  If they were true to form, the Borg would send their ships in to assimilate the Imperial starships, despite the futility of their efforts having been proven time and time again.
"All ships and fighters report ready Captain." Stated Lt. Commander Jos formally.  To Gregari, the scientist almost seemed disappointed- as though he was about to wipe out a fascinating research project, or laboratory specimen.  Too bad.
"Order the ships to move in closer, lets get the attention of those Borg vessels.  Once they're engaged, order the fighters to begin their strikes."
At the signal, with the Raven taking point, the Imperial fleet moved forward, advancing upon Unimatrix One.  As expected, the Borg began to send out their ships, some thirty vessels, black and with glowing green innards, that would look menacing, if it weren't for their pathetic firepower.  
Immediately the Borg ships opened fire, and the Imperial vessels were mildly rocked by the hit of torpedoes against their ships.  In response, a pair of lancer frigates opened up all batteries on the nearest sphere, tearing to shreds in a fireball that briefly illuminated the rest of the fleet.
Without wasting any time, the fighters shot forward, screaming toward their target areas, increasing speed to make themselves harder to track.  They banked toward the structure at brake-neck speeds, firing off their rockets at the last moment, as Borg phaser fire and torpedoes shot furiously at them.  One or two fighters were hit, and in a blaze of glory fired off as many bombs as they could, before colliding against the Borg station.  Their weapons found their target zones, and blew tremendous holes into Unimatrix One, hot debris spewed everywhere, as the fighters veered off and prepared for another attack run.  Their primary aim was to destroy or disable enough of the enemy station to make it safe for the capital ships to close in and finish it off, and already, after one round of bombs, it appeared that part of the station was struggling to maintain power, the crackle of damage seen where the huge explosions had ripped into it.
As the fighters began to devastate their target, the Imperial fleet was cutting into the Borg fleet like a knife through butter.  Gregari found it amusing in many respects- the Borg were the most inept enemy he had ever fought, lacking in any form of tactics, and unable to advance their technology through research.  It was inevitable that they'd come across a race one day more advanced, that would repel them.  It was Gregari's fortune that it was the Empire that had that honour.
A second wave of fighters now advanced, equipped with more heavy bombs and missiles.  They swooped upon their target areas like birds of prey, showing no mercy.  With large portions of the superstructure already suffering the effects of damage, Borg weapons fire was sparser for the second attack, and the fighters easily dove upon the last bastion of the Borg, their bombs ploughing into the structure with huge fireballs, plumes of vaporised material flung away.
It was a slaughter.  With the fighters getting deep into Unimatrix One and delivering their powerful payloads into the heart of the Collective, it was all the Borg could do to even maintain a Collective.  
Deep in the heart of the Unimatrix, she fumed with impotent rage, the sheer indignity of the scale of her defeat.  From controlling thousands of worlds and trillions of Borg, to one base that was now being dismantled.  And all of it, gone in just a few months.
A concept was brewing deep inside of her, one so alien, so against everything she was.  The notion of negotiation.  Of surrender.  Her will to survive was beginning to overcome her pride.  As she stood in her chamber, drones surrounding her, drones that had not yet become disconnected from the damage raging across the base, the Borg Queen stepped up to a control panel, and steeled herself.  Closing her eyes, she silently instructed the base to hail the alien vessel, and then spoke for all the remaining Borg.

"Captain, we are being hailed, by the base." Stated Jos flatly as the last remaining Borg cube erupted behind them.
"It will be the same drivel as before.  Cut them off." Gregari waved dismissively with a hand, not at all interested.
"I tried sir, but they keep repeating.  It's not the same frequency as their usual transmissions either."
His curiosity suddenly aroused, Gregari eyed the viewscreen.
"Open a channel.  Lets see what they have to say."
"I am the Borg." The female voice was a surprise, a single voice at that.  
"What you are is an abomination.  What do you want?"  Answered Gregari vehemently.
"You are about to destroy us, destroy me- I can't allow that.  I want to survive."
Another wave of fighters closed in, explosions still enemating from the Borg structure, as Gregari pondered the woman's words with interest.
"I find it curious that you can even hope for mercy, when you have shown none to countless billions in your time.  How many beings have been enslaved against their will, their bodies mutilated, their minds engulfed by the evil Collective?"
"I don't expect you to understand.  You are a simple human, and your race has power, not greatness.  Not perfection."
Gregari snorted.  "Perhaps the Empire is not perfect, but compared to your puny little Collective, it is great- none of that matters though.  You said it yourself, we have power.  You do not.  Right now, I have the power at my fingertips to see to the total destruction of your twisted form of life.  This simple human will determine what happens to you."
From the sensor station, Jos gestured to his Captain, indicating that he had something to say.  Gregari responded by closing the channel, a smirk on his face.  Whoever he was talking to would be scared at the sudden closing of communications.  Doubtless they expected death to follow at any moment.
"Yes Commander?" Asked Gregari wearily.  Another science lecture…
"Sir, this is definitely not normal Borg behaviour.  We have a unique opportunity here." Bubbled Jos excitedly, the possibility hitting his mind like lightening.
"What would that be?"
"The apprehension of a live Borg, one that had surrendered to us- one we could use as slave labour, to teach us how to develop adaptive technologies.  The Rebels would never be able to touch our ships."
More interested now that the idea of defensive technology was being thrown about, Gregari stood, pacing a little.
"Do you think the Borg would willingly help us?  Or betray once they had learned enough about our technology?" The cynic in him demanded the question.
"It's possible, but I think right now, they are more concerned with survival."
It was a curveball from his science officer, no doubt about that.  It was also something that would not please the Federation- which almost struck Gregari as a reason to do it, though he found himself considering Beniga's orders and plans, and the officer in him demanded that he did not rock the boat.  Integrating the Federation into the Empire would be easier if the Empire defeated the biggest threat to the Federation.
"While your idea had merit Commander, but I don't believe it would further the long-term aims of the good Admiral Beniga.  Besides, I don't like the idea of letting the Borg take a close look at our technology- and why should we show mercy to such a barbaric race anyway?  Re-open communications."
Disappointed, but understanding, Jos re-opened the channel.
"Borg person, thing, whatever it is that you are, I have considered your wishes, and I have reached my decision.  The Borg are a barbaric, evil race, without mercy or regard for the rights and wishes of other life forms.  If I let you live today, you might return in the future, and I cannot possibly permit that.  Close channel."
Smiling now, Gregari could only imagine what the Borg were thinking, as Imperial forces moved in, taking apart what left of their base, piece by piece.

