Prologue -to- Chapter 3 Disclaimer: Star Wars is the registered property of Lucasfilm, Star Trek is the registered property of Paramount. This is not for profit. Admiral Kalgan drummed his fingers on his keyboard console. Unhappily stationed aboard the Supremacy, he resented being kept on a figurative leash like, as he put it, "a kriffin' Vornskr." Kalgan had been living on this Arc- Hammer Class research/manufacturing vessel for months, forced to wait for reinforcements that had yet to arrive. Having given up on reviewing strategy, he sat watching the Lancer frigates float by his transparisteel viewport. With his naked eyes, he could even count the ships in close formation. Six Imperator Star Destroyers, half of them MK-II, sat menacingly in orbit around a large planetoid. Though they all enclosed a semi-circle around the planetoid's northern hemisphere, their bows were pointed directly towards the center. Accompanying them were groups of twelve Victory-Star Destroyers, Modular Taskforce Cruisers, Strike Cruisers, and Escort Carriers. Weaving in between them like little minnows were twenty Carrack fast-frigates. Kalgan also knew there were always twenty-eight additional Carracks patrolling the edges of the system, and on far patrol in deep space, as well as two interdictors attached to the fleet. But this was a pocket-sized armada in comparison to even a sector fleet and it would not protect them for long. And all because the first strike on the Federation had failed. He was beginning to feel isolated and vulnerable instead of brave and excited as anyone spearheading an attack on a new galaxy should. But he was just the admiral, and orders to unleash his forces and attack the federation would have to come from the top. For now, though, all he could do was maneuver his small fleet around the system like a collection of toy ships. It was time for the weekly shift rotation of the Carracks. Fourteen of them jumped from the outskirts of the enclave system into close orbit around the planetoid. Fourteen from the planetoid jumped to assigned patrol routes outside of the system. It was standard procedure, but it couldn't have come at a worse time. {Three of Seven, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 0-1 Online Detecting energy surges from 28 locations in sector 245.67 Performing standard scan ... Scan reveals no anomalies Performing complex scan ... ... Scan reveals no anomalies. Source of energy surges is therefore concealed in planetary system Ability to conceal installations from Borg scanning procedures indicates advanced technological evolution Cube 1171 proceeding to investigate planetary system} Moff Jerios sat quietly, contemplating his situation in the hollowed-out planetoid that served as the small fleet's base. As he had done almost religiously for nearly every day these past months, he reviewed his proposal to the Emperor. [ To The Exalted Emperor Palpatine, Sovereign Ruler of the Galaxy Benevolent to his citizens Ruthless to his enemies May The Galactic Empire Stand Forever -- Sent: Moff Jerios CMDR Project Outbound Alpha Proposal to the Emperor for the expansion of the Empire Short Summary: With the commencement of construction on the Death Star II, Imperial assets will soon be unassailable. It is therefore prudent for the Empire to expand its assets into other galaxies. The data collected from the Outbound Flight Project dates back to the Clone Wars, and is rather limited in scope due to the abrupt cancellation of the manned exploration mission. The robotic probes did, however, pick up evidence of a galaxy teeming with, among things, human life. While it is certain that our esteemed Emperor is aware of this, no action has been taken on this matter, most likely because of the distraction posed by the insignificant and soon-to-be-crushed rebellion. The requirements of this proposed expedition, however, amount to a mere fraction of a sector fleet, requiring only a reinforced planetary invasion force, while true fleet reinforcements will follow only when certain objectives are met. This guarantees not only secrecy, but also definite return for the Emperor's investment. A complete index of the plan follows...] Jerios did not bother to read the plan. He already knew the plan, having written it, and the Emperor had approved it, and that was all that mattered. But there had been no word from the Emperor for eight months. He began to wonder if the Emperor had somehow been defeated by the rebels - but instantly purged the unwholesome thought out of his mind. "Summon Admiral Kalgan", Jerios ordered to the silver protocol droid who hung motionlessly beside him. Its eyes lit up, and it left the Moff's study to fetch the Admiral. Though he could have just done it on hyper wave, Moff Jerios preferred direct contact with his subordinates. Kalgan stepped through the automatic door and stood before the Moff. "At ease," said Jerios, pretending to be reading a data pad. "Sorry I'm late", said Kalgan, "I was monitoring the hyperjumps of our Carracks" "Ah, yes. Your extreme commitment to the fleet has not gone unnoticed. I haven't spoken to you in nearly two weeks. How is everything?" "Well," replied Kalgan, "the most fun thing I've done recently was to demote Junior Lt. Wang Chung down to Ensign. He tried to pick up LT. HITMAN's girlfriend. The poor boy didn't know I was doing him a favour...if it had gone any farther, Ensign Chung would be a pool of blood on the floor, well, maybe with some teeth scattered around too, I guess." "Who the hell is Lt. Hit-Man?" thought Jerios, eyes darting back and forth, as he let silence fill the room before he continued. "Riiighhhttt", he said slowly, hoping to cover his ignorance of the existence of a Lt. Hit-Man, "I have more important matters to discuss with you. Let us be honest now: Our reinforcements are not coming." "Sir?" asked Kalgan, though he probably understood better than the Moff how grave the situation was. "For whatever reason," continued Jerios, "the Empire has lost contact with us. Even forgotten us, you might say. We are alone here." He left Kalgan a little time to pass it over in his mind. "So then invade the Federation! Strike now while our existence is secret," suggested Kalgan. "Calm down", chided the Moff. "Do you remember why our plan failed?" "Of course," answered Kalgan, "because of Picard. And the Enterprise." "Yes, " agreed the Jerios, "we were greedy trying to catch the Enterprise while we were in such a premature stage of the plan." Jerios became contemplative, trying to tell the story he had gone over so many times by himself. "Five years ago, before this fleet arrived, I sent hyperspace probes containing Devonian neural parasites to certain areas of the Federation. Some landed at Starfleet Headquarters, others were meant to be intercepted by those eternally curious Starfleet vessels. We almost succeeded in subverting their headquarters, when we decided we needed the Enterprise as well. Of course, those cunning rats saw through our conspiracy and barbequed Starfleet Headquarters until there were no subverted Admirals left. No doubt they have cleansed the rest of federation of these parasites as well. We did receive a homing beacon to our location, but there is little reason to believe our little parasites succeeded." "We need direct action, Moff!" interrupted Kalgan, standing up from his chair and pointing an accusing finger at the Moff, "The longer we wait, the more likely the Federation is to discover us. There is even evidence to suggest they have diverted their Argus Array to search for us. The already know where to look, thanks to your homing beacon." "So I've heard, " answered the Moff, annoyed. "In fact, every time you submit a report, I hear how important it is to attack the Federation now, for whatever reason, with our puny planetary fleet that desperately wants to be the new Imperial Navy." He paused for effect, then continued, "Five years ago, in the Federation year 2364, I sent the first probes. I borrowed some creatures from a Corporate Sector Authority planet under heavy quarantine. I sent them to this galaxy through a wormhole that had been discovered in my home sector during the Outbound Flight Project. Last year, I was authorized to flood the so-called 'Alpha Quadrant' with self-destructing probe droids. Eight months ago I was authorized to send part of a sector fleet through the wormhole. You, as Rear Admiral, headed that fleet. We set up an enclave far enough from the wormhole, so that in case we were discovered, our method of arriving here would remain secret. Eventually, we will enter the Federation, even though we might be wrecking their timeline for all we know." "Moff", imparted Kalgan, "we are wrecking their timeline just by being here. And I really don't care if we are. Our manufacturing facilities on this planet are barely sustaining us as it is, and if anything goes wrong, we'll be like dianogas without a sewer." "Yes. Wonderful analogy, Rear Admiral. But what do you propose to do with our limited fleet ability. While our technology is undoubtedly superior, I-" He was interrupted by a tinny voice from Kalgan's comlink, "Admiral, Borg ship sighted in vicinity! Requesting orders." "Kriff! They've found us," shouted the Moff, nearly jumping in the air. Kalgan ignored the Moff, whose pathetic display probably just merited a drop in morale if it was audible. Turning to his comlink, he ordered, "Man all batteries and activate defensive emplacements! Signal Captain Kynes to prepare the Supremacy for hyperspace. Have Commodore Poe bring the only the ISD-I's into formation with his ISD-II in the rear. {"We won't give them a taste of our best hardware, yet," thought Kalgan} Kalgan then turned to look at Jerios. "You realize we'll have to vapourize our installations?" Moff Jerios turned pale at the thought of destroying his home, but managed to gulp, "Yes, go ahead. Proceed." before turning resignedly to his desktop datapad. Kalgan turned to his comlink one last time, "Commander Nguyen? Yes? I want you to round up the Carracks and vape the installation! That clear? Good. Now prepare my shuttle!" {Three of Seven, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 0-1 Online 81 capital-scale vessels detected in sensor range Quantifying vessels ... Heavy armor readings Star-level energy readings emanating from vessels Level of technological evolution of new species 17456 may be superi- Five of Seven, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 0-1 Online Level of technological sophistication of new species 17456 may be comparable to that of Borg Summoning all Borg vessels in nearby vicinity ETA Borg vessels - 30 minutes ... Continuing quantification process Largest CLASS-I vessel approximating 6400 meters Six CLASS-II vessels measured at 1600 meters ...Interrupt - 3 CLASS-II vessels intercepting Cube 1171 All weaponry active on CLASS-II vessels Activating transmission node - We are the Borg.] "Prepare to be assimilated." rang over the speakers. Aboard the flag ISD- II Remorseless, Commodore Poe wasted no time. "All heavy turbolasers on my mark." A spray of blindingly bright, green turbolaser bolts lanced out from the white muzzle flashes of the Destroyers' heavy guns. A globe of energy encircling the Borg ship was temporarily flaring up, before fading into oblivion. "Shields down on Borg vessel," reported a tactical officer, without need, as the holographic display in the center of the bridge clearly displayed shield loss on the Borg cube. "All other turbolaser batteries - fire!" ordered Poe. "No Ion