Confrontation
by Steve Bellinger
Part One
Duncan McLeod sat transfixed in front of the Viewscreen in his San Francisco apartment. He was watching real-time images beamed directly from the U.S.S. Montgomery Scott and broadcast throughout the Federation as it joined five other starships in a bloody battle with the Borg. Not the Borg, he solemnly reminded himself. A single Borg cube.
It was going very badly. The Federation forces were part of an unlikely alliance; there was a Klingon battlecruiser and two Romulan War Birds fighting next to the Scott, the Potemkin and the Ronald McNair.
The foolishly brave and bold Klingon warriors of the Kang were the first to go. In true Klingon style, they charged in, phasers and photons blasting, ignoring all warnings from the Starfleet crews. By the time they realized their weapons fire was just bouncing off the Borg's shields, they were already in the grip of the enemy's tractor beam. The Borg sliced off both warp nacelles with phasers. The battlecruiser, its crippled warp system spurting plasma like severed arteries, soon vaporized itself.
The Romulans were quick to respond. They sent a volley of photon torpedoes towards the tractor emitter, correctly assuming that there would be minimal or no shielding there while the beam was active. The Borg ship suffered significant damage with the first hit, but had re-established shields by the time the second torpedo arrived.
The audio that McLeod heard was communications chatter among the Federation vessels. Even though Starfleet had had much more experience fighting the Borg, the Romulans were not about to take orders or advice from humans.
The Starfleet people, however, were nothing less than heroic. When the Borg began to focus phasers on the Romulans, the Scott and two other starships tried to draw the enemy's fire.
They were successful. McLeod watched as a volley of photons came toward him on the screen-a bright flash-then nothing.
McLeod stared at the blank screen for several seconds.
The image of a woman in a Starfleet uniform appeared. She sat behind a desk while the text "Azalea Munoz, Starfleet Information Bureau" appeared briefly at the bottom of the screen. She solemnly announced that the destruction of the U.S.S. Scott had been confirmed, and that communications from the remaining ships had been broken off shortly after the demise of the Scott. They were presumed destroyed, also.
As the names of the crewmembers of the lost ships slowly scrolled up the screen, MacLeod got up from his chair and sighed heavily.
"Computer, screen off."
The viewscreen went dark.
He walked over to a window and looked out over the city. He had been to San Francisco many, many times. When people rode horses and carriages up and down its streets; during the latter years of the reconstruction after the big earthquake--the first one, that is; and a few times at the beginning of the 21st century. Now, he hardly recognized it. The Golden Gate Bridge, barely visible between the buildings, was the only familiar landmark.
Even the people are different, he thought, if "people" was the right word. The city was the seat of the United Federation of Planets, and home to Starfleet Command headquarters. Many strange and interesting alien beings walked the streets. It kind of reminded him of a tour he once took at a movie studio, with actors casually strolling about in the wildest costumes and weirdest make up. Only this was real; the blue-skinned Andorian crossing the street, the short-haired, very human-looking Bajoran woman in what looked like a high ranking Starfleet uniform; and the thin dark-skinned man with pointed ears heading for MacLeod's apartment building.
A couple of minutes later, the door chime sounded.
"Come on in," McLeod said flatly. The door slid open and Tuvoc walked through.
"Live long and prosper, my friend," Tuvoc greeted him with the traditional Vulcan sentiment and gesture.
"I've already done both!" McLeod grinned.
Tuvoc raised an eyebrow, "That is the seventeenth time that you have responded that way when I have greeted you. Is a joke more effective the more it is repeated?"
"Not usually," McLeod's grin faded. "I suppose if you laughed at it just once..."
"Vulcans do not laugh."
"They don't live forever, either."
"I am a rare exception."
"My point exactly," McLeod grinned again.
Tuvoc frowned, a little confused.
"I'm just messing with your mind," Duncan laughed.
Tuvoc's frown got deeper. "Is there any news on the war?"
McLeod sighed loudly, "I was just watching the latest battle. Six ships against one Borg. We lost. Again."
"It does not look good. I understand that they are headed our way."
"They will be here in a few months if we don't stop them." McLeod banged his fist against the wall, "Dammit! I feel like this is my fault!"
"How is that possible?"
