This chapter is hereby dedicated in memory of Carrie Fisher. May the Force be with you.
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Chapter Four: The Fault In Perfection
Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin was dead.
In an ironic twist of fate, he had died the same way Anakin Skywalker had; taken apart and rebuilt into something less human, casting off his old identity as weak and imperfect. But whereas Vader had no choice when it had come to donning his infamous mobile coffin, Tarkin had willingly subjected himself to his fate.
Where Tarkin died, Locutus was born.
As his consciousness melded with that of his Queen and the entirety of her Collective, he immersed himself in the thousands of years' worth of technological advancements and experience the Borg possessed in their archives. And as he joined the Collective mind as its new King, he saw the noble pursuit of perfection. He saw where they were unstoppable and where they fell short.
Vader was nothing. The Emperor was nothing. The Empire itself was nothing.
All of them were raw materials waiting to be exploited.
He willingly surrendered every access code in the Death Star's databanks, pouring even more knowledge into the hivemind. And as they perfected him, he perfected them in turn.
"This is truly perfection," Locutus purred, allowing the newly-installed Borg circuitry to acclimate to his body. "So much knowledge and power…and yet there are ways to perfect ourselves further."
"How do you suggest we proceed?" the Borg Queen replied, pacing around him with that look of hunger in her eyes, knowing the answer but wanting him to speak it aloud.
"The power of our vessels is unmatched by any single vessel in the whole of this galaxy," Locutus drawled. "But in ground operations and boarding tactics, there is room for…improvement."
Silently, he offered his tactical insight to the Collective, which analyzed his reasoning, strategy, and experiences down to the last minute detail, all in the time it took for a single breath to escape his paling lips. The Queen smiled. At long last, the Borg had what they had lacked since the dawn of their existence; a human insight that could help them understand the nuances, strengths, and of course weaknesses, of individuality.
Preliminary combat simulations predict that 87 percent of all attempted surface invasions would be repelled at our current strength and technological progress. Chance of assimilating Galaxy 002 with current resources: 12 percent.
Locutus smirked. "The engineers we have recently assimilated will be useful in rectifying this."
Clone Wars databanks accessed. Assessing all relevant technologies for possible advancements and upgrades…relevant technologies found. Confederacy of Independent Systems primarily utilized automated assault drones to engage enemy forces. Adding data to processing nodes…analyzing compatibility of Separatist and Collective technologies…schematics constructed. Spider drones, Class 1, Class 2…modifications of Separatist Spider Droids…Heavy Assault Platform…purpose: tank unit, ground troops transport…Mobile Torpedo Launcher, modification of Separatist Hailfire Droid…Fighter drones…purpose: anti-snubfighter unit…Carrier drone…purpose: transport of fighter drone complement into heavily-contested areas…Gunship drones, Class 1, Class 2…modifications of Separatist Droid Gunships…replace blaster cannons with disruptors and shield inverters…all automated assault drones will be equipped with Borg shielding…begin construction upon assimilation of necessary resources on Alderaan…
Locutus quirked an eyebrow as a particular bit of information made itself known to him.
"The method you used to reach our galaxy…can it be replicated? We require reinforcements."
The Queen agreed with this, and Locutus heard her voice join the Collective's, bending it to her will as an order was given.
Halt dismantling order for Death Star superlaser. Begin altering superlaser to instead fire a large-scale singularity generator to Galaxy 001. Estimated time before modifications are complete: 4 days, 13 hours…
XXXXXX
Imperial Palace, Coruscant…
Sheev Palpatine, First Emperor of the Known Galaxy, sat in his personal chambers, deep in a meditative trance, seeking knowledge and foresight in the power of the Dark Side of the Force.
Massive black cubes dropped out of warp all around Imperial Center, catching the Home Defense Fleet entirely off-guard. Star Destroyers crumbled with startling speed underneath the staggering firepower of the Borg. Seven Victory-class Star Destroyers, two Interdictors, and several Golan battlestations was a formidable-enough force to dissuade a Rebel attack on the capital, but the hostile alien armada made short work of all of it before moving on to the planet, scanning the shield before unleashing a barrage of missiles that phased right through the planetary shielding as though it weren't even there, knocking out all of the shield generators in rapid succession.
He saw thousands of humanoid lifeforms strangely-reminiscent of the Iskalloni aliens from the Unknown Regions appear all over the palace, overwhelming the Stormtroopers and Red Guards thanks to some sort of shield that protected them from blasterfire.