Cannons," he added, "don't give those chip-for-brains bastards anything else to adapt to!" The surface-hugging shields of the ISD Pillage lit up as a Borg shield- draining beam played over the hull. The attack was mostly irrelevant, as countless smaller turbolaser bolts were smashing into the hull of the Borg ship, tearing sizable gashes in hundreds of places. The space around the Borg cube took upon an eerie green glow as plasma gases began venting from the many hull breaches. "Second volley, fire!" charged Commodore Poe from the Remorseless. The second volley of heavy turbolasers left massive destruction in its wake. A full half of the cube had been blasted away. But according to tactical projections, the whole cube should have been destroyed. "They've adapted," came the call from the Pillage." "Doesn't matter," replied Poe with indifference, "our turbolasers should finish it off." As if to prove him right, the Borg cube began flaking into smaller chunks under the impact of so much energy. The third volley of heavy turbolasers finished off the larger chunks of the cube, and the rest was just target practice. "Target destroyed" rang through every computer screen in the fleet. A small footnote read that the Pillage had sustained 11 percent damage to its shields. Kynes watched in an almost trancelike state as his bridge erupted into cheers and chaos. Cries of "First victory to us!" and "We got the kriffin' cybermen!" sounded throughout. What an undisciplined crew. This fleet hadn't been in action for far too long. "Well, if I know Kalgan, that will soon be changed," thought Kynes... *** Two Son'a Destroyers coasted over the asteroid belt in the secluded system of a dim Red Giant star. It was a dead system, the expanding super-giant having long ago swallowed up its daughter planets. Had it been living, its only solace would lay in the fact that it was being used as a testing site for a groundbreaking new technology. The destroyers continued, their solid quasi-avian design casting shadows over a particularly large asteroid in their path. Scattered clusters of white buildings, tinged red from the dim sunlight, dotted the asteroid that served as a research station. Field trials of the new phase cloak device were underway. The Son'a leaders made it a point to keep up with Federation technology, as well as anyone else who might display a new military innovation. Fleet-Captain Ru'Utror took pride in the fact that his Battleship, the Childclaw would be used in the final trials of the device. If it worked - when it worked, if would give the Son'a a decisive advantage in any engagement. The order was given. For a brief moment, the Battleship flickered, and then disappeared into total darkness. There was no ripple effect, no veiling of light waves behind it, it simply ceased to exist on all sensors. The Childclaw was anchored in another dimension. Some Son'a stood on the asteroid, mouths gaping, and wondered if their Battleship had disappeared. But the experienced Son'a knew better, and watched calmly but proudly as a string of torpedoes went streaking from a non-existent launch-point and blasted ten asteroids into pieces. This dimensional technology, with only its roots in the Federation phase cloak device, would make an excellent weapon. Captain Ru'Utror stood on the bridge, watching the windows of the "reality-phase" the scientists had activated with the cloaking device. His ship was floating beside a huge spherical distortion. He could see it visibly; a black ovoid dotted with white stars of varying sizes, while the rest of the space around him cast an eerie, purplish-green glow. He had the nagging feeling that he would be much better off once he left this place. Something wasn't right here. The other elongated spheres were visible in the distance, each a gateway to elsewhere in the galaxy - dare he say universe? But Ru'Utror could not shake off the twitchy, frightened feelings he sensed in this expanse, and if he knew that someone- some thing had been watching him, he might have had a mental breakdown right there on the bridge. The five minutes had passed, an eternity to Ru'Utror, and he gladly watched as the ship shifted back into realspace. As the Childclaw re-appeared, some of the less somber observers clapped, waved, and cheered, excited about certain future victories for the Son'a. The scientists would call the test a success. Little did they know they had just brought attention to themselves. Similar to the attention that the disappeared settlers of Roanoke could have done better without, and the attention that the Anasazi Indians could have told you to avoid, it was attention that would help events already unfolding put the galaxy on a path which it could not back down from. *** Fresh from defeating a Borg cube, the Star Destroyer Relentless cruised over a large planetoid, all guns blazing. Formerly the Imperial HQ for the Milky Way, the frozen planetoid was now being raked over with heavy turbolaser fire to vapourize any trace of Imperial presence. Clouds of dust were kicked up as durasteel shattered and ice lakes melted, in a scaled-down human version of the vast cosmic interplay between fire and ice. This hulk of an asteroid would not be reused. Hasty preparations were being made to abandon the base as quickly as possible. Most of the transports moving base equipment had filed out, leaving a line of ships that would, at least for a brief span of time, rival a spacelane over Coruscant. Rear-Admiral Zeliar Kalgan of the 1st Imperial Recon Navy watched as a Modular Taskforce Cruiser gathered up equipment pods from the planetary surface. "Evacuation status, report!", ordered the Admiral, feeling more comfortable, but no less edgy, back onboard his Star Destroyer. Watching the Borg cubes close in on the long-range scanners made him anxious and impatient. "All transports and escorts preparing for jump." replied Commander Nguyen. "All destroyers and fleet ships ready for hyperspace. And." he hesitated briefly, "the Supremacy is not ready for launch, Sir." "What?" Kalgan could feel himself unprofessionally shaking. He quickly regained his composure, and ordered "Signal Moff Jerios. I want him onscreen." A few moments later, Moff Jerios flickered into view, thin face in a half-sneer, "Yes," he asked in an offhand tone of voice, "what is it? There is a fleet waiting for me." "Listen," said Kalgan, "you can't just take those ships and run away, leaving us with six destroyers to defend the Supremacy." Jerios seemed momentarily interested, "Why can't the Supremacy leave right now?" "{Surely you must know}", Kalgan nearly said, but thought better of it. "Moff, we were running experimental trials on its hyperspace motivator to make it more efficient - at your request." "Oh, " replied Moff Jerios. "Right, I had forgotten about that. Well, I'm not going to leave any more ships behind if I'm jumping into a new rendezvous point. Do we really need more than your destroyers and escorts to stop four Borg cubes? Perhaps your combat ability is not what we thought, Rear-Admiral." Absolute fury gripped the Admiral's face, and the Moff put a finger in the air to silence him. "You see, there's no asteroid fortress out there," he continued, indicating the expanse beyond, "but I do have an Interdictor to spare." Moff Jerios looked for signs of approval in Kalgan's visage. Seeing none, he continued, "You may thank me for my benevolence once we reach the rendezvous point," he spat, "Otherwise, you'll just have to make do. Jerios out." And with that, he faded from the viewscreen. "Did you see that? Holy Sith!", exclaimed Colonel Yates over the comm., "What a kriffin' coward! I bet he runs away from his mouse droids." "Oh, great", thought Kalgan, "Who else is listening in to my communications?" He swiveled his chair in the direction of his crew. "Well, you heard what the Moff said. It's only us and the Supremacy's perimeter ships standing in the way of the Borg." His crew stood at attention, looking as brave as he had hoped, and braver than he felt. "Kynes," he screamed into his comlink, "when's the Supremacy -" Kalgan paused, catching his impatience before switching to more carefully controlled tones, "What is the launch status of the Supremacy?" "Thirty-five minutes to go before we can enter hyperspace," replied Kynes. "That's not good enough," stated Kalgan, "we can hold out for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes against the Borg. Without receiving re-enforcements from the Moff, I'd pick the less optimistic figure. Get that hyperspace motivator working before then. "How?" asked a clearly annoyed and befuddled Kynes. He was under enough tension as it was. "I don't care how," retorted Kalgan, "Send down LT. HIT-MAN if you have to. If anything helps, do what you must," he concluded resignedly, heaving a deep breath, "Kalgan out." From his transport, Moff Jerios took one last look at the Supremacy. "Here's in case I never see you again," he gulped, emptying a good bottle of Corellian Brandy into his gullet." He was pressed back into his seat as the stars elongated into the familiar vortex of hyperspace. "Order the Raven-1 to join the flotilla, then plot an intercept course for the Borg vessels.", commanded Kalgan. The nimble Interdictor complied and joined formation without hesitation. Within a few minutes, they were in position to intercept the Borg "Borg vessels heading straight for the Supremacy", reported a sensor tech. "Activate the interdiction field," ordered Kalgan. The Immobilizer-418 powered up its gravity well projectors. Such unique weaponry allowed it to play a role much bigger than its size would reveal. Patiently working over the hull for months, imperial engineers had specially modified the interdictor's projectors for use against warp-driven ships. Now, as these same proud engineers sat aboard the picket, watching the anti- graviton flux generator readings with interest, the new systems would be put to their first real test. Four Borg cubes dropped from warp. Confused by being wrenched from their comfortable warp bubbles, they slowed down from inertial dampering but withheld firing. "What's keeping them," asked one captain. "Who knows, " replied Kalgan, just as a strange beam emanating from the rightmost cube harmlessly began interrogating the surface of the interdictor. The order, "Concentrate fire on the right cube.", came hastily from Kalgan Once again, a heavy turbolaser barrage lanced out at the Borg, but this time from twice as many ships. The holographic display showed the fourth cube's shield colour dimming from white to dark gray. Numbers cycling beside it indicated its shielding level at 13.5 percent, not as much damage as hoped for, but enough to work with. But the Borg had too learned that concentrating their fire was their best advantage, and focused their shield-draining beams on the source of their problems. Horrified, Admiral Kalgan watched as intense green globs of plasma began to tear through the skin of his only Interdictor picket. "Do something!" cried the Admiral. The medium turbolaser fire finally broke through the shields of the cube, allowing the point-defense cannons a few shots. As turbolaser fire grazed the hull, a few shuttle-sized pieces of armor plating were ripped off and sent spinning aimlessly beyond. Unfortunately, the scattered chunks of armor represented the total extent of the damage from the first volley of light turbolasers. "{It's going to be a very long fifteen minutes}," thought Kalgan. The Borg had punctured some rather large holes in the Raven. A barrage