"Methos has got to be behind this! It wasn't until he got mixed up with the Borg that they became so aggressive! You should have seen it! They cut up this Klingon ship; not for the parts, but to watch it bleed and destroy itself! That just sounds too much like the old Methos; the murderer!
"And I had him in my reach! There must have been something I could have done! Worst of all, he is one of us! He is an immortal! He is our responsibility! Don't you see that?"
"Actually, I do-to a point," Tuvoc said calmly. "I don't believe that you or I are at all responsible; but I agree that as immortals we may be best equipped to deal with Methos."
"So what do you suggest?"
"I suggest that we apply for jobs."
"What?"
"Star Salvage is looking for scavengers to do survey and recovery of battle damaged ships."
McLeod shook his head, "What good would that do?"
"It would get us deep into otherwise restricted territory. Closer to the Borg and to Methos."
"Then what?"
"We 'play it by ear' as you often say."
"You mean, improvise?" McLeod smiled.
"I believe I said that!"
Confrontation
by Steve Bellinger
Part 2
Getting hired at Star Salvage was easy. The required 3 weeks of training was another thing. The dangers of salvage work required training in on-the-job safety, deep space survival, and basic weapons; after all, they could end up in enemy territory. McLeod excelled in the physical training but barely made it through the technical parts. Tuvoc got the highest possible rankings in both; after all, they were only set for human standards.
For nearly a month, Tuvoc and McLeod, after convincing Captain Gomez that they made a good team, proved themselves to be top scavengers, or scavvies, as some liked to be called. They were willing to be the first to check out the most hazardous derelicts.
Not that they were the bravest. They were looking for an opportunity. A way to get to Methos. And they had the advantage of the secret weapon of immortality. They could survive almost anything short of a warp core explosion. Which is why they insisted on working as a team--alone. Once, a piece of super-hard metal from an exploding plasma conduit struck McLeod in the chest and killed him. His recovery a few minutes later would have been tough to explain if anyone other than Tuvoc had been around.
Eventually, they made their way to the site of a recent battle deep in enemy territory. Tuvoc checked the computer files on the wrecks they were going to try cannibalize for usable equipment. The remains of the U.S.S. Ronald McNair were there--and it looked quite promising.
Captain Gomez entered the briefing room and the 35 men and women sitting in their seats got quiet. He got right to the point. "Good morning, scavvies! We're a few thousand kilometers from what remains of the U.S.S. McNair. It's all that's left of six ships that engaged the Borg here a couple of months ago. It was seriously damaged in the battle; the warp core containment is dangerously unstable, but it has some extremely valuable technology on board. Our job is to recover any and all usable equipment, then, as usual, destroy what's left.
"I'll need two--"
McLeod jumped from his seat, "We'll do it! Tuvoc and I volunteer!"
"Again?" a voice came from the back of the room.
"Duncan," Gomez grinned, "I appreciate your tenacity but--"
"Tenacity?" the voice in the back barked. "I suppose the extra hazard pay has nothing to do with it!"
"We live for danger," McLeod smiled broadly. "Besides, Tuvoc here is the best qualified to work on the damaged warp core."
"Because he's a Vulcan--" Gomez groaned.
"A very smart Vulcan!" Duncan added.
"And what do you say, Tuvoc?"
Tuvoc stood and emotionlessly addressed the captain," I believe our combination of skills would make us the logical choice."
"Aw, come on, Captain! They always get the hazard pay!"
Gomez raised his voice, "Are you volunteering too, Randall?"
"Yeah--yeah, I am!"
"Then it's Tuvoc, Duncan and Randall. We'll be there in an hour. Randall! You'll do remote support!"
Randall growled, "Yes, sir!"
"I want the three of you in my office in ten, the rest of you relax for now. In a few hours we'll begin full scale recovery and there's going to be plenty to do!"
Gomez turned and left the room.
"Hey," Randall walked up behind the two immortals. "I've had it with you guys hogging all the hazard pay--look, I'll do all I can to make you guys look good if you'll include me next time!"
McLeod sighed, "Just do your job, Randall. We don't need your help to look good. Besides, you'll get hazard pay for this job, too!"
"Yeah, but not nearly as much as you!"
