STAR TREK/THE REIGN: HIVE MIND

Fan fiction Crossover by Lance Berry

CHAPTER 3: AND HERE…WE…GO!

Borg.

One small, simple word. Travis Rand hadn't thought much of it, until he and his crew had taken time out of the one hour and seventeen minute journey to Wolf 359 to sit down in the Enterprise's conference room and review Starfleet's records of this alien species, and what they were all about. Rand had fought a lot of different enemies in his life, and thought no species could ever match the Calvorians for sheer cold-bloodedness. Mara had even quipped that the name Borg "sounded Swedish".

The quips and light-hearted humor had come to an end immediately upon the tactical footage of the Enterprise's first encounter with the Borg, approximately two years earlier from when Rand and his people had been thrown into the Federation's universe.

As they watched the archive play out, Rand and his senior staff finally got their first glimpse of the malevolent trickster Q, as with a snap of his fingers, he displayed his seemingly godlike powers to send the starship hurtling some 7,000 light years across the galaxy into their first encounter with the Borg. That encounter had been terrible: eighteen crewmembers dead when the Borg cube carved out and stole a portion of the ship's primary saucer module, and the Enterprise—in spite of its marvelous weaponry which even Tholin had to admit, he somewhat admired—all but helpless. It was only through Q's "generosity" that the ship and its crew had been flung back into Federation space, away from the menace, but the damage had been done: the Borg were aware of their existence, and now they were here to claim their prize.

The second the file footage had completed, Captain Rand ordered Jamie and Tholin to get to work jerry-rigging whatever type of technological bridge they could between the Horizon's weaponry and shields with those in utilization by the Enterprise. "Maybe if we can give these Borg something unexpected to knock up against, we can figure out a way to stop them," Rand had told them. There were affirming nods from the senior staff as the conference ended, and all headed out to their new stations with no small amount of trepidation…all except Rand.

Travis Rand still didn't know if his unique circumstance was due to the genetic interfering with his bloodline by the Venseshi, or if it were just some fluke…but it appeared he had been born without the gene for fear. Through all his life—almost losing control of his DFC(Dogfighter Craft) and crashing during his Academy days, fighting the swifter, more powerful Calvorians in hand-to-hand combat, and onto his victory at the Jupiter Skirmish, he had never known true fear. He had seen it in others, he knew what the emotion looked like on their faces, how it hampered their movements…but never him. He had felt minute variations on it; anxiety, concern, perhaps a bit of worry…but never cold, hard fear or its cousin, outright terror. Even knowing what these Borg were capable of, he didn't feel anything more except the familiar tension and growling in his gut to jump into combat. Fearful to the Federation or not, to Travis Rand, the Borg were simply one more enemy to overcome.

"Now approaching Wolf 359," Bardo Va, the Tetelloran pilot on loan to UEF, announced calmly from his position at the ship's helm. The pale-skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed alien hailed from an entire Utopian race of exceptional fighter pilots, and he was the very best his species had to offer. Although Bardo's race preached peace, they had had their fair share of encounters with the Calvorian Alliance over the years, and were well aware that the galaxy was far from safe. One of their primary mantras when going into combat was "If we must kill…kill your enemy with love in your heart", meaning that no matter the conflict, its reasoning or its cause, mercy is to be shown, and one must end their enemy's life as swiftly and with as little suffering as possible.

"Tactical, scan ahead. Give me a reading on that battlefield," Rand ordered from the captain's chair. To his right sat Mara, checking ship's operations on the first officer's armrest console. Standing above and behind them at the tactical officer's console, Tholin leaned over it slightly as he replied, "Starfleet has engaged the Borg. From what I can tell, the encounter has not been going on more than thirty minutes. Two starships have been destroyed, with no life signs aboard…but their engine reactors haven't gone completely cold yet."

"Distance from the site?" Mara asked.

"Eighty thousand kilometers," Lieutenant Zahara Zukhoury answered swiftly from her position at navigation. The beautiful young Indian woman was the second best DFC pilot in UEF, right after Bardo.

"Helm, drop us out of warp," Rand ordered, readying himself. "Tholin, bring all shields up to full power. It's time to see what this baby can do."