"The Klingons are still maintaining an aggressive posture toward the Empire, and also to us, for associating with them.  They believe that a human conspiracy is underfoot, one that will undermine them." Said Captain Picard, seated comfortably in Conference Room 14 on Starbase 74.  Around him were representatives of the Federation Council and the Admiralty, who sat attentive, keen to get some insight on what had been happening lately.
They knew of the general details, having read reports and statements, but getting a first-hand account of the situation from someone who had been in the thick of things offered a different kind of insight.  Picard had been alternating between having talks with Imperial ambassadors on Deep Space Nine, and travelling with them to conferences on Vulcan, earth and Andor, during the past six months.  As a result, he had developed an understanding of the Empire that was currently better than that of anyone else in the room.
"If the Klingons try anything, the Empire can easily repel them.  They must know it would be a foolish move to antagonise the Empire, or us, for that matter." Replied Admiral Ross, who was perhaps more keen than anyone else to learn more about what was happening on the frontier.
"True Admiral, but the mood when we attended a meeting on Q'onoS, the mood was belligerent, to put it mildly.  I suspect that if the Klingons fear there is the slightest possibility of an attack or subterfuge, they will move against us."
"And the Empire has no luck in convincing them that their intentions are honourable?"
"No sir.  Ambassador Tolik spoke at length of the Empire's peaceful intentions, as did his attaché Mara Jade, but the Klingons didn't accept that.  If anything, they were more angry by the time we left, for daring to lie to their faces."  Picard sighed.  He knew how things might look to other governments- humans doing business with other humans from another galaxy, humans who were in possession of powerful weaponry and considerable resources… yet the Klingons, who had worked with and fought alongside humans as allies… there had often been friction, but not like this.  Did the Klingon Empire really understand humanity so poorly?
"Admiral." Picard continued. "I think we need to consider the possibility that the Klingons might take aggressive action against us in the not-so-distant future.  The mood at the meeting was… passionate, to say the least."
Looking tired, Admiral Ross rubbed his nose.  Glancing at Picard, the captain could see in the admiral's eyes the stress and worry that came with the rank.  He saw it reflected in the eyes of the Council members and the rest of the Admiralty, and knew more than ever that he could never give up command of a ship.  
"We'll keep trying to talk to the Klingons.  What of the Romulans?" Asked Ross wearily.
"The Romulans are suspicious, but not as much as we had first thought.  They seemed open to reason during our discussions, and despite one or two cutting remarks about humans, the atmosphere was amiable.  I'm surprised actually- I didn't think the Romulans would accept the Empire, but they appear to be doing so, for the moment."
To Picard, this was most unusual.  Romulans had a low opinion of the Federation, and in particular of humans.  Long had the Romulans believed that the Federation plotted against them, and the Romulans had long plotted against the Federation.  The distrust and disdain of humanity had been present at their meeting with the Empire, but it had been muted.  Instead the Romulans had seemed more interested in what the Empire had to offer.  They, like the Federation, had taken note of the destruction of the Borg, a selfless act that had purged the galaxy of one of it's biggest dangers.  Such a display of strength had apparently earned the admiration and respect of some on the Romulan High Council.
There was much to be done though.  Old prejudices were still there, and a long-term peace deal was still some way off.  Still, Picard was more optimistic than ever about the situation.  The Empire had done much to elevate the opinion of humanity in the eyes of the Romulan Empire, and had also seduced more than one member of their Council with the promise of economic riches.
Another government that was more than intrigued about economic riches was the Ferengi Alliance.  The Imperial diplomats were in possession of much savvy and also some very good intelligence- they seemed able to understand what motivated a government after only a few short meetings with them.  Picard was faintly troubled by this, for it suggested that they had a method of information gathering unlike any previously encountered, and that opened up the possibility that they had infiltrated the Federation.
Just as quickly as the idea occurred to him, it left.  It was nonsense.  The Empire had been nothing but a force for good so far, having gone out of its way to aid the Federation in forming a lasting peace in the Alpha Quadrant, and even destroying the Borg, an act that Picard was thankful for on a very personal level.  His experience with the Borg had nearly destroyed him, and nearly cost humanity everything.  Finally, the threat was well and truly gone.
To Picard, the Empire had proven to be invaluable allies, selfless and honourable.  It made the Klingon Empire's paranoid reaction all the more bewildering.
The time ticked on by, as the Enterprise captain delivered his report.  Inwardly, he was tired and fed up with the endless bureaucratic processes that seemed to dominate diplomacy- at least, in this case.  Never had there been so many meetings and reviews and tactical updates to do.
Finally, just when he could feel fatigue setting in, Picard was given a reprieve.  The briefing finished, and the Admiralty appeared to be satisfied with what they'd heard.  Picard was dismissed, and he gladly took his leave of the Conference Room.  His ship was docked at the starbase, and when he saw her through a window, he was, as always, in awe of her beauty and grace.
The Enterprise-E hung in dock, a sight for sore eyes if there ever was one, the greatest honour that could ever have been bestowed upon him.  To captain the namesake that was once commanded by James Kirk himself… every so often, unbeknownst to his crew, buried in his heart of steely resolve, Picard allowed himself to be in awe of his command.  
There was one though, who knew this.  Someone who had been a part of the Imperial diplomatic team.  Someone who was plotting his downfall.