of highly accurate plasmoids caused one of the gravity well projectors to explode catastrophically, in an orgy of fire and shredded metal. "Raven is crippled, sir," stated a technician, though the cloud of chaff forming around its hull showed the most casual observer the extent of the damage. A second hail hit the Borg cube just as it had raised its shield. This time, a large portion of the superstructure was blasted off, but to no avail. The Raven sat dead in space, helpless to the transporter beams and cutting lasers playing over its surface. An unlucky technician on the Raven ducked to avoid debris from an exploding section of the hull. Just then, eight Borg materialized in the newly cleared area. [ Drone 5 of 8 online 1 lifeform present in scanner range Lifeform attacking with unidentified hybrid EM radiation/charged particle weapon Moving to assimilate Attacker missed Attacker missed Moving to assimilate 3 of 8 hit by unidentified weapon 3 of 8 offline Attempting to adapt to weapon ... Adaption failure: more data required Target moving beyond assimilation range Pursuing target ] "Sir!" cried the comm. officer on the Relentless, "Raven reports Borg intruders on three decks." "Have our next turbolaser volley target them," Kalgan ordered solemnly. But before it could draw any fire, the Raven lit its thrusters and went halfway to microjump velocity. Kalgan watched in a state of half-shock as it plunged into the already damaged Borg cube. Puncturing its shields, it drilled completely through the Borg ship before separating into its constituent atoms. A gaping hole separating the superstructure of the cube into five easy pieces, the cube was no more. Had the Borg any emotions, they would have been either impressed or horrified at the awesome spectacle and the sacrifice made in order for the Imperial technology not to be assimilated. Instead, they concentrated their fire on the lead Star Destroyer, where the majority of the communications were passing through. "Damn it!" screamed Kalgan. His attention had been jerked from the Raven 's debris, and the large, twisting pieces of the Borg cube to the Borg munitions impacting on his shields. He shouted to the navigation pit below him. "It's time to make a strategic redeployment. Have the flotilla regroup at the Supremacy. We might have a better chance of holding them there." The small fleet made a quick hyperjump, and ended up in system near the flagship. The Borg took a minute to collect themselves after the rapid turn of events. Already, they had lost one cube, with another broken apart. More damage than many species had been able to inflict on them in years had been dealt in a space of hours, and aside from their little retreat, the Imperials showed little sign of giving up themselves. Orienting themselves towards Admiral Kalgan's heading, they re-entered warp with the Supremacy as prime target. Back on the Supremacy, Kynes watched as Kalgan's flotilla came fleeing towards him, soon to be pursued by Borg cubes. A lone stormtrooper stood watching him. Looking little different from any other trooper who wore enlarged armor, except for the modified utility belt, and officer shoulder-pads, Lt. Hit-Man had a threatening air radiating from him which made even the most seasoned combat veterans on the bridge feel uneasy. "Alright," motioned Kynes, "go down to the engine room and see what's taking those techies so long." Lt. Hit-Man nodded, and left the bridge, much to the relief of some of the wimpy junior technicians. "There was too much destruction," said Kalgan as the flotilla moved into defense position around the Supremacy, "we lost one of our only Interdictors." Activating the fleet-wide comlink, he directed "Ignore the Moff's orders about non-weapons-adaptation. If there's a weapon you need to use to blow up a Borg, feel free to use it. But don't go crazy, either. We should flood the Borg weapons they haven't developed counter-measures to, and the only way to do that is by not using them until they've adapted to whatever you started with. This goes for security-personnel especially. Kalgan out." "Have the TIEs finished mining the Borg flight path?" asked Kalgan. "Aye, Sir" came Commander "Thelea" Mrith'hele'arana's voice. She had outfitted every TIE Bomber squadron with proximity mines for use against the Borg, contrary to Moff Jerios' orders against weapons-adaptation. Kalgan was pleased she had done so; it was no wonder she was commanding a squadron so respected as Prime Wing. "Move out," said Kalgan to the TIE Bombers, "we won 't be using fighters yet." Commander Thelea flew overhead and dipped her Missile Boat's wings to the bridge, the last note of friendless before the battle resumed. To their credit, the Borg cubes entered realspace almost exactly on time - right into the jaws of the fleet awaiting them. Vast explosions lit the cubes, as they plowed through the proximity mines with moderate damage to their shields. However instead of resuming their attack on the Relentless, they immediately began firing upon the Supremacy with the same weaponry that overcame the Raven's shields. The Lancer frigates were deadly against the plasmoids, intercepting the Borg weapons with pinpoint accuracy, quad laser bursts causing the contained plasma to prematurely detonate. But the shield draining beams were taking their toll on the Arc-Hammer class mobile platform, and it was only a matter of time before they broke through the shields... Lt. HIT-MAN tried desperately to 'motivate' the repair crew as the ship shook from impacts and deckplates shuddered all around him. "Get this thing working you Yuzzem-kneed shit-brains. If this hyperdrive isin't up in three minutes, you'll WISH you'd been assimilated BECAUSE YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO FEEL ANY PAIN!!! NOW MOVE!" The repair crew worked three times faster under Lt. HIT-MAN, but it wasn't fast enough. In the space of seconds, four gray-black figures materialized at the mouth of the engineering corridor. An arm sticking out of the duranium hull indicated a fifth one had fused inside during transport. LT-HIT-MAN smiled at the thought of the grossly mutilated Borg corpse, but quickly turned his attention to more important matters. [ Borg Drone 4 of 7 online Hull material 37% denser than anticipated 3 Borg failed to rematerialize on transport Scanning area . 15 lifeforms repairing propulsion mechanisms 2 Lifeforms presently armed Threat probability: 25.3% Assimi- Drones under attack - defensive mode activated ] Lt. Hit-Man's first shot hit the Borg drone directly in the cybernetic eye, causing the Borg's head to jerk backwards amidst a shower of sparks. Rolling sideways, Lt. Hit-Man fired three more shots before ducking into an access tunnel. The second Borg was hit squarely in the neck, puncturing the cords running up his spine. While the third Borg had collapsed from a hole placed neatly in its chest, the fourth Borg received a cutting blaster wound below the knees, severing its lower legs. Bright white light reflected off the Supremacy's hull as Borg cutting lasers struggled to pierce the thick armor. "Supremacy reports complete shield loss over the engineering section," reported the comm. officer aboard the Relentless. "We need to buy them more time," responded Kalgan. "Fire all ion cannons at cube-three" Red-orange elongated globules of energy plummeted towards the cube, impacting with utter havoc against the Borg shields. Blue streaks of energy flickered over the hull, frying Borg systems where they went. LT. Hit-Man emerged from his temporary shelter and walked up to the fourth Borg he had shot, whose spasmodic gyrations were causing the other Borg corpses to be knocked around. Clutching Four of Seven's head, he tore it loose, along with a nasty looking spinal cord. "My first trophy from the Borg", called out LT. Hit-Man as he held up the head for all to see. A few technicians grinned back. Suddenly, eight more Borg drones materialized around him. Instinctively, LT. Hit-Man used the Borg's skull as a morning star, bringing it down with all the force he could at the nearest drone. It caved in the reinforced skull of the new arrival, and LT. Hit-Man pushed the corpse aside to dive for cover from the converging nanoprobe arms of the Borg drones. "All right!", bellowed LT. Hit-Man, crawling protectively towards the technicians, "Let 'er rip!" A surprisingly high number of wall panels opened up to reveal teams of stormtroopers at shielded E-Web blasters. Opening fire on the Borg drones, who had already mostly adapted to blaster weapons, they still managed to take down four drones, who were slammed into the wall by the relatively high-energy yields of the antipersonnel blasters. The rest just stood there, slowly getting pushed backwards by the powerful bolts. The Star Destroyers were taking advantage of Cube's three's disabled status. With the help of the two Victory Star Destroyers who were protecting the Supremacy, the flotilla had pounded the cube into a near irreparable status. Reacting to this, the Borg abruptly stopped their attack on the Supremacy. Turning their focus as before onto the Relentless, the Borg began to give an onslaught that even an ISD-II couldn't stand up to. Sensing the sudden interruption in Borg activity, LT. Hit-Man pulled two blue tabs from his utility belt. The stormtrooper corporal standing beside him looked quizzically, as the blue tabs were held 3 centimeters apart by a seemingly invisible force. The trooper choked down his fear, and asked. "Are those explosives, LT. Hit-Man, 'cause if they are, we shouldn't use them in a room full of sensitive-" "SHUT-UP, " said Lieutenant Hit-Man as the other figure cringed, "Haven't you ever seen a lasso, corporal?" The corporal could only shake his head in ignorance and confusion. "Watch," said LT. Hit-Man, as he threw one end down the corridor, where the Borg were under siege from the E-Webs. A Borg whose skin had begun to char and peel under the barrage stooped over to pick it up. [Drone 2 of 8 under constant 'blaster' fire Adaptation to Imperial weapons 89% successful to date Threat identified as LT. HIT-MAN Threat index: 256% Assimilate at all costs . Detecting sub-molecular anomaly Anomaly is attached to metallic tab of unknown purpose Retrieving tactile data from anomaly] The Borg's clumsy reflexes caused his fingers, then his arm to get torn off, without cauterization, as LT. Hit-Man tugged on the other end like a skilled fisherman. Next, the drone's torso was snipped in two. The blue tab rose in the air, seemingly under its own volition, but Sergeant Petiers behind the E-Web battery knew better; LT. Hit-Man was using the Force! LT. Hit-Man used his limited force ability to twirl the blue chip in the air, and all around a puzzled Borg drone. The blue chip was pulled, almost as if on a leash of some sort, and the drone was diced like a squishy gray banana. He then pulled the blue chip back to him, so he was holding them both, but still waved them in the air. "Microfilament wire!" exclaimed the corporal as understanding dawned upon him, "Well, you're not the brightest Wampa in the pack," chided LT. Hit-Man, "but you're right. I love this stuff." The microfilament wire was so small, it actually moved in between molecules, cutting their bonds. LT. Hit-Man twirled the invisible string in the air and, casting it forward with his arm, he took off the heads of the remaining two Borg drones. It was a sick ballet, but horribly effective. Four mutilated Borg corpses lay on the floor. No amount of adaptation would save them