Bardo and Tholin carried out their orders in precise unison, as they had dozens of times aboard the Horizon. Now, the Enterprise dropped to sublight speed, and the viewscreen came alive, revealing a scene out of some thrashing, waking nightmare: An immense Borg cube, moving serenely through space as if its crew had not a care in the world, almost casually swatting aside attacks from nearly 40 of Starfleet's best and most powerful ships.

There was some minor damage to the cube, Rand noted, but it certainly wasn't enough to make any important difference as a green Borg laser sliced into another starship, crippling it severely. Several small modules began tumbling outward from the damaged vessel.

"The ship is ejecting escape pods," Tholin informed them.

"Put me in touch with the one closest to us," Rand ordered.

Tholin tabbed a panel. "You're on."

"Enterprise to escape pods. We don't have time to take you on, but maneuver behind us. We'll cover for you until you get out-system."

"This is Lieutenant-Commander Benjamin Sisko," came a somewhat shaken voice over the speakers. "Is this Captain Picard--? We've got wounded aboard these pods--!"

"I say again, maneuver behind us," Rand said, skirting around the Picard issue. Obviously this Sisko had never met the man, and there was no reason to confuse him or anyone else. "Escape to out-system. We'll buy you time!"

A slight pause, then: "Acknowledged, Enterprise. Thank you. Sisko out."

As the channel closed, Rand clenched his fist as he focused solely on the cube, attempting to discern any weak spot thus far overlooked. He could find none. "Prepare to bring us in," he said grimly. Before Bardo could acknowledge, Tholin received an announcing beep on his console. "We're being hailed, sir. Admiral Hanson."

"On screen."

"Captain Rand, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Hanson said angrily as his face appeared on the central viewscreen. "I gave you strict orders to hold position where you were!"

Rand got to his feet, striding a couple steps forward as he answered, "With all respect, Admiral…neither you nor anyone else in this reality is my commanding officer. And the truth is, you need every ship available to take on the Borg. My crew and I know what we're doing, so give us some clearance, because we've brought a little something extra to the party!"

The bridge of Hanson's ship, the Liberator, shook violently as the admiral quickly considered his options. With a nod of acquiescence, he said, "Very well, Captain. Move in at point oh-three-one—"

"Captain!" Tholin said abruptly, cutting off Hanson. "The Borg cube has disengaged from the fleet and is heading directly towards us!"

"What--?!" Both Hanson and Rand exclaimed simultaneously. As Hanson checked the console on his armrest to confirm Tholin's readings, Rand immediately ordered the Calvorian officer to show him. Tholin worked his console quickly, changing the view from Hanson's face back to the Borg cube, which had indeed barreled past the fleet and was charging headlong toward the Enterprise. The cube abruptly slowed down, but it now filled the viewscreen, its size suddenly made all the more imposing.

"The Borg are hailing us," Tholin said.

Rand's eyes narrowed slightly. He and Mara shared a look of puzzlement mixed with apprehension, then Rand looked up at Tholin and nodded. As the tactical officer plied his console once more, the image on the viewscreen changed to that of a multi-tiered industrial-looking facility which seemed to stretch into infinity.

There was a pause, which for some reason Rand didn't expect. Then, a chorus of male voices spoke as one: "You are not Jean-Luc Picard. Jean-Luc Picard is the captain of the starship Enterprise, registry NCC-1701-D. Who are you?" Even though Rand was an atheist, he admitted to himself that he had never heard a voice as completely devoid of the minutest shreds of a soul as this one.

"I'm Captain Travis Rand. Do you know me?"

Another brief pause. They shouldn't know me, Rand thought. Any confusion on their part is an advantage to us. Finally the cold, indifferent voice replied, "There is no record of a Travis Rand in any portion of Starfleet or Federation archives known to us. Where is Jean-Luc Picard?"

"None of your damn business," Rand asserted. "I'm advising you to withdraw to your own territory. This is the only warning you get, so it would be in the best interest of the Collective's continued existence to heed it."

The bluff didn't work. The response came quicker this time: "Travis Rand. Captain of the starship Enterprise, registry NCC-1701-D. You will lower your shields and prepare to transport yourself aboard our vessel. If you do not cooperate, we will destroy your ship."

Rand heard the assertive beep from Tholin's console behind him. "The Borg are attempting to scan us," the Calvorian officer announced. "As Chief Hughes anticipated, their scans are sliding off our shield improvements. They cannot penetrate our hull."