"You are the best," Captain Gomez sat at his desk while he addressed the three scavvies. "Randall, if you perform as well as I suspect you will, I'll make sure you head up the next haz team."
"Thanks. I will do my best."
"Gentlemen, what I am going to tell you cannot leave this room. In fact, Starfleet may require you to undergo a memory purge procedure when we are done."
"For what reason?" Tuvoc asked.
"I am about to show you the greatest weapon we may have against the Borg. Ordinarily, a simple swearing to secrecy and your certified allegiance to the Federation might be enough. However, should you somehow get kidnapped by the Borg--well as you all know, at that point, anything you know would also be known to the collective."
"So what is it?" Randall asked.
Gomez directed them to the viewscreen. "Computer, display 'Killer Bee.'"
The screen lit up with the image of the most amazing little ship any of them had ever seen. Little in that it was about twice the size of a standard Shuttle craft. It was shaped like a cone with two stubby wings and a tail. In the back, two warp nacelles protruded from either side, reminding McLeod of how jet engines were mounted on passenger airliners back in the 1980's. It was the gleaming white color of duraluminum and it stood on two broad skids that were attached to legs protruding from the flat bottom.
"It's the latest weapon against the Borg. Small so it can get in close. Very fast. Warp 8.6 I'm told. It has layered shielding. They say it can take a photon torpedo at 10 kilometers."
"Impressive!" Tuvoc raised an eyebrow. "Was it used in the battle?"
"No," Gomez shook his head. "No one knows why. Maybe they did not have time to deploy it."
"So what are we going to be doing?" Duncan asked.
"Check out the warp core on the McNair and stabilize it if possible. Then, power up the Killer Bee and get it close enough for us to tractor it into our shuttle bay.
"Randall, you'll monitor radiation levels, core status and life signs on these guys so we can pull them out if necessary-- if possible."
"Got it."
"You two understand that we will put a discrete distance between this ship and the McNair--standard safety precautions."
"Of course," McLeod said.
"Tuvoc, you have 30 minutes to get up to speed on the Killer Bee's primary systems."
"Understood."
"Let's get this done, guys. This is critical to Federation security-and there will be a substantial bonus for all four of us," Gomez grinned. "And I want you boys back in one piece. No heroics!"
The two immortals materialized in the engineering section of the McNair. Tuvoc was already at the warp core console when Randall's voice came over the comm.
"How's it looking over there?"
"I don't see much damage," McLeod said.
"Warp core energy readings fluctuating," Tuvoc said. "Still within acceptable range. Will attempt to stabilize."
"OK. Be careful over there. We're going to move to a safe distance. Good luck."
"Thanks," McLeod said. Then he shut off the audio. "Tuvoc ?"
"The core is stable for now. I've set up a subroutine to accept commands remotely."
"Good. Let's check out the Killer Bee."
They took the turbolift to the shuttlebay where the Killer Bee sat facing the doors. "My God," McLeod said, "That's a hell of a ship!"
"Yes." Tuvoc added with the faintest hint of awe in his voice. "The images we saw did not do it justice!"
"This should do just fine!"
"Indeed! It could also get us considerable time in a penal colony if we are caught!"
McLeod smiled, "Your plan is foolproof, Tuvoc. Besides, we are going need the firepower that this baby has."
"I suppose there is no turning back, now. I shall check the systems."
Tuvoc pressed a sensor and the door slid open. The interior was actually less spacious than the average shuttlecraft. McLeod assumed this to be because the special equipment and advanced weapons systems took up so much space.
"The ship is powering up and warp engines are online."
"OK. I'm ready when you are."
Tuvoc took a small device from his pocket. "Once I start it, there is no turning back. We will have about 60 seconds!" He pressed a control on the handheld unit and the starship shuddered slightly.
"What's going on?" Randall said over the comm. "I'm reading core energy fluctuations again. Want me to get you out of there?"
Tuvoc made another adjustment. "We are working on it."
"OK-that's better. Hey! You guys aren't in engineering! You're in the shuttle bay!"
"Uh oh," McLeod said quietly.
"Why do you say that, Mr. Randall?" Tuvoc said.
"My sensors show two life forms in the shuttle bay and nothing in engineering!"
"There have been rare occasions where fluctuating warp fields have caused phase distortions in sensor signals, resulting in erroneous readings."