now. LT. Hit-Man looked out the long viewport at the end of the corridor, just in time to see the battered chunk that was labeled Cube-3 explode into a thousand tiny shards. "Hah" laughed Sergeant Petiers, his attention focused on the corpses littering the floor, "that microfilament wire sure comes handy in an emergency, doesn't it.?" "Emergency!" growled LT Hit-Man, "I use it to floss my teeth!" The comic interlude was interrupted by the arrival of nine Borg drones, forming a wall between LT. Hit-Man and his corridor blaster support. Things weren't so bright on the Relentless, either. Hull damage indicators flared up all over the Relentless' combat schematic. "Escape pods, captain?" suggested an officer. He was ignored. "Shall we board the escape pods," he asked again, feeling more cowardly this time. The bridge shook again from impact "Not unless you want to be assimilated," came the angry reply, "but we'll board the shuttles if it makes you feel better." To make the officer feel even worse, Kalgan announced "I'm staying on the bridge." Suddenly, Commander Thelea's Missile Boats came swooping down from hyperspace, and five squadrons of assault gunboats joined her. "I couldn't wait any longer," she explained, as wave after wave of heavy munitions were launched into the Borg shields. Completely unprepared for the attack, Cube-2 suffered temporary shield loss. Beams shot out from the cube, stinging the fighters, and Thelea swerved her Missile Boat towards the Relentless. The attacks on the flag destroyer were relentless in themselves, and the Borg weaponry had started punching through the armor plating protecting the Solar Ionization Reactor. It was only a matter of time now. Commander Thelea watched as officer shuttles began dropping out of the launch bay and fleeing the Relentless in a crowded rush. Then, there was a BIG boom, an explosion so big, Thelea could actually hear it as the shockwaves vibrated her craft. Looking at the sensor-blinding white spray with an orange halo emanating from the Relentless, Thelea could tell the Relentless' reactor had been destroyed. Normally, safety fields and bulkhead closures would contain the explosion to a degree, but with the outside influence of two Borg cubes, the Relentless didn't have a chance. Thelea could only hope that the Admiral had escaped, and that the Borg would fail to notice him in the confusion. Rear-Admiral Kalgan tumbled through space in his escape pod. The only occupant, he had been the only officer to stay on the bridge. "{The only worthy officer, too}," thought Kalgan, as Commodore Poe had transferred to the Reaper to lead the three ISD I's. He was almost jerked out of his safety harness when the pod shook violently. ", " he thought, "" "Hope you don't mind going for a little ride, Admiral," said a familiar voice with a touch of joviality. It was Thelea! Commander Thelea thought how good this would look on her record as she towed the admiral towards the relative safety of the Victory Star Destroyers, which were attacking from a farther range. "She's a good pilot." thought Kalgan, "I hear she's even outflown Marrek Steele. . . probably why she was sent to another galaxy, " he added as an afterthought. "Well, it looks like Poe's in command, " said Kynes, hoping someone would try to contradict him. Hoping that someone would tell him that the lead destroyer was still there. Kynes did not like the fact that there was one less ISD-II protecting his ship from the most powerful beings in this galaxy. "Let's hope that hyperdrive is up soon," he concluded. "VENT THE COOLANT" screamed LT. Hit-Man to Kynes over the comlink as he dodged Borg drones who were jabbing their nanoprobe syringes at him. Imperial capital ships often flooded key equipment compartments with a Nitrogen-CO2 mixture before going into battle, but this wasn't the case here due to the technicians at work. Receiving a negative response from Kynes as there were unarmoured technicians in the room, LT. Hit-Man said in a softer, but more menacing voice, "Vent the coolant." Some techie must have pissed his pants and complied, because a loud hissing sound heralded the arrival of frozen gases. The Borg tried to adapt, four of them getting atmospheric shields up in time to stop the cold gas. The others, including the technicians at work on the hyperdrive, froze horribly, their visages contorted in screams of pain. LT. Hit-Man suddenly longed for some snowtrooper armor. He also regretted the deaths of the technicians, but "they should have been a lot kriffin' faster doing the job." A Borg saw-hand came flashing down at him, half-visible in the murky whiteness of the room, and knocked the blaster from his hand. LT. Hit-Man didn't bother going down on the floor to look for it, instead reaching for his lightsabre. He found it frozen to his utility belt, and struggled to pull it off. Just as he succeeded, a Borg nanoprobe syringe dug into the back of his helmet, detonating his entire 20 minute supply of compressed oxygen, and sending his head crashing into an armored wall. "Kriff Kriff Kriff!" seethed LT. Hit-Man. Suddenly, his eyes saw an object begging to be put into good hands. A Jeron Fusion Cutter lay on the floor beside a dead technician who was sealing the cowling on the hyperspace motivator. The Borg were looking for LT. Hit-Man. [ 1 of 9 online Searching for LT. HIT-MAN . LT. HIT-MAN located Threat assessment: 999% Entity more dangerous than any previously encountered species Nanoprobe injectors ready Assimilate - Assimilate - Assim-] A bright green glob of energy raced out at One of Nine, tearing through his chest like jelly. Three more shots followed, and three more Borg drones collapsed. "Now to fix the hyperdrive," thought the Lieutenant, ignoring the Borg corpses, which were looking as if they had been chewed in half by some nasty creature. He moved over to the hyperspace motivator, which by now had almost been completely repaired. All that needed to be done now was patch up the reactor casing. "Insert tab A into slot Z after tabs B though Y or was that Tab Z into slot A after Tabs G though M? Oh kriff it, I'll just duct tape the damn thing", thought LT. Hit-Man. On the other end of the system, a Borg cube was reassembling itself. Having patiently waited until it could get a tractor beam online on one of the largest pieces, it had pulled the other pieces together. Though an Imperial Interdictor had wrecked the core by traveling through at high sublight velocity, it had successfully fused into a functional, albeit smaller, cube. Calculating a time vs. speed equation, it entered warp to arrive at the battle at the fullest strength possible. LT. Hit-Man hit the final switch and the hyperspace motivator roared to life. "Captain, the hyperspace motivator is online!" snapped Commander Nguyen aboard the bridge. "Excellent," said Kynes, "bring us into the rendezvous point, and quickly. A Borg cube just reassembled itself out of broken pieces." "Damn-it, " complained Commander Nguyen, "now I remember why I hated Lego as a kid." The Reaper's sensor display indicated a bogey on a slow warp approach to the melee. "Borg cube, incoming," said the sensor officer. All of a sudden, a message appeared through the fleet comm. computers indicating the Supremacy's hyperdrive was now fully operational." "Well then let's get the hell out of here!" exclaimed Commodore Poe. The Supremacy slowly aligned itself for the hyperspace jump as five destroyers swiftly moved by in front and disappeared into hyperspace. The double groups of VSDs and Lancers continued to fend off the Borg attacks, no longer interested in hurting the Borg cubes, but rather concentrating on nailing the projectile weapons heading for the flagship. Supremacy's triple sublight thruster nozzles lit up in a burst of white energy, and she was off. The remaining escorts followed, leaving only a pair of proximity-fused B- 101 50,000 megaton bombs on the planetoid for any curious passerby to find. They left their temporary home, never to return again. *** Nothing stirred on the Son'a homeworld. Not one space elevator, not one monorail, not one defense grid. A quick look from any spaceship would reveal the awesome drama taking place. Something very, very strange was happening around the hapless Son'a planet. It seemed as if the sheer space around it were being twisted. A huge, semi-transparent magenta gap formed away from the sun-side, puckering and undulating like a thick, flat gel. The dark gap expanded and elongated, looking like a giant, hungry mouth. Something even worse was extruded; The Son'a would have been horrified at the spectacle, had they been what three-dimensional creatures naively call 'existent'. *** The Constellation-class picket Terabithia edged its way along its patrol route. With a comparatively large warp nacelle arrangement, this aging class was once used for deep-space exploration missions. Now, with most of its brethren decommissioned and sold for scrap, this frigate found itself patrolling the quiet UFP/Son'a border. Aboard the bridge, Captain Paul Jacques sat slouching in his plushy chair. As he watched the Pipes screen saver on the huge bridge viewscreen, officers shook their heads, or rolled their eyes in disgust. Some crewmembers had previously complained at this questionable use of the bridge display, but after they found themselves assigned to eleven-year tours of duty on Subspace Relay Stations, the complaints abruptly stopped. Captain Jacques had some pretty powerful friends; somehow this ship had been pulled from a live-fire test and reactivated under Captain Jacques. "Notice how the random cycling colours and the shadow effects are used to supplement the overall effect?" asked Paul Jacques, "I think it would be possible to measure these three-dimensional objects on this two-dimensional screen." The crew simply sighed. Suddenly, the science panel lit up in a wild display of images, radiation spectrometers, and ten-dimensional figure projections. "Sir!", cried Science Officer Stevens, "I'm detecting residue of massive spatial disturbances in all Son'a occupied systems." Her fingers danced over the controls. "Sensor sweeps indicate no presence of warp vessels in the area, no background Son'a communications noises. . .nothing." "We have to check this out," said Captain Jacques in a resolute voice, standing up and pointing his fist towards the ceiling. He could imagine himself as one of those 24th century heroes from the old 20th century 2D vids he treasured so near and dear. Light shining behind him, he would liberate helpless damsels while saving the galaxy as well. "Sir, entering Son'a space is a violation of their interstellar sovereignty," warned the science officer, bringing him back to reality. "Objection noted, Lieutenant, but I'm sure that whatever's gone wrong, they'll be glad to receive Federation assistance from this great ship. Helmsman, proceed to the nearest Son'a planet." It was their outermost colony planet. Just settled by the Son'a, it no longer bore any signs of live humanoid beings. "Not a single one?," asked Jacques in disbelief. "No, sir," replied Lt. Stevens, "Additionally, there are signs of extensive ground combat in all populated areas, no bodies, however," she added. "Well, this is just getting scarier by the minute. Alert Starfleet Headquarters and send down a team to investigate." Aye sir," said the security officer, then asked, "Will you be beaming down also?" "Hell no," replied Captain Jacques, "What do I look like, Captain Kirk?" *** The dark, jagged form of the Supremacy raced by