"You will surrender yourself or we will destroy your ship," the voice insisted nonetheless. "Your defensive capabilities are unable to withstand us."

"Really?" Rand replied, allowing the barest hint of a sly smile to cross his lips. "You be sure to remind the devil you told me that, after I send you spiraling and screaming into hell." He turned to Tholin and made a cutting gesture. Tholin tabbed a panel. "Transmission ended."

Rand quickly strode back to the captain's chair and sat once more. "Bearing zero-zero-zero mark zero. Dead center, Tholin—fire the upgraded phasers!"

In the reality where Travis Rand and his crew came from, the Calvorian Alliance had weapons installed on their ships called masers—a particle beam consisting of a joined stream of matter and antimatter. Now, combining the technology of UEF's lasers—which, as La Forge had observed, were very nearly on a par with a Galaxy-class ship's phasers—with the Enterprise's own 24th Century weaponry, chief engineer Jamie Hughes had managed to develop a new emitting weapon far more powerful than any Calvorian beam.

The deadly deep red bolt of energy blasted forth from the Enterprise's forward phaser emitters, striking the Borg ship dead center and blasting a sizeable chunk out of the cube. On the bridge of the Liberator, Admiral Hanson gripped the arms of his chair in shock and leaned forward as he watched the Borg ship actually reel backward slightly from the impact. "Holy God!" he said, well aware that similar looks of astonishment had appeared on the faces of several of his crew. "What kind of weapon is that?" he wondered aloud.

"Sir, we're receiving a coded transmission from the Enterprise," the tactics officer said from the station behind him. "Technical schematics on how to reconfigure our weaponry by channeling power through the warp core and impulse EPS taps, using modified dilithium crystals and something called…charged antimatter?" the officer said in wonder. "It's sort of like the emitter blast Starfleet Defense coordinator Shelby had come up with, only more powerful. There's also details on how to reinforce our shields with a new type of emitter design Rand's chief engineer came up with. Captain Rand's transmission says it takes about twenty minutes to complete."

"Re-encrypt the transmission," Hanson ordered. "Send it to engineering, then the rest of the fleet. And tell all captains, I want their weapons reconfigured in ten minutes, tops." Hanson shook his head in amazement as the Borg ship shook again with another blast from the Enterprise. "Rand…if we make it out of this alive, I may just have to give you a starship of your own, after all."

"Switch it up, Tholin," Rand ordered sharply. "The Borg adapt quickly…we don't want to give them the chance to recover. Fire torpedoes!"

Tholin tabbed a panel, unleashing the pre-arranged firing sequence he had set up en route to Wolf 359. Six torpedoes—no longer truly photonic, as they contained packets of charged antimatter(antimatter combined with several exotic energies, locked into a millisecond rotating positive-negative matter charge designed to inflict maximum damage upon contact) manufactured on the fly aboard ship—shot forward from the Enterprise's launch tube and screamed their way through the void, soaring unerringly toward their target. They scattered, heading for different points on the vessel, and impacted two to the center, and one to each of the cube's four corners, generating spectacular explosions within the eternal night of space.

"The cube's power emissions are down nearly thirty percent," Mara announced as she checked readings on her command chair's arm console. "The Borg are attempting to regenerate, but I estimate it's not as fast as they usually would."

Rand nodded in affirmation. "Tholin—the starships that are damaged…have their cores gone cold yet?"

"Negative," the Calvorian soldier replied. "There's still a considerable amount of energy left within them."

Rand checked coordinates on his armrest. "Bardo, Zahara--come about on heading zero-three-nine by one-one eight. Rand to engineering!"

"Chief Hughes here," the response came back swiftly over the ODN.

"Jamie, we're going to need a tractor beam. It's going to be snaring an entire starship hull. Can you manage?"

"This ship and I understand each other now, Captain. We're ready when you are."

"Standby then," Rand ordered, then checked coordinates again. "We're heading for the wreck of the Melbourne, Bardo. Fifteen hundred kilometers in proximity. Tholin as we pass it, snag it with the tractor beam."

Both officers responded affirmatively, and Bardo's fingers danced across the helm console. The Enterprise dove downward at a steep angle, headed for the drifting hulk of what used to be the Melbourne. As the flagship began its pass, a tractor beam shot out, ensnaring the ruined ship and the Galaxy-class engines strained momentarily under the added weight. They quickly regained however, and the Enterprise came about once more, heading for the Borg cube, which began firing its lasers at the starship.