After more than one close call with the powerful Hutt family, Han Solo had decided that he needed to refresh himself on the art of being stealthy.  It was bad enough that word of Luke's death-defying destruction of the Death Star had gotten out, making him the number one target of Imperial forces, but the added and constant threat from the Hutts did nothing for Han's nerves.
The endless searching for some mythical Force-based help was also starting to grate on Han.  Luke was still determined, and so sure too, that this help was out there, and yet, after endless months of looking, they were no closer to finding it.  
Han was not alone in his mood.  Leia and Chewbacca were also growing restless, and weary of always having someone hunting them.  
Luke remained focused, almost obsessed.  His pursuit of this Force phenomenon was relentless, and had led to them pursuing every strange thing in every part of the galaxy.  More than once they had nearly been caught in the grip of a black hole, or destroyed by supernovae explosions.  Every tiny ripple he felt in the Force was deemed worthy of following up.
Then there was Luke's erratic behaviour.  Sometimes he would disappear off into the bowels of the ship, and no one would see or hear of him for hours at a stretch.  Not once did he mention what he was doing.
Currently Han's motley crew was all assembled and accounted for on the bridge of the Falcon, and Luke was talking about a new lead he had, a new sensation in the Force.  Han had learned to tune out Luke's ramblings- almost inevitably it was be another dead end, and almost certainly it would place them at risk of certain death.  
"It's on the edge of the galaxy, not far from Dantooine.  I know it.  It's something big." Said Luke, the words spilling from him excitedly.
"You're sure Luke?  We don't want to end up on the tail of a Super Star Destroyer, like we did before." Replied Leia, concerned that Luke's powers were still too chaotic and uncontrolled.  There was no doubt that Luke had a gift, but Obi-wan had the training, the experience.  Luke was barely a man.
"I know I've led us to a few trouble-spots before, but this time I know it!  I can feel the Force much more now, understand it better than I could in the beginning."
"No one doubts that your powers have grown Luke, but we have been at this for six months.  The Rebellion needs us Luke, we can't stay out here forever." Leia was as always, a voice of wisdom, of reason.  
"Please, Leia, just one more chance.  One more try.  Then I promise, that's it."
Chewbacca roared.
"You said it Chewie, Luke you said that three tries ago." Remarked Han, who was more fed up than ever.  Dantooine was a three day journey, and one that took them into territory that had recently been buzzing with Imperial vessels.
"What if we stop looking right before we find something?  What if we are this close, and stop, and lose out on this chance?"  Pleaded Luke.
"Hey, look, we don't even know if this mysterious thing can help us or not.  Between the word of an eccentric old man and a boy who's not even yet a man, leading us on one wild goose chase after another, I'm getting a little tired!" Snapped Han, who immediately decided t hat he'd been a tad harsh.  Luke glared at him with adolescent anger, and Leia looked non-plussed as well.  
"Hey, Luke, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap like that, it's just, between all the risks we're taking and how long we've been doing this, well it's getting weary.  I don't want to wind up dead because we pop out of hyperspace on top of a neutron star."
A bit calmer, nonetheless Luke still seemed excited.
"Just one final chance, that's it.  After that, we can shoot back to the Rebellion and you and Chewie can do whatever you like."
Faced with the young man's stare, his eagerness and passion, Han found himself wavering, yet again.  Chewbacca was looking at him sceptically, as if to say 'here we go again', and Han felt his resistance crumble.
"Ok ok, one more try, but then that's it.  Chewie, set a course for Dantooine."

With a wry expression under the mask, Vader recalled how furious Tarkin had been to learn that Rebels had indeed been present on Dantooine, especially given that the same system had been a test site for the Death Star nearly a year ago.  For an instant, the Sith Lord felt a pang of regret and sadness at his friend's death.  Tarkin had not been afraid to regard Vader as a person, rather than a feared abomination.
As he usually did when confronted with such feelings, Vader twisted them, used them.  The pain of his friend's death was used to fuel the hate, the anger that empowered him.  
Aboard the Executor, Vader headed for the Bridge, keen to get a report on the status of the newly completed Golam defence platform, the third to adorn the region.
Civilian traffic was restricted in the sector, for reasons of 'a natural hazard'.  It was easy enough to believe- there were various regions of the galaxy that were dangerous to traverse, and the result was that the Empire could keep the location of the wormhole a secret.
With dozens of Star Destroyers, three mighty Golam defence stations, and a multitude of support ships, it was unlikely anyone would want to pay the region a visit anyway.
As Vader arrived on the command deck, he was greeted with a yelp of surprise by a junior officer.  Displeased by such a lack of discipline, Vader was about to admonish the officer, when a new sensation gripped him.
There was a Force-user nearby, and getting closer.  It was also the reason for the officer's startled noise, something that Vader understood, as he felt the presence of the Force-user, and others… in a ship.
"Lord Vader, a civilian vessel has just entered the system!  It's small, four lifeforms aboard.  Sir, records indicate it is one of the vessels that attacked the Death Star near Yavin!" The young officer excitedly babbled, but Vader walked past him.  Captain Piett was now also checking the sensor readings and preparing to intercept the ship.
"Have fighter squadrons Alpha and Delta deploy and escort that ship to the hanger.  Send a message informing them to surrender and to follow our fighters to the hanger." Spoke Piet to the Operations officer.  He had pre-empted Vader, who now stood at his side, but the Sith Lord did not mind on this occasion.  He wanted that ship, and the Force-user onboard.

"We have got multiple sensor contacts, Imperial ships, of all shapes and sizes!" Han worked the controls on the Falcon, spinning the ship around, and for a moment, he was stunned by what he saw.
A huge bulging vortex of energy, unlike anything he had ever seen, billowing in hues of red and blue, loomed large over even the Imperial-class Star Destroyers.  Then, without any warning, it vanished, like a trapdoor snapping shut.
Luke clutched at his temple, and appeared to be in pain.  He muttered something, but Han wasn't in the mood for listening.  Whatever was going on, it was big, huge even.  All along, it looked like Luke had been right- only the hope of the galaxy was firmly in Imperial clutches.
Chewbacca growled, and Han groaned, as the sensors detected something else.
"We have incoming fighters, and a message from that Super Star Destroyer- they are demanding that we surrender." Said Han testily.
"Not a chance, we have to get out of here1" Replied Leia, now tending to Luke, who had gone pale, looking on the verge of collapse.
"There's… something… on… powerful… evil…" He was sweating now, his eyes wide with fear.
"Well, there's no time to worry about anything, because we are outta here!" Cried Han.  

At the first sign of a hyperdrive system coming online, the TIEs opened fire.  They landed a few blows, but couldn't catch the Falcon.  In a heartbeat, she had fled.