the hundreds of blue streaks signifying hyperspace travel. Along with her accompanying escorts, she was moving towards the hidden rendezvous point at over a hundred light years per hour. The flotilla had put considerable distance between themselves and any Borg who might pursue, but they had been forgotten as a new problem was being mulled over hyperwave by some disgruntled members of the crew. "It's that damned Moff," said Poe, "he has no idea how to run a fleet." "If it wasn't for that kriffin' bastard," grumbled LT. Hit-Man, "we wouldn't have gotten so wasted at the enclave." Kynes waited, sensing what was on everyone's minds. "You know it's quite illegal to kill a Moff. Perhaps we should just threaten him and his authority to get what we want." "Which is what?" asked Nguyen. "The invasion of the Federation," replied Kalgan's voice from out of nowhere. "It can be done and it will be done." *** The surface of the Son'a world was a panoramic scene of utter devastation. Buildings were crumbling all around, some with large holes punched in them, and smoke was still rising from some manufacturing plants. The desolated ruins unexpectedly came alive as four points of light shimmered and resolved themselves into humanoid figures. The Terabithia's away team had transported safely to the surface. Ensign Roberts, the ship's xenobiologist and expert on alien cultures, looked around at the crumbling city, and those beyond in the vast plains of this flattened world. The young and vibrant Yeoman Samuel was running excitedly to one of the dead buildings. "Lieutenant, I found the computer records building. If I had a generator, and if these records are intact, I can hook it up to the Son'a mainframe and find out what happened here." "Good idea" agreed Lt. Ryan. "I'll have Terabithia beam down a generator." Forty minutes later, the delay because Captain Jacques had to look up Starfleet Protocol on beaming down generators in class-6-2a situations, the generator was up and running and they were able to access the central control records. After a minute of perusing the documents, Yeoman Samuel looked stumped. "All these records show are inquires about ghosts and poltergeists, there's nothing of value to us here. Ensign Roberts had a puzzled expression on her face. "You're telling me that in their last moments, as their world was falling apart around them, they were looking for spooks and goblins?" "Apparently so", replied Samuel. Looking at the extensive building damage around them, Lt. Ryan suddenly perked up and asked "Perhaps they all went insane and attacked each other?" "Your explanation's as good as any, Lieutenant. Hopefully, we won't have to find out the same way they did." Captain Jacques was alerted to a new danger as the proximity alarm sounded. A ship had appeared out of nowhere right beside the Terabithia's orbit. "Where the hell did that come from?" asked his first officer, almost having a heart attack. Jacques reached for his armrest console and pressed the http://www.star-control.com/fan/images/mango_11.shtml button to activate the viewscreen. Captain Jacques gasped. An oddly beautiful ship looking like a manta ray lay before his eyes. A huge projectile cannon of some sort rested on top of the form, completing its aggressive look. It was at least 180 meters long by the look of it, and was clearly built for combat. "Red Alert" cried the captain, as duty officers scrambled to reach their battle stations. "Batten down the main hatches!" he continued, "Set the oven to 450 degrees!" The communications officer remained calm. "Sir, it's hailing us," he stated. "On screen," commanded Jacques. He was greeted by a large, puffy, green, fish-like creature with an odd-looking beak. It was staring at him from suspension in some kind of liquid, its beak clearly opening in an effort to speak. "Captain, " said the comm. officer, "the universal translator reports having extreme difficulty in translation of the alien language. The use of syntax of this type has never before been encountered in this galaxy." Jacques was amazed. "Do your best, Mr. Chamberly." Complying, he punched in the override command on his console, and a distorted, underwater sounding voice began speaking in English, or something that could be called English, anyway. "Greetings, are you *campers*? " asked the alien. Terabithia's bridge crew looked confused at the universal translator's choice of words. "Seems friendly enough," thought Jacques. "I am Captain Paul Jacques of the Starship Terabithia. I come in peace from the United Federation of Planets. What can you tell us about your species?" "{Standard First Contact speech,}" thought Jacques. "We are Orz! " responded the creature, "Orz are happy *people energy* from the outside. Inside is good. So much good that Orz will always *germinate*. Can you come together with Orz for *parties*? "{What the hell is he talking about?}" wondered Jacques. The alien's voice did not change while he spoke, remaining deep, hoarse, and monotone. Though it may have been due to the universal translator's difficulties, the entire exchange sounded eerie. "You are trespassing in Son'a space. State your business here," he asked, with a little trepidation. "Here is *bright* and *smooth*," the Orz explained, "The other place is *hurt* Orz too much tired for keeping together. Other place is **Frumple**. Orz are here now, but almost not yet. Soon Orz are really here! You are help Orz with *parties*. Orz looking for you, and find you. So much joy!! Now *smooth* place all the time, and after now never going back to outside. Never!!" "Are you getting any of this?" asked Jacques, turning to his bridge crew. All they did was shake their heads. "I'm sorry, sir" said communications officer Jamieson, "I've checked the computer and these types of speech - hell - these types of thinking patterns have never before been encountered on any lifeform in, or outside this galaxy. The only logical explanation I can could come up with is that these creatures are from another... dimension." Stunned, Jacques turned back to the Orz. "What happened to the Son'a?" he demanded, turning the exchange into darker tone. "Son'a are not here. Orz are here," stated the intruder, "You are not the same too much like Son'a. You are *happy campers*. Do you want to see our surprising toys*? No!! Do Not!! Son'a are so silly. We do not *tell stories* a lot about them. No more Son'a stories." Paul Jacques let the alien's dialogue sink in for a minute. He winced at the childlike description of the disappearance of the Son'a. "What happened?? Dammit, what did you do to the Son'a!!" The Orz tightened its body, and released a viscous orange-red liquid. The area around the Orz was quickly saturated with the substance, causing splattered red- orange light to emanate from the viewscreen. "Nnnnnngaaaa!!!!" screamed the creature in a higher pitch, "I am *squeezing* the *juice*. You have become too close. You are *sick* for the last time! Nnnnnnggggaaaaaa!! It is not enough for *happy days* I am sure. More and more *juice!* Son'a are not the story!!" "Captain," said Lt. Oiseau, "maybe you shouldn't talk about the Son'a. It seems to...er... antagonize the alien. Why not change the subject, or we leave and send a diplomatic ship? "Don't be a fool, Lieutenant! The galaxy has a right to know what happened here!" shouted Paul Jacques passionately, "Record everything that has happened and send it to Starfleet Command - priority one." "Now, " said Paul Jacques, "I am going to ask you one-last-time. What happened to the Son'a?" "Nnnnnggggaaaahhhhh!!!!!! It is *dancing*!!!!" screeched the alien before disappearing from the screen. "Captain," exclaimed Lt. Oiseau, "the Orz ship is maneuvering - and tracking us with its cannon!" The Orz ship accelerated from the planet at a speed no impulse vessel could ever hope to attain under such conditions. Its cannon rotated, centering on the Terabithia. A single shell fired from it cannon, impacting directly on the Terabithia's shields, visibly rocking the larger vessel. The Orz ship paused, gauging the effectiveness of the assault. Then, it let loose a barrage of four more such shells, three of them impacting. It was blind luck, but the shell aimed at the miniaturized stardrive section barely missed the warp core. Perhaps God smiles upon fools and Trekkies. "I have phaser lock!" cried Lt. Oiseau just before the Orz disappeared over the sun-lit horizon of the planet. "Damnit!" said Paul Jacques, smoke rising from a console beside him. He addressed the science officer, "What can you tell me about that weapon?" "It appears to be some kind of howitzer, sir," replied Science Officer Stephens, "It uses an inordinate amount of energy to propel a shell. The shell uses little or no mass-lightening, thereby increasing the amount of kinetic energy released upon impact. The warhead is a shaped charge most likely designed to penetrate hull armor. It had a yield of several tens of thousands of terawatts. We were lucky; if the shell had been designed to be more effective against shields, we may not be here right now." Paul Jacques digested the information, and asked Lt. Oiseau exactly how much damage had been done to the shields. "We lost 63% of the shields the first time, but I was able to calibrate our shields to these shells, and the respective explosions did only 32% damage shields, before penetrating our screens and blowing away chunks of our hull. "{I nearly lost the warp core and the bridge as well as all of our shields in one attack from that little ship.}", thought Jacques, "{That's almost more than I lost in the Borg simulation when I overestimated the power of our phasers}" "What else can you tell me about it, Lieutenant?" he asked. "All I can tell you, sir, is that it appears to be designed for intense combat in and around strong gravity wells." "{Great, just our luck}," thought Captain Jacques. "All right," he said, "take us out of here. Maximum warp." Overhead, the Orz ship had rounded the planet and come up in firing position over the North Pole. The Terabithia's engines lit up, and the large vessel flashed into warp, leaving a trail of hull debris just before the Orz ship began to fire. *** Moff Jerios paced up and down the cabin of the VSD Hunter. He resented hiding out in the middle of nowhere in this empty, remote sector of space. It put him on the same level as those pitiful Rebels when they had to flee their lost battlefield of Hoth. He was just about to get a drink of Tatooine Tequila when the proximity alarms started to blare. He looked out the window just in time to see five Star Destroyers, the Supremacy, and a few escorts drop out of hyperspace. Even to the Moff's untrained eye, the Star Destroyer that was missing was none other than the flag destroyer Relentless. But the other Mark II's were intact, and Moff Jerios was ecstatic. "{I may have finally gotten rid of the Kalgan. What a thorn in my side, but gone for good.