The Enterprise bridge shuddered slightly under the impact from the Borg lasers against its shields. Rand glanced upward at Tholin. "The Borg were unprepared for our new magnetic repulsion shields, which now act as a second cover over those of the Enterprise. Their lasers are sliding off."

Rand nodded in satisfaction, then turned forward again as Bardo announced, "Coming up on optimum drop point, Captain!"

Rand watched a moment as the Borg cube began to swing by on the viewscreen, when in reality it was the Enterprise that was passing by it. "Tholin, release tractor beam," the Captain ordered. "Bardo, come about on one-five-two by one-three-eight!"

Bardo's fingers flew across the console with a practiced elegance as on the viewscreen, the stars swung by wildly until the cube was visible once more, with the wrecked hull of the Melbourne soaring toward it.

"Fire!" Rand shouted.

The reconfigured phasers shot forward from the Enterprise once again, this time directed toward the Melbourne's engine core. The beam cut through the hull and directly into the matter/antimatter reaction chamber, breaking the seals separating the two. Before the Borg could realize what was going on and react, the Melbourne exploded with the intensity of a small nova nearly right up against their hull—breaking through the Borg shields and creating yet another gaping hole upon the vessel's outer shell.

"Borg energy emissions are down to sixty-two percent capacity," the Liberator's tactical officer marveled as he informed Admiral Hanson.

"I'm beginning to like this Rand fellow more and more," Hanson said aloud, although more to himself. He heard the beep from the tactical station behind him, and cocked an ear toward it as the officer announced, "Admiral, engineering confirms they've got the reconfigured weapon in place. The majority of other ships in the fleet report same."

"Then let's give the Borg a taste of something new: fear."

Rand watched in satisfaction as on the Enterprise's viewscreen, the other starships began opening fire with the improved phasers Jamie had engineered. The Borg cube reeled from blow after blow, as more cracks and fissures began forming on its hull. But the captain felt his heart drop to his gut as one final blast from the starship Princeton abruptly ricocheted off a forcefield that had suddenly appeared around the cube.

"Shit," Rand hissed tersely. "They've adapted."

Not only adapted, however…the Borg's attack became renewed, more aggressive. The majority of starships had rushed to implement Tholin's weapons reconfiguration, but had not had time to adjust their shields accordingly. Lasers from the Borg cube began ripping through ship after ship, tearing through their standard shields like wet tissue paper, as the cube began making a path directly for the Enterprise once more.

Rand repeated his maneuver of swinging by a wrecked ship, the tractor beam this time grabbing hold of the Tolstoy. But instead of pushing it toward the Borg ship, Rand had the Enterprise maneuver the dead hulk in between themselves and the cube, which was swatting starships aside, ruthlessly cutting off hundreds of lives aboard them, as if they were little more than bothersome gnats.

A Borg laser smashed through the Tolstoy, turning it into millions of tiny bits of spinning debris, and then a green beam emanated forward, brutally shaking the Enterprise as it latched onto it.

"Tractor beam!" Tholin announced, then said as he checked his readings, "It's draining power from both types of shields we have in place! Ninety percent…eighty…sixty!" the Calvorian stated in amazement. "Magnetic repulsion is gone! The Enterprise's standard shields are being drained now. Eighty…seventy-one…"

"What can we do?" Mara asked as she turned toward Rand, an intense fear in her eyes that she was failing to get under control.

Rand tabbed a panel on his armchair console. "Rand to all hands! Every crewmember is to arm themselves with phasers and prepare to be boarded! Set your weapons to the high EM spectrum, and shoot to kill! No exceptions!" He shut off the comm and pointed at the screen. "Tholin, can we shut down that tractor beam?"

"It is in a decentralized location, making computer targeting difficult, but I'll try!" With that, the Calvorian tabbed panels on his console, attempting to get an accurate lock. On the viewscreen, the improved phasers shot forward, striking a point near what looked like the emitting spot for the tractor beam, but instead only took out a portion of the hull.