"Yeah?" Randall replied. "Well be careful. You're way out of transporter range!"
"Understood," Tuvoc said.
"Clever lie, Tuvoc!" McLeod grinned.
"Vulcans do not lie," Tuvoc said as he checked the Killer Bee's console again. "It is now or never!"
Tuvoc pressed a button on the hand held unit and an alarm went off inside the McNair.
"Warp core containment failure," the computer warned. "Total warp core containment collapse in 58 seconds."
"Hey, you guys!" Randall's excited voice came over the comm. "I'm reading a--"
Tuvoc switched off the comm system as he tapped controls on the Killer Bee's console. The shuttle bay doors opened and the little ship glided out.
"Warp core containment at 63. Total warp core containment collapse in 37 seconds," the computer announced over the comm.
The Killer Bee was moving away from the McNair at full impulse.
"Engaging warp drive now!" Tuvoc said as he pressed a button on the console.
Nothing happened.
"Tuvoc?" McLeod said nervously.
"Warp engines are off line!" Tuvoc cried.
"Warp core containment at 12. Warp core containment collapse is imminent."
"Tuvoc!" McLeod yelled as the Vulcan stared at the console.
"No time to explain," Tuvoc's hands flew across the console. "Brace yourself!"
There was a delay of a few seconds. Then all hell broke loose.
Confrontation
by Steve Bellinger
Part 3
There was a blinding flash and a loud thud and the tiny ship was suddenly thrust forward, as if it had been struck by a baseball bat. They were moving forward at break-neck speed, the nose of the Killer Bee wavering up and down and side to side as it shook violently.
Tuvoc was frantically working the console controls until--after what seemed an eternity--the warp drive kicked in. The space outside the ship erupted into a dazzling multicolor light show, then, just as suddenly, it turned black with stars streaking by. And it felt as if they were not moving at all.
McLeod sat in the seat next to Tuvoc, breathing hard and staring wide-eyed at the view outside. "You know, I don't think I want to know what just happened."
"When the warp engines went off line I realized I had seconds to act," Tuvoc explained calmly. "I then remembered the 'layered' shield technology built into this ship. I concentrated as much shielding as possible at the rear. Using shields at 300, instead of being vaporized, we were merely pushed by the force of the explosion. Fortunately I was able to keep the nose pointing forward. If we had gone into a spin and any unshielded part of the ship had come into contact with the shockwave..."
"You mean we rode the shockwave from the explosion that destroyed the McNair?"
"Precisely."
"Tuvoc," McLeod laughed as he shook his hand. "You are good, my man! Damn good! Hell of a liar, too!"
"Vulcans do not lie."
"Whoa, now wait a second. What was that whopper you told Randall about sensor distortions caused by warp fluctuations or something?"
"That was no lie. The effect is rare, but it has been observed and documented."
"Tuvoc, there was no distortion! We were in the shuttle bay! His sensor readings were correct!"
"I simply described the effect to him. He drew his own conclusions."
"You don't consider that lying?" McLeod grinned.
"No. I think it may be more accurate to say that I was-- 'messing with his mind.'"
The two immortals slept. The Killer Bee was on course to the last known position of the Borg cube that had done so much damage. After several hours, they were awakened by an alarm.
Tuvoc examined the readings on the console. "There is a Borg ship ahead. We have hyper-sensitive sensors; I do not believe they are aware of us."
He disengaged the warp drive.
"I guess now we see how well this ship can do against the Borg," McLeod said as he engaged the cloaking device and the Killer Bee vanished.
"I am still concerned about one thing," Tuvoc said. "Why was this ship not used in battle? Why did it sit in the McNair's shuttle bay while other starships were being destroyed?"
"They did not have time?"
"Perhaps. But I fear that it may be because this is a prototype, and as such may not be reliable. You will recall the problem with the warp engines before."
"If anyone can handle this little beauty, it's you! I 'm ready when you are," McLeod said as he sat at the weapons console.
They were closing on the Borg, who did not react. McLeod wondered if the cloaking device was working or if they just did not consider such a small ship to be any kind of threat.
Tuvoc was gathering the tools they would need for their mission when the ship shuddered violently, and another alarm sounded.