}" A communications officer paged Jerios, "The Relentless and an Immobilizer-418 failed to return, Moff." "{No, not one of my precious Interdictors}", thought the Moff. "They were destroyed in battle with the Borg vessels, my Lord," continued the officer. "Yes, perform a memorial service for them," said Jerios unsympathetically, "And what is the status of Rear-Admiral Kalgan?" he asked. "The Rear-Admiral will be arriving on his shuttle to make a personal report." "{Damn! He's still alive. Of all the things in the galaxy!" thought Jerios. "Very well," he concluded, "Jerios out." "Evidently, the crews were surprised that the Supremacy had survived the attention of four Borg vessels." said Kalgan to Jerios as they paced down the halls of the shuttle en-route to the Supremacy. "Yes, " acknowledged the Moff, "but how _are_ your crews doing? I know they had a run in with the Borg." Oh, well, " responded Kalgan, "LT. Hit-Man did a bang-up job taking care of the Borg on the Supremacy. He was credited with eighteen personal kills from that encounter. "Well," said Jerios raising his eyebrows, "I'm impressed." "No, you don't understand, explained Kalgan, "That was just play for LT. Hit- Man. Those Borg have the combined tactical sense of a retarded primate." "But I think it would still be difficult to kill that many Borg, I mean take the skill invol-" Kalgan took him aside. "Look, Jerios, there's a rumour going around that LT. Hit-Man is not your ordinary shock troop. In fact, his life and abilities were supposed to be endorsed by the Emperor or Lord Vader, I believe." "But then why is he a mere Lieutenant?" asked Jerios in fascination. "Ranks and titles are for those who don't understand where true power comes from, Moff" stated Kalgan, emphasizing the word Moff in a pointed gesture. "Now listen here," he continued, "there are others in the fleet who feel the same way as LT. Hit-Man, and I can't keep them on a leash forever. If they don't get the action they feel they deserve, the may start putting their own officers in." Moff Jerios took a look around the shuttle, seeing the pilots' unhappy looks. Sensing the tide of mutiny building up against him, he decided to vent his men's anger in a different direction. "Very well, Rear-Admiral, I hereby authorize you to begin attacks on the Federation. Submit a detailed version of your plans and we will discuss the matter at 0800 hours tomorrow." Kalgan agreed, and switched the conversation to matters of lesser importance. He had just won a major victory and could rest, for now. *** "We have a significant First Contact situation, here Captain." Picard found himself staring up at the face of Starfleet Admiral Haden, who was part of Starfleet's command structure on the Cardassian border. "This is a top priority job, " continued Admiral Haden, "and I'll only feel safe if the Enterprise is there." "{What the hell does the Cardassian bureau want with a first contact situation?}" wondered Picard. He smiled, hiding his unease. "I'll do my best, Jerry," he said confidently, "What can you show us?" A fleet of 180 meter long manta ray shaped vessels with huge guns sat on the viewscreen. Picard frowned. "Look, Picard," pleaded Haden, "this a very sensitive and tricky spot we're in here." As Admiral Haden explained the disappearance of the Son'a to Picard, the faces of everyone on the bridge face grew shocked. They grew further appalled when Haden explained the conduct of Captain Jacques on the Terabithia. "Well, a similar situation happened with the Ferengi..." stated Data. Picard shuddered at the memory of the disastrous first contact with the Ferengi. "Yes, Data, but the Ferengi did not destroy an entire species." He turned to the viewscreen and said, "I understand it is necessary for a ceasefire, Admiral, but I absolutely refuse further diplomatic negotiations with these. . . things." "I respect your views, Captain," pretended Haden, "but with the Cardassian situation and all, the Federation council will feel a lot safer not knowing there's a new enemy on our borders with as-yet-unknown destructive potential. The Orz, as they all themselves, seem to have been interested in some kind of alliance. If we could - now wait, don't stop me Captain. At least try to find out what they want." "All right," said Picard resignedly, "send me the co-ordinates and Enterprise will be on her way. "{And hopefully, she'll come back.}," thought Picard. *** The last four Missile Boats dropped out of the launch bay of the Reaper. Commander Thelea received her orders. Even though she was squadron leader of the only TIE Missile Boat unit attached to the flotilla, she was not unused to being kept in the dark. But the rankers had told her its best for her to know the entire plan, as the risk of capture was rather small in her Missile Boat. No sense in being overconfident, she figured. Consequently, she assigned a TIE Defender squadron to cover her own as she would be flying in on of the more heavily guarded areas of the mission. Activating her comlink, she addressed her squadron. "Today the attack on the Federation begins. We, along with every other hyperspace capable fighter squadron in the fleet, are to destroy the Subspace Relay Network. This can be done by assigning every squadron to one or more stations, depending on the type of craft available, and the type of station. The attacks must be simultaneous, in other words, the whole network must seem to go down almost all at once. As you may already know, our hyperdrive speed is faster than their communications. Therefore, we don't have to knock out all the subspace stations, just every other one, and that will leave the remaining ones isolated and not receiving boosted signals. There will be nearly three-dozen squadrons of hyperspace capable fighters attacking. One TIE Defender squadron will be on call if we need assistance. More importantly, LT. Hit-Man's Cleaners will be standing by in case you get tangled with a Federation ship. The odds of us succeeding are high as long as we eliminate the selected area of the relay network before the Federation finds out what is happening. Thelea out." *** "So while the Federation downs the subspace relay, we attack the Cardassians, right?" asked Moff Jerios. "No, damnit" exclaimed a furious Kalgan, "While we down the Federation subspace network on the Cardassian/Federation border, we also attack Cardassian ships inside their borders." "Why don't we just attack both sides with our ships and destroy their starfleets," asked the baffled Moff Jerios. "Because we don't have enough ships to raid both sides _and_ invade Cardassian space. Our fighters should be sufficient for the job of taking down an unprotected relay network. You understood this the first time, right?" asked Rear-Admiral Kalgan. "Of course." replied the Moff, "I was just making sure I had the right information." Kalgan wanted to reach out and strangle the Moff with his bare hands. "{If we don't fix this leadership problem soon}", thought Kalgan regarding the Moff, "{there'd be a mutiny. But I'd kill him first.}"... Chapter Four (a) Subspace Relay Station 302 coasted silently through space. Ensign Jones was sitting in his bunk reading a copy of "The resurrected Martha Stewart's guide to 24th century cooking" when a low-pitched, blaring klaxon began sounding at an interval of less than a second. He stood bolt upright in alarm, watching red warning symbols begin flashing on his screen. Subspace Relay Stations 301 and 303 were down. It could mean only one thing: attack. As he ran towards the emergency console over to activate the distress call, the external sensors picked up an energy surge outside. Jones was caught between pushing the distress call and recalibrating the shields in the direction of the five star-winged ships that had just appeared within seventy-five meters of the station. Fortunately, the decision was made for him, as green bolts lancing out from the fighters nearly overloaded the light shielding on the station. The job was completed with two proton bombs, which moved slowly towards the station but were unchallenged by the non-existent defenses. The impact shattered the station's shield generators, and blew the relay station in half while consuming the rest of it with a proton chain reaction. A message buoy was sent flying away from the debris, and it was intercepted by laser fire. The five gunboats aligned themselves towards the hyperspace exit point and flashed away towards their next target. The entire process had taken place over a span just under sixteen seconds. *** Commander Mrith'hele'arana's squadron was enjoying similar success compared to the gunboats, but their warhead loads were half depleted and they were the deepest squadron to penetrate into enemy territory. She and her wingmen were just finishing off Subspace Relay station 1237 when her proximity sensor went wild She checked her scanner - "What the hell." An incredibly foolish Miranda-class ship had decided to investigate the garbled communications coming from this area in space, and consequently would have to take her squadron of Missile Boats head-on. "Jam their transmissions," came her first order. The Missile Boats were normally equipped with a miniature tractor beam for fighter combat, but tugging on light starships while pummeling them with concussion missiles would be unnecessary on this mission. Instead, the tractor beam emplacement had been replaced with a multi-frequency sensor and communications jamming pod. The four Defenders activated their jamming equipment. "They're jamming our transmissions," cried Cmdr. Hyde aboard the U.S.S. Saturn. The small, powerful fighters were unlike anything the Federation had seen before. "We don't know what we're dealing with here, Captain," complained the helmsman, "maybe we should retreat." "Lieutenant, you are talking out of your arse." Captain Gingerbeard scolded, "Concentrate fire on the lead vessel." Racing towards the Miranda now identified as the U.S.S. Saturn, the four Defenders began evading phaser fire from its ventral battery. "Get Saber squadron over here," Thelea ordered, referring to the Defenders which were on call and following close behind doing mop up operations." She quickly veered her craft left, to avoid a lumbering photon torpedo attack that was probably fused for proximity detonation. Activating her SCRAM booster, she sped away from the effective range of the photon blast. "They're going too fast, I can't hit them!" cried Security Officer Spyda. "Well, if we can't hit them, them maybe we can outmaneuver them," suggested Ensign Brooks. "Helmsman, can you outmaneuver them?" asked Gingerbeard. "I've piloted an E-frame before," replied the helmsman, "I can do this!" Eyes intent on his control panel, he focused on taking evasive maneuvers from the fighters. The four missile boats were now within 300 meters of the Saturn, and Thelea swerved around the side of the starship to end up just over the Saturn's roll bar, pausing to match speed with the larger vessel. "There's a blind spot here," she mentioned to her comlink, testing the Saturn's shields with her laser cannon, "so try to stay on the dorsal side of the ship. Also, the two dorsal phasers are probably calibrated to fry anything that charges the bridge, so stay to one side." Suddenly, the larger ship began making a barrel roll, almost catching her and swatting her Defender like a fly. "They 're not gonna make it easy for us!" she cautioned to her wingmen as she banked heavily to stay in the Saturn's blind spot. "Captain, eight more vessels of the same type have just decloaked. . . or something," warned Lt. Spyda. Captain Gingerbeard sighed. His stomach was lurching from the helmsman's evasive maneuvers. "Well, it looks like we may not get out of this alive.", he said, shaking his dizzy head. "But we have to warn the Federation about these intruders!" protested Spyda, before the bridge quaked from another missile impact and he was sent face first into the floor. Commander Hyde looked around at the smoke filled bridge, "Wait, I have an idea. . ." The remaining eight missile boats that were attacking other relay stations had joined the fray. "They're concentrating shields on the bridge," reported her wingman." "Good," replied Thelea, "now we can get that ventral phaser array." Her Missile Boat performed an extremely tight maneuver, cresting the top of the Saturn's saucer and ending up in javelin-throwing range of the ventral phaser array. Dozens of proton torpedoes and concussion missiles slammed into the phaser battery, but not before it fired on her vessel. Thelea's boat shook from phaser impact, the shields were knocked offline but the hull was intact. She was alive! Thelea laughed. "Try more power next time, you weaklings" she thought as she fled the erupting explosion from what used to be the phaser battery. Suddenly, an odd tinkling noise surrounded her and the cockpit of the missile boat began shimmering. "{What-the hell.