"Shields are down to forty-three percent…twenty-four," Mara counted down grimly as she took hold of a phaser which slid from a panel within her chair, then glanced at Rand. "Gee, think the Borg are eager to meet us, or what?" She quipped in gallows humor, then returned to the death-knell as she announced, "Sixteen percent…fourteen…"

Tholin tabbed another panel. On the viewscreen, the reconfigured phasers shot out again, this time impacting squarely where the tractor beam was coming from. There was a dull explosion, and the tractor beam shut off. "Tractor beam down," Tholin announced proudly.

"Too late," Mara exclaimed. "Shields are gone!"

And no sooner had Mara Christenson uttered those words, than it seemed the statement had willed the Borg into existence aboard the Enterprise bridge. Green energy coalesced into several Borg drones, placed at strategic points near the helm, navigation, security, Ops and next to the lift doors, cutting off all escape.

Zahara couldn't help it; she had never seen such an off-putting creature in her life, and she screamed before she could stop herself. The Borg drone turned toward her, a targeting laser in an eye sensor focusing directly on her as its hand reached out…

"Don't let them touch you!" Rand shouted as he stood and aimed his phaser, letting loose with one single deadly shot which struck the Borg directly in its head, blasting it apart. The war outside between Starfleet and the Borg cube was suddenly forgotten as the sounds of phaser fire filled the bridge. Bardo took out one Borg soldier, Mara another.

Tholin however, preferred the direct approach. He set his phaser down on the security console and extended his knife-sharp teeth and fingernails to their full one-inch length. To any other species the Calvorian had faced, it would have given them pause to reconsider…yet the Borg drone advanced, heedless of the danger. Tholin surged forward, grabbing the arm the drone had extended toward him, intent on injecting him with its nano-distribution tubes. He held the soldier's arm in one hand and brought his other talons sharply downward, ripping flesh and circuitry from the arm, nearly shearing the limb halfway off. The soldier shuddered in shock, and Tholin took advantage of the drone's sudden uncertainty to lunge forward, snagging its throat in his teeth. Tholin bit down sharply and pulled back, ripping the drone's throat out. It made a type of gurgling sound—perhaps the first time in ages it had ever attempted to use its larynx—and fell backward to the floor, dead. Tholin spat the piece of oddly bloodless meat out onto the drone's chest. "So fierce," he said derisively.

"Tholin!"

Tholin turned to look down at Captain Rand, who was shaking his head reprovingly. The black male held up a phaser and pointed to it meaningfully, and Tholin nodded in reluctant understanding.

All around them were dead Borg drones, with Zahara being held in the arms of her lover, Bardo Va, for some support. The crew only had a moment's peace however, before that odd sound of teleportation occurred again, and more Borg appeared—only this time, according to Tholin's quick accounting, there were at least fourteen of them!

This time Tholin didn't hesitate in snatching up his phaser and targeting the nearest drone. Only when he fired, the beam was absorbed harmlessly by the impregnable shield that had jumped up around the drone. "Weapons are useless!" Tholin shouted to them, before he felt an odd pinching at the back of his neck. He whirled around, backhanding the drone that had stung him, breaking its neck with his superior strength…but even as the soldier fell dead to the floor, a queasiness had overtaken Tholin and he fell to his knees, suddenly struggling to retain control of his own body. He glanced down at the railway opening of the tactical console to see the other members of his crew firing and finding their phasers now equally worthless…but when he looked upon the humans and Tetelloran he had been serving with for years, it was as if he didn't know them.

I am the Borg, a beautifully seductive voice called to Tholin within his head. Your physiology will adapt to service me, Toleen of Augara. Yes, I know who you are now. Your true name, hindered and misused by an alien tongue, is as unhidden from me now as the fact that you come from another universe I had never dreamt existed. But I thank you, Toleen, for your knowledge has given the Borg new worlds to seek out, to assimilate, to make one with our own harmonious Collective…

And that thought, that terrible knowledge that he had surrendered to the enemy, made Tholin groan in agony and defeat as he fell hard to the deck, his eyes closing as he felt something cold and alien slither beneath his bronze skin…

Travis Rand saw his ally fall, and could scarcely believe it. But as he sensed motion behind him, he pushed the distraction out of his mind and spun around, barely managing to catch the wrist of the Borg soldier that had advanced upon him. With a cry of rage, the captain shoved his fist hard into the center of the Borg's elbow, shattering it in a shower of sparks. Like the one Tholin had killed earlier, this one was unprepared for such a shocking physical attack and shuddered in surprise. Rand glanced to his side. "Mara, duck!" He yelled and spun the drone around, using its own weight against it as he tossed it into the Borg soldier that had been approaching his first officer. The two fell to the floor like dead weight as Mara scrambled out of the way.