The weeks on Deep Space Nine had been long, and as those weeks turned into months, they felt like years had gone by.  After the initial flurry of excitement and activity, the station was now once again a trading post and link to Bajor, and whilst it was felt that Captain Sisko still had an important job to do, everything was overshadowed by the Empire, by the new developments and the latest gesture of goodwill.
Ever since the first acts of kindness, Sisko had felt uneasy.  Something didn't feel right; his instincts told him to be wary of the Empire.  There was no basis for his feeling- all he knew was that a government rarely displayed acts of selflessness- there was always an agenda, a motive.  But what was it?
For others too, the Empire had brought change.  Doctor Bashir had spent more than one lonely evening at Quarks, waiting for the next occasion when Mara Jade would visit.  Every so often, the diplomats would come by this way on their way back through the wormhole, and on those occasions Bashir and Jade would spend their evenings talking and laughing and simply watching station life go by.  It was scary to admit, even to himself, but Bashir knew in his heart that his feelings were deeper than friendship- and he could only hope that Jade felt the same way.
In a few hours, an Imperial team was due to stop off at the station before departing back for home.  Jade would be among that team, and Bashir was doing his best not to wear a hole in the carpet on the Promenade.  His gut feeling was telling to tell Jade how he felt, but to engage in a relationship with a diplomat who didn't even live in the same galaxy?
There was the added complication of how Jade felt.  Did she harbour romantic feelings of her own?  Was he just a friend to her?  
"Doctor, whenever I see you these days, you are never standing still."
The gruff voice startled Bashir from his day dreams, and he turned, to find himself face to face with Odo.
"Ah, yes, well, restless mind, restless feet, as they say." Grinned Bashir.
"I doubt that it's your mind that's restless Doctor, I know that look, all too well."
"I don't know what you mean Constable." Came the calm, assured reply.
"Love Doctor.  Hidden, secret.  But I can see it written on your face, clear as day."
Bashir retained his startled look, but now for different reasons, worried now that his control- or lack thereof- was a talking point of the station.  After all, if it was obvious to Odo, it was probably obvious to everyone else.
"Relax Doctor, your secret is safe with me." Odo crossed his arms and walked off, secretly amused at the increase in Bashir's nerves.
Bashir was not alone in nervous waiting.  Onboard the Star Destroyer Raven, Mara Jade paced in her quarters, considering what she had to do- at least, she was trying to consider what she had to do.
Instead, her mind was distracted.  Since meeting Julian, she had felt a tug on her heartstrings, and that… that had other effects.  The lure of the Dark Side, her duty to serve the Emperor… the deception that she was taking part in… suddenly she was feeling torn between all of that, the power that she felt when she tapped into the Dark Side… and the power that Bashir seemed to have over her, when he smiled that boyish smile, and turned his dark eyes on hers.  
Seeds of doubt began to seep into her heart, but with resolve and steel that Palpatine himself had helped forge within her, Mara regained her focus.  Bashir was a pleasant diversion, but she her orders and she could not allow herself to be distracted.

"We must now prepare for an attack.  At the very least, for incursions and scans."
The conference room onboard the Executor was a foreboding place.  The walls were black, punctuated only by an occasional small light, and the table around which the officers were assembled was also black, but gleamed enough in the light to reveal the reflections of those around it.  Lord Vader enjoyed the way that even the Admiralty squirmed in his presence.
The Rebel ship had been identified as the Millennium Falcon, the ship that had brought Obi-wan aboard the Death Star, the ship that had opened fire on him just as he was about to destroy the Rebel X-Wing.
Vader had felt the same presence aboard the Falcon as he had in that X-Wing- the boy that had become infamous for the destruction of the Death Star- Luke Skywalker.
The being who had once been Anakin Skywalker had become obsessed with finding out more about Luke- Skywalker was not a common name, and it turned out that the Falcon had brought both him and Obi-wan from Tantooine, of all places.
Just the very memory of Tantooine brought back painful memories.  His first meeting with Padme, leaving his mother… and his return there, ten years later, when he had cradled his mother's broken body in his arms.
With the strength and will of a Sith Lord, Vader turned that hurt and pain into anger, into hate.  He still hated the barbaric Tusken Raiders, with a smouldering fury that fed his power.
Luke had been nearby, and his focus in the Force had grown.  He had become powerful, and yet was undisciplined.  Obi-wan must have told him of the Force, and perhaps trained him to some small degree, but not enough- and that was good news to Vader.  There existed the opportunity to turn Luke to the Dark Side.
Shaking himself from his musing, Vader brought himself back to the here and now.
It was Piett who had spoken first.  The sudden appearance of a ship with links to the Rebellion had triggered a tightening of the Empire's control over the sector, with hundreds of escort carriers, cruisers and frigates now swarming the region.  For a Captain, Piett had done well with the responsibility that he had suddenly faced when he took command of the Executor, and was in line for a promotion.  Vader had to admit to being impressed with how the young man was handling himself in the presence of both himself and the Admirality.  Right now Piett was addressing the Admiralty with a great deal of confident and composure, though Vader could sense that a lot of that composure was forced, and that inwardly Piett was nervous and fearful.  This was quite an assignment to have thrust upon him.
"In fact…" Continued Piett.  "I believe it might be advisable to accelerate our plans for this Milky Way galaxy.  The Rebels now know of this project's existence and might well take action to hinder it.  We need to secure the resources on the other side of that wormhole and ensure the Rebels can't gain support from the beings there."
Although their faces revealed nothing, Vader knew that as uncomfortable as the Admiralty were with his own presence, being advised by a Captain was even worse.  
At least they weren't Grand Admirals- that would have been a step too far.
"Are you certain Captain, that such bold measures are needed?  We already have a huge number of ships here to guard this wormhole, and Admiral Beniga's reports tell us that aside from the Klingons, the Alpha Quadrant is falling into line a nice pace."
Admiral Chekenza was in his early fifties, had still retained a healthy amount of jet-black, bushy hair.  It was rumoured that he had as many as eleven mistresses, four on Coruscant alone.  It would have surprised no one to learn that were true, given the bright blue eyes, the strong jaw, and the almost playful smile that were all in the man's arsenal of charms.  
It was easily for people to assume that he was nothing more than a womaniser, especially given the way he would flirt with just about every member of the opposite sex.  As a result of this assumption, people would also underestimate him, which was a huge mistake.
Chekenza possessed a keen mind for knowing what resources he needed to win a battle, and how to deploy those resources.  He was not a leader from the front, but he could manipulate the flow of battle from his command post with devastating effectiveness.  It helped that he saw his troops and ships as numbers, rather than lives.
The Admiral was also cautious.  He would not commit forces to a battle unless he was at least eighty percent certain of victory, and didn't approve of pointless shows of strength- it wasted energy.
Piett regarded him with a confident gaze.
"Sir, right now we know that a Rebel ship has pinpointed this location, and we know that in recent months the Mon Calarmari have been constructing cruisers for them.  We know that they are resourceful and that they are cunning.  If they penetrate the wormhole and gain any sort of influence on the peoples beyond it, or worse, if they collapse the wormhole… hundreds of thousands of Imperial personnel, thousands of ships, would be stuck.  To put it mildly, it would be a Public Relations disaster for the Empire."
Vader now decided to add his weight to Piett's request.
"I felt a presence on the Falcon, a dangerous presence.  The Jedi may not be as extinct as we thought.  They are a threat to the Empire, and must be extinguished.  Under no circumstances must the Jedi discover our plans, or all could be lost.  The Emperor's design for the Milky Way must be accelerated."
The Admirals fell silent.  They were prepared to challenge Piett, but to argue against Vader was another prospect entirely.  Simply put, none of them wanted to die today.
"Summon Death Squadron.  It is time to hunt down the Rebellion."