"We have been captured by a tractor beam!" Tuvoc said, surprised.
"Damn! They're on to us!"
A voice came from everywhere.
"WE ARE BORG! YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED! (snicker) RESISTANCE (hee hee) IS FUTILE! Ha ha ha!
Confrontation
by Steve Bellinger
Final Chapter
A face appeared on the viewscreen. He was obviously on the Borg ship, but he had no Borg devices attached to his body and no skin discoloration. He appeared to be a normal-looking human--normal except for a distinct red glow in his eyes.
"That is not Methos!" Tuvoc said, confused.
"No," McLeod fumed, "its worse!"
"McLeod! You mean you're not happy to see me? I'm crushed!"
"His name," McLeod growled, "is Kronos. He is the personification of evil!"
"Indeed!"
"Yes, Tuvoc. He was also one of the Four Horsemen I told you about. He was the worst of the bunch, the ring leader!"
"So, you expected to take on my Borg with that little tin can? And a cloaking device! How primitive!"
"Your Borg?" Tuvoc questioned. "You were not assimilated?"
"They can't assimilate immortals. Or hasn't McLeod explained to you..."
"He knows," McLeod said before Tuvoc could speak. "What do you mean by your Borg?"
"Vulcan," Kronos said, "do you know what a shark is?"
"A marine predator indigenous to the planet earth."
"'A marine predator indigenous to planet Earth--'" Kronos repeated mockingly. "A shark, Mr. Vulcan, is a killing machine. A perfect killing machine. And do you know what makes it perfect? The killing is almost an afterthought. It only kills to eat--if it could eat without killing, it would! It simply doesn't care!"
"What is your point?" McLeod said impatiently.
"Oh, give it a rest, McLeod," Kronos frowned at him. "I'm explaining this to your logical-minded friend. Only someone of his intellect would see the beauty in this."
"I can see no 'beauty' in the killing of innocents." Tuvoc said flatly. "Please continue."
"Well, my Borg are perfect killing machines--quite literally, actually," Kronos grinned at his little joke, "because they kill only to assimilate. The killing is just a means to an end. They are perfect because they are totally dispassionate!"
"That," Tuvoc said, "simply makes them a weapon."
Kronos blinked. "Yes, Vulcan, my weapon. And after I finish with you--"
McLeod and Tuvoc watched in surprise while Kronos was nearly thrown from his seat.
"What the bloody--?"
"The tractor beam is gone!" Tuvoc said.
Kronos disappeared from the screen. They could now see that his ship was under attack. A moment later they saw the aggressors. Three other Borg cubes were firing phasers at him.
"We are being hailed," Tuvoc said as he saw the indicator blink. He activated the comm.
The image on the viewscreen was a Borg, but it was clear who really was behind the pale mottled skin and implants.
"Look, whoever you are, get the hell out of here while you c--oh damn it all! I should have known! McLeod, what the bloody hell are you doing here?"
"I'm here to stop you, Methos!" McLeod yelled.
"Do you have any idea who is on that ship? It's Kronos! I'm trying to stop Kronos! You two get your asses out of here, now! I can handle this!" The laser emitter over his right eye flashed as his head moved.
"I think his suggestion is wise. Three against one--he will not need our help." Tuvoc said as he engaged the impulse engines.
"Ok, we're going to back off, but we are not going anywhere."
"Fine, fine, just get out of the way!"
Tuvoc piloted the Killer Bee a few thousand kilometers away. Far enough to be 'out of the way' but close enough to see the action.
McLeod and Tuvoc watched as Methos' three ships were starting to do some serious damage. Kronos was taking hits faster than his ship could repair itself. It looked like it would be a quick, simple victory.
Then it happened.
One of Methos' ships stopped firing. For a minute it just hung there. Then, just as suddenly, it began firing weapons again, but not at Kronos--it was now attacking Methos.
"Kronos must have managed to gain control of one of Methos' ships," Tuvoc said. "If he gets control of the others--"
"We've got to go back in there," McLeod said softly. "Back to our original plan."
"Of course. I see no other way at the moment."
The Killer Bee streaked towards the strange-looking confrontation. Two sets of stationary, identical-looking cubes hurling photon torpedoes and phaser beams at each other. Half the time the weapons fire was absorbed by the shields. Where damage was done repairs were made within a couple of minutes.