"Zahara, no!" Bardo cried, making Rand and Mara turn just in time to see another Borg inject Zahara with its distribution tubes. The young Indian woman, more fighter pilot than trained hand-to-hand combatant, had frozen in fear at the imposing Borg menace, allowing one of the drones to get the drop on her. As her eyes glazed over and she fell, Bardo leapt across the few feet between him and her attacker, tackling the Borg to the floor. Before it could raise an arm to defend itself, Bardo chopped it across the neck, making its mouth go agape as its air supply was shorted, then quickly snapped its neck. Bardo then turned to Zahara and froze in shock as the veins on her face and neck distended as nano-probes wormed their way through her bloodstream, rewriting her DNA and consciousness. Soon, she would be nothing more than a part of the Borg uni-mind.

Another Borg advanced upon Mara. She high-kicked its nose up into its brain, and it dropped to the floor. "Retreat to engineering!" Rand ordered, and turned only to find more Borg blocking his path. Rand dropped and spun around, swiping his leg out to sweep the first soldier's feet out from under it. The drone toppled backward into two of its fellows, the trio falling down in a tangle of prosthetics and cybernetic attachments. Rand heard Mara cry out, and turned too late, to see her slump backward into the first officer's chair, her skin shifting as nano-probes crawled beneath it. The captain was filled with rage, and in the split second of indecision where he was deciding whether to kill the Borg that had done this to her or head for the lift, one of the drones surprised him from behind. Rand felt the sting at the base of his neck and spun around, prepared to issue one last killing stroke—but it was Zahara standing before him, looking at him with a cold indifference as her distribution tubes retracted into her hand.

Even with the knowledge that it was now only Zahara's shell standing before him, Travis still couldn't bring himself to harm her. He stumbled backward, feeling his body go numb as he fell into the captain's chair beside Mara, who was already rising to her feet to begin her new life as a member of the Collective. Rand gripped the arms of his chair, struggling against the powerful will he felt trying to take control of his body; to stamp down every last personal memory he had into eternal darkness.

I am the Borg, a beautifully seductive voice called to him within his head.

With a massive shudder of his body, Travis Rand answered, Fuck you.

All at once, Rand bent his torso forward and threw up all over the floor in front of him. What came out was something that should never eject from a human's body; a type of black sludge, like pudding left in a dank corner under a refrigerator for months on end. He threw up again, and more came up. He fell to his knees, bracing himself against the floor with his hands and spewed another stream one more time. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and felt the voice flee from inside his skull…not exactly fearful, but more uncomprehending as to what had just happened to its intended new prize. Rand's vision cleared, and he looked up…

All the Borg drones had gone immobile. They were staring at him. And although their faces were passive, Rand could swear there was a type of unfathomable wonder within their eyes.

Aboard the Borg cube, in a hidden alcove, a four-sided holographic display cube serving as viewscreen turned slowly in front of the Borg Queen as her children's wonder was reflected in her eyes. She looked at this seemingly insignificant human, this Travis Rand, and suddenly knew with unflinching clarity that he was far from insignificant after all. She had gained wondrous insight into this new universe waiting to be assimilated by her species, but was astounded for the first time in her existence. No one—no being, in the entire history of the Borg—had resisted her will before. This was significant indeed.

"Him," she whispered, her voice drifting across the gulf of space to echo in the brains of all her children aboard the Enterprise. "He is precious. Do not hurt him, but he must be brought to me."

On the bridge of the Enterprise, the Borg drones—including Mara, Bardo, Zahara and all the others made part of the Collective—moved forward as one, arms outstretched like zombies in their goal to capture Rand. Travis had no idea what happened to him, or why he managed to reject the nano-probes when even Tholin hadn't been able to, but it was an experience he wasn't eager to repeat, one way or the other.