Then, they came for him.
Palpatine forced himself out of his trance at the knowledge he had gained from his foresight. The aliens were headed straight for Coruscant. Straight for him. And if nothing was done, they would tear through the defense fleet like it was nothing. And then his Empire would fall.
And there was no way Darth Sidious was going to let that happen.
The Galaxy was his, and his alone. And no Rebel Alliance or Borg Collective was going to change that. Not on his watch.
Palpatine activated a comlink built into the arm of his chair. "Isard, send out an Imperial order. All ships within a day's hyperspace jump of Imperial Center are to join the Home Defense Fleet at once. An enemy force is on its way to attack the heart of the Empire."
He didn't wait for Ysanne Isard to acknowledge the order before deactivating the link. Isard was certainly useful, a capable commander and one of his best field agents in Imperial Intelligence. She was also completely infatuated with him. Though the Emperor scoffed at the very idea of love, it was an effective way to ensure her loyalty.
Still, he had to prepare. The Borg were coming. And he intended to win the confrontation when they arrived. And before that, he needed to contact Vader.
XXXXXX
Coronet City, Corellia…
On top of the main administrative building, an Alderaanian yacht touched down, followed shortly by an Imperial shuttle. It took several minutes for both vessels to fully power down, while countless other Alderaan refugee ships found other places to park and get processed. Soon enough both vessels extended their catwalks, and from the yacht came Bail Organa, flanked by two guardsmen, who looked terrified at the prospect of meeting Darth Vader in the flesh. Fearing for his wife, Bail had ordered her to stay inside until Vader was no longer around.
Bail watched with bated breath as the Imperial shuttle's door finally opened. His breath hitched as he watched the familiar black-armored frame of the Sith Lord descend the walkway, his respirator announcing his presence.
"FATHER!"
Bail jolted as someone in white ran past Vader's hulking form towards him, and he cried out as Leia embraced him.
"Leia! Oh, Leia, I was so worried!" Bail cried, hugging and kissing his adopted daughter before inspecting her. "Are you alright? Did he hurt you in any way?"
"No, no I'm fine," Leia answered, shaking her head fervently. "Where's Mother?"
"She's inside the yacht," Bail said. "Oh, thank goodness you're alright."
"Organa," came the sudden baritone of Vader as he strode up to them. "Inside my shuttle is a prisoner, one who may have valuable information about our shared enemy. I suggest you have your men take him to a holding cell until I can interrogate him."
Bail gulped before nodding to his guards, who uncertainly went into the shuttle and soon came out with the unconscious Borg drone hanging limply between them. "Take him to the Corellian authorities and have him put in a cell."
"Yessir," one of the guards said as he and his companion left with the drone.
Bail then turned towards Vader. "I want to be there for the interrogation as well."
"Your presence will not be necessary, Viceroy," Vader intoned with an edge to his voice.
"The Borg are a threat to the whole of this galaxy, Lord Vader," Organa argued. "I need to know as much as anyone else about what we're dealing with!"
"You want to oversee the interrogation on behalf of the Rebel Alliance," Vader cut in sharply, and Bail flinched ever so slightly. "I know you are a member of the Rebellion, Viceroy. The only reason I have not had you imprisoned yet is because we have bigger fish to fry."
"The only reason I am not imprisoned yet is because you and that snake Tarkin were planning to kill me instead, along with the entire population of Alderaan," Organa retorted hotly. "I'm no more a fool than you, Vader. If not for our new 'friends', I would be dead right now, and you know it."
Leia's eyes widened in mounting horror, knowing that both her fathers were known for their hot tempers, and that the situation between them was escalating quickly. But before she could speak in Bail's defense, Vader suddenly tilted his head upwards as a Corellian freighter approached their landing area, and he said in a tone laced with bitterness, "It seems more company is to be had."
Vader, Bail, and Leia watched as the freighter touched down in the last available space and powered down its engines. Soon enough the hatch opened, and Vader's respirator let out an audible hiss as he saw the first person descend the ramp. Clad in his old Jedi robes, his hood pulled over his head, Obi-Wan Kenobi greeted with a hint of age and sadness, "Hello, Anakin."
Vader looked upon his former Master with a hint of surprise. It had only been nineteen years, and yet Obi-Wan's face was lined with wrinkles and his hair had gone grey.