"This could go on for days!" McLeod exclaimed.
"14.7 days continuous, assuming each ship has a reasonable amount of fuel, and assuming Kronos does not take over another ship."
As they approached the action, Methos appeared on the screen.
"MCLEOD!" he shouted as his laser emitter flashed.
"You need our help!" McLeod shouted back. "Keep them busy!"
Methos snarled and his image vanished from the screen.
The Killer Bee closed on Kronos' ship, dodging weapons fire while its layered shields absorbed the direct hits. McLeod attached a phaser pistol to his belt as Tuvoc handed him a tricorder.
"Make sure you destroy the condenser unit only," the Vulcan said showing him an image on the tricorder screen. "That should give you 60 to 90 seconds. When you're done, return to the location where you beamed in and activate the beacon on the tricorder. I will get the signal, but there will be too much interference to get a positive lock on to you. I will simply beam up whoever--or whatever is there. Do you understand?"
"Understood," McLeod said.
Tuvoc took Duncan's hand and shook it firmly. "Good luck, my friend."
McLeod raised his other hand in the traditional Vulcan salute, "Live long and prosper, Tuvoc."
Duncan smiled as Tuvoc stepped away and engaged the transporter. The Vulcan watched him dematerialize.
"I have already done both."
McLeod was breathless when he materialized inside the Borg ship. Dozens of drones were calmly walking about or working at consoles. Totally ignoring him. Hardly the look of a crew in the midst of a life and death battle, he thought. Calm was not the word to describe them. Unemotional. Dispassionate. That was more like it. Death probably had no meaning to them. He recalled Kronos' comparison to sharks and shuddered.
"Let's get this over with," he said out loud to himself. "Hey! Over here!" he yelled. They continued to ignore him. He took his phaser and shot one of them.
That got their attention. Two drones suddenly turned his way. He shot at another one, but the Borg had adapted and the phaser beam bounced off its invisible force field.
The drone lifted a prosthetic arm and pointed it at McLeod. A disrupter beam fired from the arm hitting McLeod in the chest, burning a small hole though his body.
"Tuvoc, you and McLeod have got to get out of here," Methos spoke from the viewscreen. "This is not your fight!"
"We all must confront the Borg threat." Tuvoc said as he watched closely for McLeod's signal.
"OH DAMN!" Methos cried just before his image disappeared. The viewscreen switched to the view of the battle.
Methos' other cube ship had stopped firing. He was now alone.
McLeod stirred. His head hurt like hell and he still felt a dull pain in his chest as his body finished healing. He slowly got up, carefully watching the drones that seemed to be oblivious of him.
"Alright, Tuvoc," he said to himself, "I hope you're right!"
He opened the tricorder and figured out which way to go. He slowly walked past several drones that were busy at consoles or carrying equipment. When he approached a door and it slid open, he found himself face to face with a Borg. He quickly stepped back and the drone walked through the door past McLeod as if he were not there.
"Amazing," he whispered to himself as he walked though the portal. "They don't see me! In their minds, I'm dead!"
He entered the engineering area. Dozens of drones worked at consoles. In the center, a big green glowing cylinder: the warp core. At one end of the room, a large viewscreen showed images of the raging battle. He could see that one of the ships had stopped shooting. Which one? he wondered hopelessly.
He looked around and found the series of nine access panels that Tuvoc had described. He counted to the seventh and removed the cover. In the middle of a bunch of incomprehensible circuitry was his target; the condenser that was essential in maintaining the matter / anti-matter containment field.
McLeod raised his phaser pistol and took aim at the basketball-sized sphere and fired. It exploded with a loud "pop" and a shower of sparks. The alarm that sounded a second later and the half dozen drones that came to investigate told him that his mission had been accomplished.
He ran through the portals and corridors as he retraced his steps to the beam-out point.
He got there and found a drone standing on his spot! He ran up and pushed the drone who stumbled away, confused.
Guessing that he had 30 seconds to spare, McLeod opened the tricorder to activate the beacon.
Then the alarm stopped.
"Damn!" he shouted as he ran back to the warp core.