Rand turned around, jumped on the counselor's chair as a springboard and grabbed the underside of the tactical console, swinging through the small opening space next to the central pillar holding it up like a kid on a jungle gym. As he regained his balance, the Tholin-Borg moved toward him, arms outstretched. Rand had fought the Calvorian in hand-to-hand combat years ago, and although the Tholin-drone moved far slower, facing off against a being with a Calvorian's resiliency to pain was another experience the captain didn't wish to repeat. He spied Tholin's phaser, unintentionally discarded on the floor, and snatched it up quickly. Spinning on his heel, Travis raced for the lift, the doors barely managing to close behind him as three of the drones reached it.

"Engineering," Rand snapped at the ODN even as he began readjusting the phaser's settings, trying to find a higher EM level the Borg might not have been able to adjust to yet. The lift responded by swiftly diving between decks. Since taking command of the Enterprise, Rand had become familiar enough with its systems to know about the automatic saucer separation process. If he could get to engineering, seal off the upper decks, do an emergency separation, he and his crew might have a chance to regain a solid foothold in this battle.

If the Borg cube hasn't fully regenerated yet, he realized grimly.

Another thought came to him. "Rand to sickbay. Ben, are you—"

"Surrender, Travis," Ben's voice came back to him, but without any inflection, any hint of the great warmth, humor or openness he had known the doctor to possess from the first moment they met. "We are the Borg. Resistance is futile."

Travis' first impulse upon hearing the new emotionless nature of his old friend's voice was to slump against the lift wall in despair. Yet he did resist. Travis Rand had never walked away from a fight in his life, nor had he ever lost one. He was a survivor, through and through…he had faced hopeless situations before, and come out on top. This was just one more thing to overcome. "Computer, close channel," he ordered, but realized his voice did shake as he said it, if only a bit.

The lift finally came to a halt on deck 36, and Rand braced himself, phaser at the ready, as the doors slid apart. There was no one present, the coast appeared clear, but he could hear what sounded like a dull pounding. It was an odd sound, and for reasons the captain couldn't fathom, he likened it to someone slapping fish against a window.

Rand crept out of the lift on the balls of his feet, rechecking his phaser one last time, then peeked around the corner. There were at least a couple dozen Borg gathered around, the majority of them pounding against a forcefield that had been erected just before the room housing the warp core. Standing tiptoe, Rand was able to see several members of his crew huddling together fearfully. Some were wounded, all were armed with phasers…phasers which Rand assumed were now useless, otherwise they would have been firing them. At one of the control consoles behind the forcefield, Rand could just make out Jamie, hunched over it and tabbing in commands like crazy, her fingers flying across the console's controls with a dexterity even he didn't know she possessed. Glancing back at the Borg, he spotted two drones separate from the crowd, leaning over the engineering master control console, likewise tabbing in commands. Rand assessed instantly what was happening, and was suddenly uncertain whether he should risk interrupting Jamie.

With a light exhalation, Rand moved back to the lift and entered it. "Rand to Hughes," he whispered as the doors closed, hoping the ODN could hear him and that if Jamie were able to respond, the sound couldn't carry past the closed doors.

There was a moment's pause, then the young woman's trembling voice replied: "H-Hughes here. I can h-hear y-you, Captain. Travis…where are you?" There was such hopelessness, such dependency and despondency in her voice, it forced Rand to close his eyes a moment in empathy. Both of them being survivors of the New York Wastelands, he and Jamie had always shared a special connection, and he knew that Jamie idolized him to some degree, almost like a big brother. She was one of the smartest human beings that had ever lived, but that didn't make her immune to human emotions, including fear.

Rand opened his eyes. "I'm in turbolift four, Jamie. Right around the corner from engineering. I saw you, behind the forcefield. What's the situation?"

The captain could hear Jamie's fingers pounding furiously at the command tabs as she replied, "There are only about a dozen of us left here. I managed to seal us off from the Borg, using a multi-fractal encryption code for the shield command, but they're…they're fighting against it, Travis!" She stopped speaking a moment, and her sobs carried across the com-line, though she still tabbed commands into the console. It took Jamie a moment to get herself under control, then she continued, "There are…there are two of them, each working the code at opposite ends. I'm reentering more codes into the system, but I'm…I'm running out of ideas and…oh, God, Travis! They got Cianna! She was down here, trying to help, and they—they—"

Rand frowned. Cianna Sito, a native of the PanAsian Provinces and a recent addition to the Horizon's roster, was Jamie's girlfriend. They had only been dating a few short weeks, but anyone could see they were already madly in love.