The years have been no kinder to him than to me, Vader thought for a moment before he pointed at the Jedi and growled, "You know that name no longer holds meaning for me, old man."
Obi-Wan merely shook his head. "Some time ago, I would have believed that. But now I'm inclined to believe otherwise, not least of which is because of your legacy."
With that, someone else descended the ramp, and Vader could feel the powerful Force presence surrounding the young man descending the ramp alongside another dark-haired human and a towering Wookiee. Vader's breath hitched; the sand-blonde hair was most certainly his, but his demeanor, his eyes…they were more like hers.
His son. This was his son.
Vader noted the lightsaber strapped to Luke's side, recognizing the handle as his own. All of a sudden, he could feel countless emotions flowing through him, things he had forgotten, things he thought he could no longer feel. This boy…the Princess standing beside him…they were his legacy. They were a part of him, and he them. For the first time in his life, Darth Vader felt the instinctual, protective urges of fatherhood.
Realizing what was happening, Vader buried it all behind walls of bitter memories and hatred. Love was not the way of the Sith. Love made him weak; Anakin had proven that.
He did not notice the saddened faces of his son and former mentor as they felt it all through the Force. But it proved something to them both; buried deep, deep within the rage and resentment of Vader, Anakin Skywalker still lived.
"We have a great deal to discuss, old man," Vader said curtly. "But it shall have to wait. I have a prisoner to interrogate who may have valuable information on the Borg."
Without another word, Vader swept past them and left, Bail resolutely following behind, leaving Leia alone with Kenobi and his entourage. A few moments later, Breha Organa strode out of the yacht, her arms outstretched. "Leia!"
"Mother!" Leia cried as they embraced.
Soon they parted, and Breha noticed the presence of Kenobi and the rather awkward entourage standing behind them. "Master Kenobi, I'm honored to see you again. It's been many years."
Kenobi inclined his head in greeting. "It seems time has been kinder to you than to I, milady."
Obi-Wan seemed to notice the smuggler fidgeting slightly behind him and then added, "My apologies, but we hired the services of Captain Solo here to reach our destination, and we promised him payment."
Attention was then drawn to Han as the smuggler nodded his head awkwardly. "Your Highnesses."
"Thank you for delivering General Kenobi to us, Captain," Breha said. "Whatever your price, I accept."
"Thank you," Han gratefully replied. "I just hope you can pay it soon. I…kinda owe a huge debt to Jabba the Hutt that I wanna get off my back before he decides to put a price on my head."
Breha pursed her lips bitterly. "Yes, we are quite familiar with Jabba's…activities, Captain. I will be certain to expedite the delivery of your payment."
Han breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that he would no longer have that black mark on his record. "This freighter…" Breha abruptly observed. "Are you Corellian, by chance?"
Han smiled. "Sure am. This is my hometown, actually."
Breha smiled back. "Perhaps after I've had your payment sent to Jabba, we could requisition you as a guide. My husband and I could use your services, especially after the Empire seized my husband's main transport."
Han managed a sheepish chuckle. "Thanks, Your Majesty. I'm a smuggler by trade, but I'm honestly done with dealing with the likes of Jabba on a regular basis. I'll give your offer some thought."
With that settled, Breha turned her attention to the waiting Kenobi. "Care to join me, Master Kenobi? There's a lot to discuss."
"More than what I imagine either of us had planned for, milady," Obi-Wan mirthlessly replied.
"Leia, dear, will you be alright on your own?" Breha asked.
Leia opened her mouth to reply, when Luke suddenly answered over her, "She won't be on her own. I'll be with her, ma'am."
Breha quirked an eyebrow at this before realization set in. Turning to Kenobi, she whispered, "Is he…?"
"Yes," Kenobi answered just as quietly. "Anakin's son. And I'm afraid he knows."
Breha wordlessly nodded before she said, "Alright, I'll leave you two alone, then. I feel the two of you have some things of your own to discuss."
With that, Breha and Obi-Wan departed to conduct their own business. It was at this moment that two more individuals descended from the Falcon, making their presence known.
"Oh, really, Artoo, don't you remember what Master Skywalker said? Stay on the ship! Oh, why don't you ever listen to me?" C-3PO griped at the little blue astromech twittering away at his side.
"Artoo!" Leia exclaimed. "You made it!"