When he got there, it looked as if all were normal--as if nothing had happened. The access panel cover was back in place and all of the drones were at their consoles. He removed the cover--a new replacement condenser had been installed!
Duncan McLeod blasted the new condenser, then for good measure, he used the beam from his phaser to melt all of the circuitry around it.
"Let's see you fix that!" he said as the alarms went off again.
McLeod ran towards the beam-out point while a very bewildered drone stared at the fused circuitry.
Tossing drones aside, he once again arrived at the proper co-ordinates. He waited a few extra seconds to be sure--the alarms did not stop--then he turned on the beacon signal.
A couple of moments later, he felt the tingling sensation of the transporter field. He was enveloped by a fuzzy bright light for a few of seconds.
"Tuvoc! That was one hell of a--wait a minute!" The transporter beam was gone, but he was not on the Killer Bee as he expected. He was on a Borg ship! He had not gone anywhere! And to make matters worse, there was no alarm!
"I don't believe this!" he said as ran toward the warp core again, "I just don't believe this!"
The drones ignored him as he entered the large room again. The access panel was in place. When he removed it, everything was there, the condenser, the circuitry, everything. It was as if nothing had happened.
He turned to look at the view screen. The Killer Bee was streaking on a collision course with one of the Borg cubes. Its shields protected it from the Borg's weapons fire. The tiny ship made contact with the cube, disappearing inside it. A moment later, a bright flash as the two ships were vaporized.
"Tuvoc!" McLeod whispered to himself. Then he yelled, "This has got to stop!"
He spun around and glared at the green glowing warp core. He took out his phaser and set it to its highest level.
"This has got to do something!"
He aimed the phaser pistol at the center of the warp core.
"This time." he whispered to himself, "you're not coming back."
"MCLEOD! WAIT!"
He turned and saw Methos of Borg and Tuvoc running towards him.
McLeod lowered the phaser and went limp. Limp with fatigue, limp with relief, and limp with sheer confusion.
"A most regrettable oversight!" Tuvoc said.
"It all worked out for the best," McLeod smiled.
"But I should have realized that the Borg would have back-up replacements of such a critical piece of equipment!"
"It's alright," McLeod tried to comfort his friend. "The plan itself was a stroke of genius!"
The three immortals were sitting in Methos' quarters on his Borg ship. He had already shed his Borg accouterments.
"I still don't understand what this 'plan' was and how it was supposed to work." Methos said.
"As you know, the Borg are little more than living computers, Tuvoc explained. "Their perceptions are limited to their experience. When one Borg saw McLeod die, his death was registered with the entire collective. At least with Kronos' collective. The Borg have no concept of immortality; it is not logical. Seeing McLeod walking around after suffering what should have been a mortal wound was beyond their experience. It was illogical. So they did what most machines do when they are faced with the incomprehensible. They ignored it--and him."
"Is that what you do?" Methos asked seriously.
"I am not a machine."
"I think he's trying to ask," McLeod said. "How did you know it would work?"
"The drones ignored you until you became a threat. Even now, the idea of aliens aboard their ship is beyond their comprehension. So the idea was not without precedent."
Methos reflected on his life as a Borg. "Good Lord, that actually makes sense to me. I am not going to miss being one of those God-forsaken things, that's for sure!"
"So, what happened to the Killer Bee?" Duncan asked.
"Kronos was about to take control of another one of Methos' ships. There was no way Methos could survive a three-against one engagement. You were past due and we had to act quickly.
"I set the shields on maximum, engaged maximum impulse power and started the destruct sequence."
"Then I beamed him over here," Methos said with a slight grin.
"With the Killer Bee gone, I no longer had the co-ordinates to beam you back. Once on Methos' ship I simply 'mirrored' the co-ordinates to beam you from one Borg ship to the same location on this one."
"I get it--I think" McLeod said, "So Kronos and his ship were destroyed by the warp core explosion that I started."
"Right, we've saved the Universe. Time to go." Methos said.
"Go where?" McLeod asked.
"You'll see," Methos smiled as the three immortals were taken by transporter beams.
"A Ferengi ship?" Tuvoc observed as they materialized on the bridge.
"Now you know why I needed to meet with the Ferengis," Methos said. "Who else would provide me with a ship no questions asked?"