}" thought Thelea, but she quickly reached for her blaster pistol as she found herself staring at a group of Starfleet personnel leveling phaser rifles towards her head. She was in a cramped shuttle of some sort. "Alright you Cardie scum, freeze and drop the pistol," commanded the Cardassian voice from Spyda's universal translator. Thelea looked around, not understanding the voice but understanding its intent. She dropped the pistol, not from compliance, but from shock. "{I've been matter transported}", she thought. She said it out loud this time. "I've been matter transported. I've been matter - transported! YOU BASTARDS! YOU INHUMAN SCUM! WHAT - "-civilized race uses matter transportation on people?" concluded Spyda's translator. "Doesn't seem to be Cardassian," said Hyde. "No shit." replied Spyda, threateningly brandishing his 23rd century phaser pistol. "Alright, maggot, get on that comlink of yours and tell your squadron to break off the attack." "Never!" she screamed defiantly. "Do it or we matter transport you- into vacuum" interrupted Gingerbeard. "My flight suit can hold out in a vacuum," countered Thelea "Yes, but for how long?" The fighters swung around to strafe the bulbous protrusion that passed for a bridge with laser fire. All of a sudden, Commander Mrith'hele'arana's voice came on the comlink and ordered, "Break off the attack. Code 0-2- . . . Never mind the code, just break off the attack." The squadron was glad to hear her voice, since her ship appeared to be struggling in a tractor beam from the Saturn, but this is not what they wanted to hear. "Are you su- er. please confirm that, Prime Leader.", questioned Lt. Cmdr. Caelin, Thelea's wingman." All he got was an exasperated sigh, "Just do what I say," said Thelea. "But Cleaner Squadron is due to arrive in two minutes," argued Caelin, but it was all for naught as her heard the distinctive click of Thelea's comlink shutting off. Thelea held her helmeted head in despair, but quickly regained her composure. She watched as the humans began mumbling in their strange language. "They've broken off the attack," reported Hyde. "Good," said Gingerbeard, "we've piled as many crew as we can onto this runabout. Now let's get out of here." "Agreed," said Spyda. "What is the closest Federation colony world?" asked the helmsman. Hyde interrogated the Runabout's computer and stated, "The nearest world is Delta Haggis Prime, run by one Kenneth Von Lowe. 3.5 light years away." "Well let's go then! Set course for Delta Haggis Prime." ordered Gingerbeard. The Saturn momentarily let its shields down to let the single runabout that had been crammed into its docking bay launch away. Caelin was furious as he watched the runabout shoot into warp, "They got- they- it's a trick!" "They must have Thelea hostage somehow," replied Prime 3, Lt. Giriad. "She's on that ship, the little runabout," stated Caelin. "That would make the most sense," said Giriad, "with her captured, they could warn the Federation of our presence." "Well we're not aborting the mission," exclaimed Prime 4, "Now you can go chase Thelea way past our target zone and totally screw up our mission, but I have a ship to disable. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going for the bridge!" "Burning bridges, Lieutenant? You could permanently lose a lot of friends that way." Prime 4 groaned. Only one person made jokes that bad - the leader the of Defender squadron. Wing Commander Mirius, of Saber Squadron, led his Defenders towards the besieged 'Feddie' ship. The speakers on the fighters abruptly filled with booming bass tones followed by heavy metal music after four heavily modified assault transports dropped out of hyperspace. The Cleaners had arrived. The Defenders joined Prime squadron, and went for the bridge. The slower transports were firing their heavier weaponry at it, too. Suddenly, the Saturn's dorsal phaser cannon fired, and managed to hit one of the assault transports. Singed and shaken, Cleaner One remained intact and returned fire on the Saturn with a full barrage of ion cannons. The shields, which had been holding until that point, fizzled away, and Prime and Saber squadron's fighters swooped down and made Swiss cheese out of the bridge. "Even our fighter scale ion-cannons should play havoc with the systems on this old ship, suggested Caelin. "Agreed," replied Saber Leader. He saw the decks rising just above the saucer-proper, which offered a clear target, and let loose his ion cannons. Blue waves of electricity crackled over the hull, and several force-field windows in that area popped from explosive decompression due to the loss of power. Watching the rapidly dissipating hull gases being sucked out from the bridge, LT. Hit-Man knew his part of the mission was only beginning. "Target Disabled," read the message ticker on Cleaner One's HUD. "Alright guys, " he spoke into his comm. "we're entering the ship. Unfortunately we have to take it intact." There were muffled groans from the troopers. "Yeah, I know. It means we'll have to be _careful_. But I hear our next mission is to take a space station, so save your anger for later, Ok." There was a slight thud as Cleaner One clamped onto the Saturn's hull. The Feds were probably expecting the Cleaners to dock in the shuttle bay or beam aboard to a critical location. They were unprepared for the transports simply docking with the outside hull and burning entry holes in it. Thirty stormtroopers from Cleaner One raced unopposed into the hull breach and began separating into five man squads. Zero-G stormtroopers from Cleaner Two swarmed all over the hull, probing for weak points. The Miranda class ship looked like it was being eaten alive as fighters, troopers, and transports massed on the saucer. Unsurprisingly, the Saturn's crew found that none of their instruments were working. The fact that nobody had beamed into the ship, or simply blown it up gave the remaining crew hope, though they went to pull on some vac-suits in case someone tried to space them. Some security personnel raced down the corridors, escorting the remaining officers to a rendezvous so they could self-destruct the ship. Others sat sweating in their vac-suits, phasers tensely drawn, ready to fire at the first intruder. After waiting for several minutes, hearing only the ship's computer reporting explosive decompression, they became very nervous. LT. Hit-Man led his squad in the engineering section, expertly shooting down any crewmembers that poked their heads around a corner. They were using flechette ammunition in a vacuum environment, so that in the event of a hit, suit decompression would result. It was a bit messy, but made sure that no circuits and controls got needlessly destroyed. Eventually, they arrived at the warp core, where creeping up to the dilithium chamber, they spotted a Federation yeoman pointing a phaser rifle at the most critical part of the ship. It was the last desperate attempt to destruct the Saturn, after control had been lost from Ion cannon, heavy jamming, and electromagnetic pulse. Reaching out with the force, LT. Hit-Man probed the yeoman's mind He figured out why the boy hadn't fired; he was in a state of shock on seeing the blood-encrusted stormtroopers. Not wanting to alarm the quivering human with any sudden movements, as that might cause him to fire, Hit-Man used the dark tendrils of his powers to grip the yeoman's phaser before he could realize what was going on, and pointed it in another direction. The phaser fired, as the yeoman's finger was on the trigger, but it merely blew a hole through a display console. The Cleaners dispatched him with a barrage of flechette missiles, and he dropped to the floor, firing the phaser one more time. LT. Hit-Man was no longer worried. Had that yeoman fired when he was pointing the phaser at the core, it might be all over, but not anymore. The ship was secured. Checks from all the boarding parties came in. The entire ship had been neutralized, with the loss of only 3 stormtroopers Command crew, as well as technical and support personnel began pouring in from the other transports. A short, clipped message came in for the Cleaners from Admiral Kalgan, "Well done. A Modular Taskforce Cruiser will be here to pick you up and tow this ship away." LT. Hit-Man looked around at the spoils of war. A pitiable ship, old and slow, but it would be useful. "Well, looks like we got a new toy to play with," he said to no one in particular. *** The Enterprise was enroute to a rendezvous with the Orz when it was overtaken by a recorded subspace transmission. "Incoming recorded message from Admiral Haden. Captains eyes only." said the comm. officer. "Put it on-screen," ordered Picard, "I feel my crew has a right to know what 's going on!" Admiral Haden's face appeared on the viewscreen, and he started talking excitedly. "Captain, we've detected extraordinary readings from the Argus Array which can only be the movement of hundreds, possibly thousands of Borg cubes. As you already know, the Argus Array has been secretly monitoring the unidentified star system from where the parasites that invaded Starfleet Headquarters five years ago are believed to have originated. The cubes have expanded in a dense concentration nearly ten light years in diameter. They' re looking for something, Jean-Luc." Picard and Riker exchanged confused glances, but the message droned on without them. "In addition, we've detected what looks like one or two thermonuclear explosions in the 50,000 megaton range. This is far different than the strange energy signatures we've seen emanating from the region for the past few months. Indeed, if I didn't know better, I'd say someone's giving the Borg a run for their money. An invader, perhaps extragalactic in origin. Well, just thought I'd let you know Captain, so you wouldn't be caught by surprise by any new developments." "What the hell was that all about?" asked Riker, "Why would he bother to send this to us?" "I don't know," replied a flabbergasted Picard, "The man has to justify his existence, and I guess there's nothing interesting going on in the Cardassian border." End of part 4a Imperial Spearhead - Chapter 4b Lieutenant Tradesh of the Cardassia Prime Cargo Ship _Klavor_ became very alarmed when six unknown starships appeared out of nowhere at his convoy meeting point. They were, according to the scanners, about the size of Galor class warships, but with far higher energy readings than he would anticipate from a ship of that size. Too stunned to take evasive action, after all he was only a part-time officer on a fleet auxiliary who had bought his way to this position, he watched as the little Hideki-class escorts raced to intercept the menacing cruisers. They were the first to go, shot up by some kind of point-defense cannon. Then, the interlopers moved quickly towards his convoy, disturbingly quickly for ships even in the light-cruiser range, and engaged the three Galors. Disruptor fire lit up the shields of the unknown craft. Tradesh considered sending a distress call, but surely someone else would have done so by now, and there seemed to be heavy jamming on all frequencies anyway. The Galors were concentrating their fire, fortunately, but so were the invaders. One of the invader's cruisers began suffering shield loss, and sped away from the Galors to be replaced by a fresh new cruiser in attack position. It was a sick dance, but highly effective, as none of the enemy ships had been lost at this point in time. All too soon the Galors were gone, and only then did the Lieutenant realize the other transports had been under attack by some kind of small fighter craft. Why his cargo ship had not been attacked, he did not know. Perhaps it was because he was at the far end of the convoy, and consequently farthest from this battle. As the other cargo ships began to explode from small cannon and missile fire, the cruisers came in to collect their fighters. Tradesh figured he might get away unscathed and decided to get the hell out of the sector as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, a photon torpedo had been fired shortly before he thought of giving the order to go to warp. {A Federation photon torpedo, interestingly enough, according to the scanners.