"I—I'm sorry, Jamie," Rand said honestly. "You've got to hold it together though. We need to figure out how we can retake this deck, then help the others. I've got a plan, but—"

"THERE ARE NO OTHERS!" Jamie exploded over the com-line, and Rand heard her pound her fist on the console, then stop tabbing in commands. "I've done a scan of all decks. The Borg have overrun the ship! This deck, you, me, the handful with me—we're all that's left!"

The phaser almost slipped from Rand's hand before he managed to grip it again firmly as he recoiled from the shock of the intel Jamie had just lain on him. The ODN gave off a beep. "Please state floor destination."

"Hold position," Rand said sharply. His mind whirled…there had to be a way out of this, there had to be--! "Jamie," he managed after a moment. "Just keep up with your encryption code. Have the others reset their weapons to the highest EM levels they can. I'm coming out."

The last three words made Jamie stop sobbing. It was an abysmal situation they were in, but hearing Travis say those words—I'm coming out—insanely gave her some type of hope. She had known Travis Rand ever since he had come aboard the Horizon as a helmsman, and she knew he had a penchant for pulling miracles out of thin air. The Jupiter Skirmish had proven that. She had no idea what he could spring this time, but she managed to will herself together…for him. "O-okay…" she answered.

In the turbolift, Rand exhaled heavily, taking several deep breaths and expelling them, bracing himself. He stepped forward, and the doors opened. The dull pounding still resounded from around the corner, but there were no Borg in his immediate line of sight. He tiptoed forward once more, then peeked around the corner. The image was exactly the same as before: Two Borg working the master control console, while the others attempted to wear down the forcefield with Jamie and the others behind it.

Rand chose his target: the Borg on the right side of the console. He aimed carefully and fired, striking the Borg at the base of the throat, blowing sparks out of his body. The Borg opposite him turned his head rapidly and caught sight of Rand, who was charging forward, firing again. The phaser bolt was repelled by a force-screen this time, and the Borg turned fully now, ready for him.

Or so it thought. While at the Academy in his own universe, Rand had become an avid student of Jeet Kune Do, the fighting style invented by Bruce Lee, the greatest human fighter who had ever lived. It was Rand's devotion to the art which enabled him to beat three far stronger Calvorians in his lifetime, and it had to aid him now, for all their sakes. The Borg began swinging its arm—which was enabled with a very deadly-looking pincer prosthetic—at him, but Rand ducked under it, came up and grabbed the Borg at the shoulder and side of its head. Twisting his feet against the Borg's own, Rand shoved it off balance and brought its skull crashing down upon the master control console. With one good tug, Rand broke its neck and let the body fall limply to the floor.

The other Borg—all of them—turned away from Jamie's erected forcefield as one, that task abandoned as their eyes focused on nothing else but Rand. Rand took off his black uniform jacket, throwing it to the ground in order to give himself as much leeway for speed as possible. As the Borg approached, Rand deflected a blow from one and grabbed its chin, pushing it backward even as he twisted its ankle, sending it falling back headfirst to the floor. He kicked another hard in the chest, sending the bulky automaton crashing into several of its fellows. A high roundhouse kick broke the neck of another.

Yet while the Borg were slow, there were just too many of them. They surrounded Travis, and while he managed to push one away, another injected him in the neck with their nano-tubes. He felt the wave of nausea surge over him again as he spun around and crushed that Borg's windpipe with a single blow. But then another moved forward, shooting nano-probes into his arm, through his sleeve. Rand whirled around and grabbed it by the arm, but had to let go as he doubled over and began to throw up the probes once more. The Borg swarmed over him like locusts devouring the body of a larger wounded insect, and began tagging him all over, shooting stream after stream of nano-probes into his body.

"TRAVIS!!" Jamie screamed, and Rand could hear her forcefield lower, followed by the sounds of phaser fire as his crewmen rushed forward, trying their best to cut through the drones encircling him. The phaser fire didn't last long however, as the enemy quickly adapted to all the various EM pulses sent at them. There were two final things Travis heard as he began to lose consciousness. First came Jamie's scream as he fell to his knees. Then, as his head hit the floor, that malevolently sensual voice again.

Welcome, it said, as Travis closed his eyes and oblivion claimed him…