"I found him and Threepio in a Jawa droid sale that came by our moisture farm," Luke helpfully explained. "That's how we knew to find Old Ben. We were also gonna rescue you, but…you know…"
Leia turned to face Luke, and took in the features of the young man. Now that she was aware that Vader was her father as well as Luke's, she could clearly tell plain as day now that a familial bond was forming between them.
"Hello, Luke," she softly greeted.
Luke blinked before he realized through the Force what was going on. "…you know, don't you?"
"Wait, hang on, know what?" Han interrupted, waving his hands.
"Princess Leia is my twin sister," Luke plainly responded, as if such an answer was obvious.
Han blinked, his jaw hanging loose before he snapped out of it, shaking his head. "Now wait a minute! It's hard enough to believe that your dear old dad is Darth kriffing Vader, but now you're telling me the Princess is your long-lost twin sister?!"
"I don't see how my family issues are any concern of yours, Captain," Leia coldly shot back, unimpressed by Han's tirade.
"Oh, excuse me, Your Highness," Han sneered. "I didn't mean to intrude on your family reunion. I'll just see myself off before Grandpa Palpatine decides to join in!"
Leia went red in the face as Han stalked off with Chewbacca in tow, while Luke struggled not to laugh. "He means well, really," Luke said.
Leia rolled her eyes. "Does Artoo still have the Death Star plans?"
R2-D2 beeped an affirmative.
"Good," Leia nodded. "We're going to need them more than ever now that the Empire has lost control of it to an even more dangerous force."
XXXXXX
The former drone awakened to a world of silence. His head swam, trying to make sense of the Collective's sudden absence. A part of him felt naked and afraid, but an older part of him was screaming in the joy of liberation.
That screaming was making his head hurt more.
He groaned as he put his remaining organic hand to his bald forehead as he slowly sat up. "Ugh…goddamn, that was a nightmare…" he muttered, his voice scratchy and gravelly from years of disuse. "Where am I…?"
"You are in Coronet City, on the planet of Corellia," a mechanical-sounding baritone voice answered back.
It was then that the drone was aware of the sound of mechanical breathing and he slowly looked up to see that he was in some sort of prison cell, the door sealed by some energy shield. Standing outside of it was a man dressed all in black, with a black cloak and an unsettling helmet to match. Next to the man was another person with dark skin, dark hair that was just starting to turn grey, and official-looking clothing.
"I'd ask for some Earl Grey tea, but I don't think my body could handle actual food just yet," the drone grumbled as he slowly stood, noting with displeasure the many Borg parts infesting his body.
"Perhaps after you've answered some questions, we may see fit to accommodate you," the dark-skinned man replied.
The drone heaved a sigh, something he had not done in years. "You want to ask me about the Borg, right?"
"You are correct," the black-armored figure said in that mechanical voice. "Your fellow Borg pose a grave threat to the stability of our galaxy, which is already suffering enough from civil war."
"Show some patience with an old man," the drone griped. "I've just come out of nine years as a Borg drone, thanks to tall, dark, and brooding over there."
"My name is Darth Vader," the armored man replied. "The man next to me is Viceroy Organa of Alderaan. And I suggest you show restraint with your cheek. You are currently a prisoner of the Galactic Empire unless I deem otherwise."
"Duly noted," the drone replied, scratching his forehead. "I suppose since you gave me your name, I should give you mine. Under the Borg, I was Four of Thirteen, Secondary Adjunct of Unimatrix 19. But before that, I was Admiral J.P. Hanson of the United Federation of Planets."
"The United Federation of Planets?" Organa repeated. "I've never heard of it."
"I would imagine not," Hanson replied. "The Borg come from a different galaxy."
"How did they get here?" Vader questioned.
"They opened up a quantum singularity, a wormhole between their galaxy and yours," Hanson explained. "It didn't stay open for long though, so they could only send a small taskforce through before it collapsed."
"What is their goal?" Organa asked.
Hanson's expression darkened. "The same one they've pursued for thousands of years in my home galaxy: assimilation. The Borg are obsessed with the idea of perfection, and they achieve this so-called perfection by forcibly assimilating and consuming any races with relevant biological and technological distinctions. The worst part is, the Borg think they're doing the rest of the galaxy a favor. They think we want this."
"And clearly centuries of conquering countless species that believed otherwise has not clued them in to the contrary," Vader mused in a tone that brooked a rather curious glance from Organa.