It had been some hours since the Falcon's daring jaunt to Dantooine, and now the small ship was heading toward the remote system of Hoth, where Han hoped to still find the Rebels.
It was a long shot- it had been a long time, and in the climate of fear and betrayal and seemed to have enveloped the galaxy, it wasn't wise to stay in one place for long.  
Conversely, it meant that the Rebels, knowing this philosophy, might well have decided to take the opposite course of action.  
Luke had locked himself away in the Falcon's small cabin, and had been there for hours.  Han didn't want to even hazard a guess as to what the young Force user was up to.
Leia had tried to go to Luke, but he hadn't even answered the door chime.  Since then, all of them had tried to make sense of what they had seen.
"I just don't get it- Luke was right all along, and he's not even gloating about it.  I would!" Remarked Han, wearily contemplating the lights and switches in front of him.
"Well, thankfully, not all of us are you." Retorted Leia, her eyes sparkling mischievously.  
Han simply huffed.
"Well come on, he could at least explain to us what's so special about that thing we saw.  I'd like to know a little more about it, wouldn't you?"
"Well… I would like to know more.  But Luke will tell us when he's ready." Replied Leia thoughtfully.
"I hope so.  I hate flying in the dark."
"Raawwwwwwwr." Came Chewbacca's input.
"I couldn't put it better Chewie- Luke's acting mighty weird."

The spirit of the Jedi lived on, flowed through the galaxy, beyond the grasp of Vader and the Sith.  Obi-wan now felt that Luke was ready to take his place amongst the ranks of the Jedi, but before he could do that, he would need to complete his training.  Obi-wan could only do so much.
On a remote planet, swamp-like and clouded by the Dark Side, awaited Luke's destiny.  So it was that Luke would go there, when the time was right.  For now, young Skywalker and his friends had other, more immediate concerns, and Obi-wan would not interfere.

As the Falcon popped out of hyperspace, Luke rejoined the others in the cockpit.  Before them was Hoth, a snowball in space, a frigid, almost lifeless world.  
Han's hunch was about to be tested.
"Ok Chewie, open a channel, lets see if anyone's down there." 
"Rawwrrrrgh!" Translated as 'channel open'.
"This is Captain Solo of the Millennium Falcon, I come bearing gifts for my employers." The code that they had agreed would let the Rebels know they hadn't been compromised.
For a moment, there was nothing- no response.  Then the faintest click, and a voice.
"Captain Solo, it's good to hear your voice.  We were starting to think you'd been lost."
Han smiled, and Leia positively beamed, so much so that for a moment Han's heart jumped.
"We request permission to land." Replied the rogue.
"Permission granted, we'll send you the coordinates."
"We did it!" Cried Leia, who wrapped her arms around Han in a warm hug, catching the captain off guard.  He responded, a little more warmly than he meant to, and they caught each other's eyes, suddenly embarrassed and peeling away from each quickly.
"We all did it." Said Han.  "And right now, I think I can safely speak for us all when I say, lets never do that again."
Luke smiled.  He knew that there was a lot more adventure still to come.
Echo Base was a well-concealed and well fortified installation, with a powerful theatre shield ready to be activated at a moment's notice.  The Falcon glided swiftly down to the base, and touched down gently in the hanger, where the weary crew disembarked, and Luke made a beeline for Mon Mothma.
In the meantime, General Rieekan had the unenviable task of debriefing Han and Leia.  The tired commander of Echo Base picked his way past crates and levers and wiring as he made his way to the hanger, where Han and Chewbacca were busy removing boxes of supplies. 
The news both Mothma and Rieekan were about to hear would be revolutionary.

Captain Gregari knew the plan was risky.  It would inevitably cost the Empire in lives and perhaps even a few ships, but it would prove the catalyst for uniting the Alpha Quadrant- in favour of the Empire.
On other ships, captains who knew about the plan could say nothing, knowing that they ran the risk of death, to their crews and themselves.  
Sensors bleeped and alarms blared into life as on panels and before the Imperial fleet, other ships shimmered into sight.  They were moving swiftly, and without any apparent warning, darts of green energy leapt from them, and crashed into the waiting Imperials.
Disruptor blasts and torpedoes initially tore chunks out of armour and sent destructive energies into the Imperial ships, including Gregari's Star Destroyer Raven.  The Captain winced as his ship rocked, and lights dimmed.  Out before the main window, he watched as a Corvette disappeared into a ball of rapidly expanding gas and debris.
"That's enough.  All ships, raise shields, launch fighters, and return fire, light and medium guns only." The plan had to look genuine, for the sake of what was to come.  Therefore, the crews had to respond as though they were the victims of a vicious assault, one that they ultimately repelled.  
There were only some twenty or so Imperial vessels, and nearly a hundred enemy ships.  Yet the firepower difference was such that it didn't matter.
Thousands of turbolaser bolts shot through space and splashed into enemy shielding, like relentless rain.  Almost immediately the smaller ships suffered catastrophic shield failure, and shortly thereafter were turned into nothing more than hot pieces of tumbling metal.
Even the larger enemy ships were struggling to hold out in the face of such immense firepower.  Soon cruisers were losing their shielding, and bridge officers screamed at their helmsmen to take evasive action, only such was the storm around them that there could be no escape.  
Soon, only a handful of ships remained- the Klingon flagship, the Negh'Var, amongst them.  
"Ion cannons." Came Gregari's order.  And duly, Imperial ships now switched to their disabling weapons, blanketing the Negh'Var and any other remaining Klingon ships with the blue bolts.  Disabled, not even able to trigger their self-destruct mechanisms, the Klingons could now only watch from their viewports as Imperial shuttlecraft zeroed in on their positions, and listen as Imperial cutting lasers sliced through airlocks.
Klingons were noted for being determined warriors, ready and willing to fight to the death, and as Imperial Stormtroopers burst onboard, corridors were alight with disruptor and laser fire, scorching walls and blasting holes in doorways.  As determined as the Klingons were, they could not hold back against such a ruthless, well trained foe, and one by one, across the surviving ships, they died, their bodies left holed from Imperial weaponry.
It was on the Negh'Var that the fighting was heaviest.  General Martok led the charge against the invaders, his disruptor fire finding it's mark and even killing a few Stormtroopers.  But not even he was a match for the skill and experience of the attackers, who switched their weapons to stun without warning, leaving Martok and his guards unconscious.  The scene was repeated across the remaining Klingon ships, and the Stormtroopers now completed the final phase of the Imperial plan, delivering Martok, and the remaining captains to the Raven.
On the Bridge of the Raven, Gregari smiled.  This stage of the plan had gone without a hitch.