"The Ferengis sold you a ship?" Tuvoc's voice had a hint of surprise.
"No, they rented it to me. Cheap bastards..." Methos grumbled as he powered up the ship and engaged the impulse drive.
"What about those?" McLeod gestured toward the two Borg cubes visible on the viewscreen.
"Oh, that," Methos took out a small device, obviously of Borg design, and manipulated the controls.
The Borg ships exploded.
"Methos!" McLeod grabbed him by the collar, "You just killed thousands of--"
"Machines?" Methos snatched himself away. "They were mindless bloody automatons, McLeod!"
"I guess you're right," Duncan sighed, wondering if Methos had changed all that much.
"May I ask your destination, Methos?" Tuvoc asked.
"Well, I'll drop you two off at Earth, return this thing and find myself some quiet, non-violent world where I can relax for a few decades. I was with the Borg for almost a year. You can't imagine how much I crave a little privacy."
"Well, I can't wait to get back home," McLeod said.
"But everyone there believes we are dead!" Tuvoc objected.
"So we come up with some kind of wild survival story. The wilder the better!"
"I am afraid that I cannot be a survivor," Tuvoc said.
"Why not? I thought we were partners!"
"You are, and always will be, my friend."
Methos sighed, "Do I have to listen to this?"
McLeod shot him an angry look.
Tuvoc continued. "I am hoping that I can be taken to the Praxis system--"
"Wherever you want," Methos shrugged.
"The terraformers?" McLeod asked.
"Yes, they take volunteers, no questions asked. I will establish a new identity. Then, after a few years, I will join Starfleet again."
"What new identity? I mean, how could I find you if I wanted to look you up?"
For the first time, McLeod saw Tuvoc smile. "Quite simple, actually. To change my identity in the Federation's databases I merely have to change the spelling of my name. I am going to change the 'c' at the end to a 'k.'
"What?" Methos cried.
"The letter 'k' is 8 letters away from the letter 'c' in your alphabet. It is common knowledge that the Federation computer systems work on a hexadecimal or base 16 model.
"This results in an unusual computational anomaly, what I believe you humans would metaphorically refer to as a 'bug,' whereas certain specific applications of the number 8, which evenly divides into 16, can clearly result in odd, but not unpredictable occurrences."
Methos frowned and shook his head, "Clearly," he said mockingly as he rolled his eyes.
"It is also widely known that the Federation computers are synchronized by clocks that run on sidereal stardate time. If I make the change precisely on a stardate that ends with the number 8--"
"ENOUGH!" Methos yelled. "Computers! Borg! Vulcans! I can't take anymore of this technobabble! Set a course for Praxis! Let's get him wherever the hell he's going! I am going to lie down! You're giving me a headache!"
With that, Methos got up and left the bridge.
"Tuvok," McLeod chuckled, "Is all that gobbledygook true?"
"Not entirely. I am, indeed, changing my name, but I fabricated the information about the computer anomaly."
"You lied?"
"It was a joke!"
"Methos did not think it was so funny!" McLeod laughed.
"No," Tuvok smiled slightly, "but you did, did you not?"
"I got a kick out of Methos' reaction!"
"I thought I would be interesting to 'mess with his mind'"
"And I thought Vulcans didn't believe in such things."
"Normally we do not. But it seems that immortals do!"
"DAMMIT!" Methos' voice came over the comm.
"What's wrong?" McLeod asked.
"The beds! They're all too damned small! Ferengi bastards!"
McLeod and Tuvok laughed.
At the site of the last battle for the galaxy, a fight of which few will ever know, billions of tons of debris, the remains of four Borg cubes and the valiant little Killer Bee, are racing through space, away from the center of the explosions that launched them. Some will travel for eons until they smash into a planetoid or burn up in an atmosphere. Some will be captured by the gravity of a star or planet to become satellites. Some will just go on forever.
Some pieces are as big as shuttle craft. Many are smaller, microscopic; most are mere molecules and atoms.
Scattered within this maelstrom, a few trillion atoms and molecules begin to slow down. It takes years, but eventually they stop and gradually reverse direction.
It will take decades, perhaps centuries, but, these atoms and molecules are destined for a rendezvous.
A reconstruction.
A gathering.
And on that day, evil will live again.
The End