} A hit on the energized warp coils would have blown the _Klavor_ to Cardassia Prime and Tradesh was not a risk taking Cardassian. Watching the torpedo helplessly, he hoped it would hit one of his cargo modules that weren't full of explosive material. Sure enough, the torpedo blew through the shields and impacted on the second cargo pod from the engines, which contained frozen fish. But it caused the antimatter pods on the engine to explode, separating a third off the ship and sending it careening through space. "Well, I'm not dead," thought Tradesh, applying a medic ribbon to his forehead to staunch the flow of blood. The jamming had stopped, and his distress beacon was wailing loudly for all to hear. *** Captain Gingerbeard's remaining runabout took up an orbital position over Delta Haggis prime. "Requesting permission to land," asked Lt. Spyda, activating the Runabout's small communications terminal. Delta Haggis Prime had no orbital station, being a relatively minor agricultural world. But it was a proud Scottish colony, and maintained a high standard of living. This was obvious to the shuttle crew once they had been cleared to land. Vast tracts of wilderness, hilly green fields, and crystal-clear rivers made up the landscape, and the crew found themselves wishing they were on leave here if only they weren't in a state of war. The runabout landed at the governor's residence. An eager, middle-aged man came running up to the landing party. "My name's Kenneth Von Lowe, though I'm usually called the Baron for my tight-fisted way of running this planet." "{And he takes this as a complement?"}" wondered Hyde. "Now let's get down to business," said Lowe, "you say the Federation's under attack and you need my authority to commandeer a starship so you can get a captured enemy officer back to Starfleet?" "Yes, that's right." Agreed Gingerbeard. "Well then, I can get you a Nebula-class starship only a few dozen light years away from here. In the meantime, won't you stay for some whiskey?" "Well, no, actually," said Spyda. "Great! I'll order us a round," responded the Baron. "Uhhhh, we have a prisoner," interjected Spyda. "Oh, right," growled Lowe in his Scottish accent, "I'll have that ship for you as soon as possible." "Good," replied Spyda, "'cause there's some important shit going on out there and Starfleet better know what's happening before more people get hurt" *** Meanwhile, in a completely different universe, sitting at the edge of a quasispace portal, was Commodore Graeme Dice's joint Human/Chmrr task force. They were based near a super-hot blue star, and the metallic hulls of the starships reflected shining blue light in all directions. Commodore Dice 's cruiser, the _Savage_, had just arrived all the way from Earth. Prompted by his arrival, Captain Highwire, his immediate subordinate, hailed him. "Glad to see you, Commodore," said Trylia, fidgeting with her officer's cap, "The fleet is currently standing by for a scouting mission into the new universe. Are we awaiting any Shofixti Scouts or recon-modified Stingers?" "No," replied Dice, "none of the other Alliance races have been notified of the presence of this new portal, due to the possible need for secrecy, so we won't be able to use their craft. Except for the Chmrr, of course, because of their proximity to the portal. In time, we hope to bring a delegation from each Alliance race, though we will have to make peaceful contact first." "Of course, sir. So what exactly will our scouting mission consist of?" "Well, firstly it won't be a scouting mission. I already have a destination picked out." Dice saw the bewildered expression on Captain Highwire's face, which was understandable since no incursions had been officially made through the portal. He decided to explain before she could ask more questions. "While on the way here, I took the liberty of asking for the design plans of the Sylandro Probe to be sent over to the Chmrr. In case you don't know what a Sylandro Probe is, though you should, it is a robot-crewed self-replicating exploration vessel. A simple Melnorme design, really, just a large replicator, power generator, sensor relay, and robot crew pods all strapped on to a large pair of highly efficient hydrogen ramscoops, with some defensive missiles to boot. Its priorities are also simple: 1 - Explore worlds and make peaceful contact with new species 2 - Convert asteroid mass into energy 3 - Seek raw materials for replication" Trylia raised an eyebrow, "So you sent one of these probes in and now it and others are searching the galaxy for intelligent life?" "That's right," said Dice proudly, "but there's more. We've found some intelligent new species, but they live for the most part on isolated worlds, them not being space faring civilizations, and our most far-reaching probes only discovered them. These were the ones that survived the onslaught by a new enemy that calls itself the 'Dominion'. It seems the quasispace portal exits in a section of space occupied by this coalition, and they are unfriendly and destroy our probes on sight. I could modify the probes to be more effective against their vessels, but that would be a hostile gesture." "I see. So what's the plan then?" asked Highwire. "We should talk some sense into this 'Dominion'," replied Dice, "I'm hoping that maybe if they see that there's an alliance interested in a peace treaty with them, they will react more favourably. We can't send in a combined Alliance strategic force until we know what they will do when there is another power in their quadrant." "Do you know anything about their technology?" asked Trylia? "Well, I can't tell you much about their weapons technology, since our probes who have engaged in combat with them haven't returned. As far as other technologies, they seem to have deflector screens similar to ours, though we keep ours hugging the hull while they prefer the rare, but more powerful 'bubble' design. I suspect they rarely encounter the types of ramming and mass driving projectile weapons we do. For propulsion they seem to use warp drive, and-" "Warp drive," interjected one of his captains, "isin't that a Precursor technology?" "Yes," answered Dice, "but our scientists have the theory down, we just don't have a working model to experiment with. Which is another reason for embarking on this mission. Forgive me if we're leaving in an era of unprecedented galactic peace, but Hyperdrive and Warp Drive combined would make a formidable weapon. Now is there anyone who disagrees with my plan?" Trylia and the other captains agreed with Dice's decisions. After some brief consultation with the Chmrr, the fleet moved into position and poised to take off. Entering hyperspace, six Earthling Cruisers and five Chmrr Avatars accelerated to thousands of times the speed of light, and slipped through the ominous green gap that separated two universes. *** "Now approaching site of Terabithia incident", reported Data, "Approximate distance: 2 light years." Picard nodded. Perhaps now he'd have a chance at patching together this mess resulting from a disastrous first contact with a highly volatile species. Picard began to voice his thoughts, but was interrupted by Data. "Captain, incoming emergency boosted transmission from Starfleet Headquarters." "What now?" asked Riker. The viewscreen changed from the warp-starfield to the interior of Starfleet Headquarters, which was in complete disarray. Picard saw the lean figure of Admiral, no, Vice-Admiral Boyd, he corrected himself. Starfleet hadn't been very kind to the hawks in Starfleet lately, with the removal of Jellico from command and the demotion of Boyd. Picard remembered the court martial well. Boyd had been indicted and demoted for "inflicting excessive Tholian casualties" in an unpublicized and highly classified border skirmish. But truth was that Starfleet hadn't many officers like him and therefore could not afford to lose many more. "Captain," started Boyd, "don't interrupt me because I don't have any time to waste. The Federation is under attack from the Cardassian border, most likely by the Cardassians though some of us think otherwise. We've lost a few ships, the entire subspace relay network is down, and we've only been able to receive communications from outgoing starships. The initial attack seems to be over, and we're considering sending the Wolf 359 defensive fleet we've prepared for the Borg in addition to the mobilization already happening in the area." "{My God, it's finally happened,}" thought Riker." "Now I know what you're thinking," continued Boyd, "that if it is not the Cardassians, then it is the Orz. But our sources indicate otherwise. It seems to be most likely the unidentified species we've been tracking for some time now." An image of an angry-looking, feminine, humanoid appeared on the screen. Boyd paused, then described it, "From what we can tell, it's a humanoid, blue-skinned race with some interesting technology. Weapons include a strange new type of energy weapon that we're adapting our defenses to, and a metallic cylinder which was found, to the dismay of two now decapitated Starfleet personnel, to be an energy-sword of some sort." This was all very interesting, but Picard's ship was already racing towards the site of a previous battle where a Federation starship had nearly been destroyed. "Are we to continue on with our standing orders, then?" he asked. "Yes," replied Boyd, "and with double importance. We _need_ an alliance with these Orz. If anything can stop the enemy, or the Cardassians, . . . or both, it's those freaky green bastards. Now go get 'em, Captain. The Federation is depending on you." Picard's weary forehead rested on his knuckles. "Understood Admiral. Picard out." The Enterprise accelerated and sped somberly towards a rendezvous that would decide the fate of the Federation. End of chapter 4b Special thanks: Discussion: -Commander Thelea -LT. Hit-Man -Phong Nguyen -Rob Dalton -Allen W. McDonnell -Spyda Fanfic Archive: -Mark Sheppard (Get back soon!) -Rob Dalton Images: Orz vessel courtesy of Mango at Star Control 3d http://www.star-control.com/sc3d/