The news networks were in a frenzy.  Admirals and Councillors and politicians were all clamouring for information, and the official channels were struggling to cope.  It was well known that the Klingons distrusted the Empire and its motives, but if the rumours were true…
Imperial ambassadors had returned to Imperial ships, which had in turn withdrawn to their base of operations near the wormhole.  As a gesture of friendship, Federation listening posts and sensor buoys were now scanning for Klingon activity.
What did it all mean though?  Could it be possible that something disastrous had happened?  Had the Klingons committed an act of war?  Had the Imperials been the victims of an unprovoked, merciless attack?
Hours passed, and the rumour mill began to slow down, but now, fear, worry began to set in.  Why had no official announcements been made?  What was going on?  What was going to happen?
Then finally, seven hours after the rumours had first surfaced, Captain Gregari made a statement to the Federation News Service.
"Noble citizens of the Federation, I am aware that for the past few hours, stories have been circulating of an attack against Imperial ships made by Klingon forces.  I can confirm that this took place, nine hours ago, and that as of now, the Empire has severed diplomatic relations with the Klingon Empire for this unprovoked attack.
Federation officials have graciously offered us the use of their medical facilities to help us treat our wounded, and have been supportive and helpful to all of us ever since the shocking attack took place.  I would like to extend my own personal thanks, and the gratitude of the families and friends of those lost today.
Disturbingly, the Empire has learned of the reasons behind the Klingons' attack.  We captured several Klingon captains and one Klingon general, and have discovered that for some time the Klingons have been distrustful of the Empire and also of the Federation, for associating with us.  An alliance of the Klingon Empire, the Gorn, and the Sheilak was preparing to launch an assault on the Federation, and we believe their attack on our ships today was an attempt to acquire Imperial technology.
My friends, in light of this threat, to both the Federation and the Empire, and most likely all who have been kind to us and expressed a desire to maintain diplomatic relations with us, the Empire is extending not only the hand of friendship but a guarantee of protection.  We can position ships at the most vulnerable points of your borders to ensure that our enemies will not be able to launch a successful invasion, and we can aid in counter-attacks should any incursions take place.  We will show to our enemies that our desire for friendship and co-operation will not be undermined by such vicious and barbaric attacks.  The Empire will not be driven away from our friends so easily.
I thank you once again, for your support, and your kindness, and most of all, your friendship.  Captain Gregari out.."
Citizens from the Federation, the Romulan Empire, the Cardassian Union, from a multitude of other governments… all of them had the same reaction.  Shock.  Anger.  Fear.
Those fears were tempered though, by the offer of support.  The Empire was going to stand by them, aid them.  The Klingons and the others had ensured only that they would be unable to carry out their plans, and sooner or later they would be forced to return to the negotiating table, from a position of weakness.
Predictably, the governments named as enemies by Captain Gregari reacted angrily to the Empire's accusations.  The Empire provided proof- holo-footage of interrogations and confessions by Klingon officers, and detailed computer records sliced from computers.  Perhaps the most shocking evidence though, was from the mouth of General Martok…

"There is no way I can accept this!" Captain Sisko tossed the Padd angrily to his desk, having read for the fourth time Martok's confession.  He'd seen the footage once, and the image of his friend, talking so openly, like he was almost proud of what the Klingons were planning… it just didn't feel right.  Something didn't fit.
A day had passed since Gregari's announcement, and Sisko had spent the past twenty-four hours trying to rationalise the actions of the Federation's former allies.  The Klingons knew as well as the Federation of the power of Imperial starships, yet footage from both combatants showed the Klingons firing first.  It was madness.
Ever since Admiral Ross had passed on Sisko's concerns about the Empire, he had found himself marginalised somewhat.  Admiral Benegia still spoke to him, and they had talked about the budding alliance, but it seemed clear that the Admiralty and Federation Council had 
told the Empire about Sisko's concerns, and since then, they hadn't wanted to deal with him.  
Since Captain Picard had made known his 'deep misgivings' about Sisko's comments, even Starfleet had been cold with him.
Now Captain Sisko felt out of the loop- information was hard to come by.  
"Ben, the evidence has been looked at by Starfleet's top computer experts.  There's no way anything's been faked.  I don't like it either, but it's impossible to argue this." Jadzia, standing in front of Sisko's desk, arms clasped behind her back, gave her Captain a firm, yet consoling look.  There was always a flicker of Curzon behind the eyes of the young woman, and thanks to the symbiont she carried within her, Jadzia knew how to handle her Captain's bad moods.
Sisko shook his head.
"Every fibre of my being says this is wrong.  I know Martok, I know he'd never have agreed with Gowron about this, much less lead the attack!  There must be something, somewhere, that's been overlooked!"
"But where Benjamin?  The records from the Klingon ships were conclusive.  Martok gave this plan his full backing." There was a trace of disappointment behind Jadzia's eyes.  She too had known Martok to be a good man, and her acceptance of the truth did not make that truth any easier to think about.
Computer records, interrogations, confessions… all of them condemned the Klingons.  
"I know, you're right old man.  It just hurts.  Ever since the Empire came, nothing has been the same, and the universe I knew has been falling away.  This just feels like another part of that."
"I know how you feel.  I can remember coming aboard this station, seeing it become the centre of business, of politics, of exploration… now, it might as well be barren down on the Promenade.  No more explorers- just an Imperial diplomat or two, and seedy characters visiting Quark's holosuites.  I yearn for the days when we were exploring new worlds, and poking around new phenomena." Jadzia sighed. "I would have liked to have seen Qo'noS again, I think Worf would like to see his home world again.  I doubt that will happen now."
Sisko snorted.
"I doubt any Federation citizen will set foot on Qo'noS for a hundred years."  A new thought entered Sisko's mind.  "How is Worf handling this?"
Jadzia's eyes took on a more sorrowful look.
"Worf refuses to believe it even more than you do.  Martok was his friend, and more than that, Martok took Worf into his House.  Worf is bracing himself for the shame and dishonour of it all, and doubts he will ever be permitted to speak to another Klingon ever again."
Rising from his desk, Sisko gazed out at the stars, that had once held so much promise for him.  
How much worse was it for Worf?  As part of Gowron's furious denials of the Klingon Empire's plans, the Klingon leader had denounced Martok, condemning him and his House has traitors to the Empire.  How would Worf feel about being labelled a traitor?  How would he feel about his friend being held in an Imperial prison cell?
"I have a feeling that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better." Said the Captain.
"I have the horrible feeling that you're right." 
Sisko was about to continue their conversation, when his desk bleeped.  Pressing a button, he spoke.
"Sisko here."
"Captain, the Enterprise is here.  They're requesting permission to dock." Came Kira's no nonsense tone.
"Direct them to Upper Pylon Two, I'll meet them there."
"Aye Captain."
Jadzia gave Sisko a quizzical look.
"What do you plan to say to Benegia?" She asked.
"I hadn't thought that far ahead."
"Well, I can imagine the mood the Imperials will be in.  I think I'll be giving them a wide berth."
Sisko smiled a soft, bitter smile.
"I wish I could."

Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she saw him, and she chided herself for it.  No one person was above the Dark Side- she could serve no one but the Emperor.
Still, as Mara Jade walked with Julian Bashir, she could not help but feel enchanted by him.
The Promenade was disappointingly lifeless, the only activity there was centred around Quark's Bar, and the Dabo tables.  To pass the time, they had booked a holosuite- and Mara had resisted the urge to eradicate Quark's smug smile.  
Bashir had selected a region of earth called Australia, and a region called '75 Mile Beach', on an island called 'Fraser Island'.
"Back in the early 21st Century, this beach had been known as a 'highway', a road.  It would have been a bumpy ride, I imagine, on this."
The good doctor was dressed in an 'Hawaiian' shirt, a strange and slightly nauseating blend of blues, greens and yellows, and long shorts of the beige variety.  Mara, dressed simply in a long, flowing blouse and a plain blue t-shirt, noted that it was a relief Bashir's fashion sense was not a measure of his medical skills.
The sand beneath them alternated between feeling soft, harsh and wet, and Mara could readily imagine vehicles with wheels finding this surface to be treacherous.  Her sandals did little to stop the sand spilling over her toes.
"Why would people willingly come to such a place?  The beaches and tracks are difficult to cross, the forests burn in the summer with a ferocity only nature can produce, and sand gets everywhere!" Grumbled Mara.  Bashir chuckled his lovely chuckle.
"It's all part of fun!  Fraser Island is unspoilt by human activities, a place where, even now, you have animals and plants that can't be found anywhere else on earth.  It's a living monument to history." Bashir sounded like he was addressing a seminar, given his excitement.
The sun was starting to set in the distance, the sky perfectly free of clouds.  Mara imagined that Fraser Island experienced beautiful sunsets, and that sharing one with Julian would be beyond beautiful.
Again she caught herself.  Bashir was an amusing diversion, pleasant, but not relevant to either her mission or who she was.
The two walked in silence for a moment, soaking up the atmosphere.  Only the sound of a bird's song would interrupt the quiet, and it was a beautiful sound.
"Mara…" Spoke Bashir after a moment.  "I was wondering, if I could ask you something…" The good doctor stared at the sand, steeling himself for a moment.
"What is it Julian?" She asked quietly.
"When you return home, to your galaxy, obviously, it will be difficult for us to see each other… and I want for us to keep seeing each other.  Which is why, I'm going to resign from Starfleet, to come with you."
Mara simply stood open-mouthed for a moment.  This was something of a thermal detonator.
"Julian, I… I… I don't know what to say.  My life involves a lot of travelling and meetings… I am flattered, but I don't think it would work.  I can't tear you away from your career, from your life."
Bashir turned to face her, his eyes very clear.
"Mara, ever since I laid eyes on you, I've felt this… pull, this tugging at my very being.  I know what it is now, as I look at you.  I have felt it building up, making my heart leap whenever I see you.  Mara Jade, I love you."
The thermal detonator exploded.  Suddenly Mara felt dizzy.  The Dark Side of the Force was powerful, and its hold on her strong- but her heart pounded, and at the word of love, it was as though someone had broken the fog of darkness with a spear of pure light.
"Julian… oh Julian… I… you… you have no idea what it means to me that you love me…"
Get a hold of yourself, stop acting like a fool!
"I am so honoured Julian.  You are the most charming, dashingly handsome man I have ever met, and I have to confess, I have feelings for you too, but trust me when I tell you that it would never work.  I can never be with you the way you want us to be together.  My work, my world, it makes it impossible."  Mara brought a hand to stroke Bashir's face, for a moment seeing in his eyes the twin sides of love- the pain and the glory of it all.
Her emotions, always kept in check, were now churning.  Gone was the focus, the drive, the determination that the Dark Side brought, replaced with something else… hope.
This isn't me, this is not what the Emperor would want me to be… Mara looked inside herself, for the spark of anger, for the energy and strength to centre herself.  The Empire had a mission for her and she was determined to fulfil it.
Keeping her voice soft, gentle, Mara smiled a little.
"Julian, you will be a fine catch for any woman, and you need to focus on that- me, I am not a realistic prospect for any man.  It just wouldn't work.  I'm sorry."
Bashir simply stood, forlorn, unable to think of anything to say.  Without a word, Mara turned, and left the Holosuite, not quite unable to vanquish the light now shining in her heart.

It should have come to no surprise that the Empire would find them eventually.  Nothing could hide indefinitely from Lord Vader and Death Squadron.
Bungling Imperial commanders had brought the fleet out of hyperspace too close to Hoth, and the Rebels had been able to raise their defence shields.  A frantic evacuation had followed, and somehow, the Rebels had escaped, a brave few holding of Imperial AT-ATs until the last evacuations had taken place.
Luke's X-Wing had zipped into hyperspace, for regions unknown, and now the Millennium Falcon fled from a trio of Imperial-class Star Destroyers, with the mighty Executor, Lord Vader's personal flagship, not far behind.  
Asteroids tumbled in chaotic courses, clashing with each other and sending shards of rock in all directions.  It was madness to try and navigate such a dangerous asteroid belt, yet it was either try it or face Imperial torture droids, and Han had no intention of surrendering.
The TIE Fighters that chased them weren't piloted as well as Han handled the Falcon.  One by one, they met their demise, shattered against asteroids.  Still the Star Destroyers pursued though, relentless.
Han was left with no choice but to try and hide.  Without hyperdrive, they had no hope of outrunning the Imperials, so he turned his attention to finding a safe place to land.  
In the midst of his search, blinding fire lit up the asteroid field.
Seven Mon Calamari cruisers burst from hyperspace on the edge of the asteroid field, turbolasers blazing at the Imperial fleet.  Caught between a rock and a hard place, The Star Destroyers had no choice but to withdraw, though in the midst of the fire-fight, they ensured the death of one Mon Calamari cruiser.  
Stunned by it all, dazed, Han turned to face Leia and Chewbacca.
"What in tarnation?"
Now they'd had two lucky escapes from the Empire.  Han didn't fancy trying his luck for a third time though.

In the midst of angry exchanges and raised voices, the Sheliak and the Gorn had both cut off diplomatic relations with the Federation and the Empire, and fortified their borders.  Rumours circulated that their fleets were lurking, waiting for the time to strike.
The Klingons were still posturing, Gowron still denying that there had ever been a plot to steal Imperial technology.  No one believed him.
Imperial Star Destroyers were now positioned alongside Federation vessels in several star systems.  It was hoped their mere presence would act as a deterrent.  
During the middle of the night, Captain Sisko had awoken with a realisation.
The Klingon ships captured during their battle with the Empire had all had the same information in their computers regarding the Klingons long-term plans.  Such a plan, requiring a lot of planning and communications with other governments, would inevitably have originated on the Klingon home world, and there would records there.  Klingons were not noted for their computer security, and even if records were deleted, an experienced hacker could retrieve them.  Having hastily gotten dressed, Sisko was now heading to the Enterprise, a plan formulating in his head.  He would have to negotiate for Data's services, but if there was a chance to head off a war…
As Sisko made his way up to Upper Pylon 2, a new thought started to form.  What if Picard, who seemed to be quite favourable of the Empire, refused to let Data go?  After all, such a mission would severely damage the credibility of the Empire.  They wouldn't look so squeaky clean, and suddenly everyone would be on their guard.  Picard might not like that happening to his new friends.
Come to think of it, it wouldn't be the first time that Picard had thrown his lot in with shady characters.
After all, had Picard not once been Locutus?
The twisted servant of the Borg who had murdered his wife?
The Speaker of the Collective, who had slaughter thousands of Starfleet officers, been responsible for the deaths of entire families?
Was Picard now handing the Federation over the Empire, who may yet prove to be dangerous?  Was Picard going to place Jake in danger again?
Sisko's journey to the Pylon took a slight detour, and then resumed.
Being a Starfleet captain, he was allowed onboard, and informed that Captain Picard was in his quarters, on Deck 2.
As Sisko patiently waited for his turbolift to deposit him on Deck 2, he felt a great sense of justice.  Picard had taken his wife, now Sisko would make sure that her death and the deaths of everyone else would be avenged.
He reached Picard's quarters.
He pressed the door chime.
"Come." Came the strong, commanding voice from behind the door.
In Sisko went.
Captain Picard was in uniform, though appeared to be winding down for the night.  He sat on the side of his bed, and looked up to see Captain Sisko.
Pointing a small Type-I phaser at him.
Picard barely had time to hurl himself behind a cabinet as a phaser blast scorched his bed sheets, setting them on fire.  A second blast forced Picard to dash for another, small cabinet, and a communications panel.
Unfortunately for Picard, Sisko spotted Picard's destination and blasted the panel to shreds.
Now Picard faced his attacker, and in Sisko's eyes he saw a rage that surpassed any he had ever seen.  The captain of Deep Space Nine raised his phaser again, firing emerald death at the captain of the Enterprise, though now Picard ducked and charged forward, crashing into Sisko and sending them both to the floor, the phaser coming loose and skittering across the floor to the door.
Picard tried to scramble over Sisko to get the phaser, but a swift punch to his jaw sent him backwards, and a kick to the stomach followed too quickly for him to block.  A left-hook came at his face, but Picard put his arm up in the way, and followed by driving his own left fist into Sisko's teeth.
Sisko stumbled, and Picard seized his advantage, catching him off guard with a right jab and a snappy kick to his right knee.  Sisko was stronger though, and motivated by revenge, and as Picard threw another right jab, Sisko grabbed his arm and slammed Picard over his shoulder and onto his back.  
Winded, Picard couldn't get out of the way as Sisko brought his fist down into his face.  And then again.  And again.
Blood spattered from Picard's nose and mouth, but he was not going to succumb just yet.  As smoke began to cloud the room from the burning bed sheets, Picard grabbed said bed sheets and threw them over Sisko.  The act put out the flames but also landed burning material on Sisko's face.  He howled, tearing the sheets away, only to take a kick to the stomach.  Sent tumbling, Sisko quickly righted himself, and the two captains charged each other, bones rattling as they clashed, not giving each other enough time to get in a punch or a kick.
Sisko decided to try something else.
His forehead smacked into Picard's face, and there was the sickening crack of bone.  Picard's nose began to bleed more profusely, and his vision swam.  
Sisko delivered a one-two combination of a right-hook and left-jab into Picard's face, who grunted in pain, falling to the floor, stunned.
Sisko smouldered with hate, and picked up the phaser, aiming it squarely at Picard's chest.
"For Jennifer." He whispered, and went to fire…