"Ah, how I've missed the beauty of sarcasm," Hanson sighed. "After nine years of having every other drone in the Collective in my head, it's nice to have a plain old conversation again."
"How did you become a drone?" Organa asked.
Hanson's expression darkened once more. "Ten years ago, a particular Federation starship, the Enterprise, was paid a visit by a recurring menace of theirs, an omnipotent and frankly quite childish being known simply as Q. I don't know why, but Q always had a strange fixation on Captain Picard. Anyways, Q apparently told them that he had been kicked out of the Q Continuum and wanted to join Captain Picard's crew. Picard, however, was understandably mistrusting of Q's intentions and refused his offer. In response, Q got angry, and with a snap of his fingers he catapulted the Enterprise some seven thousand light-years beyond Federation space in the space of a few seconds…right into the path of a Borg cube."
Vader and Organa were both astonished by such a display of power, and Vader silently hoped that this "Q" entity stayed far away from their galaxy.
"The cube tried to assimilate the Enterprise," Hanson continued, "and only by begging for Q's aid did they survive. The Enterprise was one of our finest ships, and she was no match for a Borg vessel. But despite that, the damage had already been done. The Borg were now aware of the Federation, and we knew they would be coming. A year later, they did. A single ship, the same one they encountered at J-25, entered Federation space and began attacking Federation outposts on their way to Earth. The Enterprise did their best to hold the Borg's attention while I gathered as many starships as I could, but they were overpowered, and the Borg captured and assimilated Picard, turning him into…Locutus."
Vader and Organa both noted the hesitant, bitter way he said that name, like it was associated with very bad memories.
"Because of Picard's assimilation, the Borg now knew everything he did about the Federation, its tactics, and its capabilities. Ultimately, my fleet confronted the cube at the system Wolf 359. Forty starships engaged that monster…and all but one were completely destroyed. The Borg didn't even try: we could not damage the vessel, but they ripped through our defenses like it was nothing. Those of us that survived were assimilated, including me. Some of us were then caught up in an old subroutine for when cubes received an influx of new drones that were not necessary for the vessel's current mission. We boarded a Borg sphere which then departed for Borg space deep in the Delta Quadrant. Though the cube was later destroyed just before it could commence with assimilating Earth, we were unable to savor victory thanks to our enslavement."
"How was it that they enslaved you?" Organa asked.
"The assimilation process begins with the insertion of nanoprobes into your bloodstream, transferred through tubules embedded in every drone's hand." For emphasis, he raised his organic hand, and his visitors watched as two silvery tubules snaked out of his knuckles, writhing for a moment before retreating back beneath his flesh. "The nanoprobes act much like a virus, taking over the body's natural functions as they replicate. The nanoprobes then create the preliminary implants that will shackle the victim to the hive mind. As you fall under the Collective's will, they take you apart. They take out one of your eyes and replace it with an ocular implant. Then they cut off an arm and replace it with an implement that will serve whatever function you're assigned to as a drone. And the whole time…you're conscious. You can feel it happening. You feel the agony as your eye is punctured, you feel the sawblade as it cuts through flesh and bone, and as much as you want to scream, and cry…you can't. Because you're already theirs."
Vader and Organa were both stunned into silence at the former Admiral's words, though for somewhat different reasons. For Vader, the way Admiral Hanson had described assimilation was eerily reminiscent of the seductive power of the Dark Side. The comparison chilled him to the bone.
"I don't want to see that happen again," Hanson continued to speak, pulling Vader out of his thoughts. "The Borg have caused enough havoc as it is just in my galaxy. I can't stand the idea of seeing them unleashed on yours."
"The Galactic Empire will not permit them to succeed," Vader declared. "Though their ships are powerful, and the Death Star is now in their possession, we have an entire galaxy's worth of warships to dedicate to the cause of eradicating them."
"How many ships do you have?" Hanson asked.
"Our fleet's strength stands at an average of twenty thousand warships, not including fighters and support craft."
"The Borg have millions of vessels just in their branch of our galaxy. Assimilation cubes, tactical vessels, scout spheres, probes…"
"It would seem your galaxy is bigger than our own," Organa observed.
Hanson nodded. "I would strongly suggest you gather every available ship you can and take the fight right to them before they dig themselves in. Because if they could open a way here…they could open a way back."
"…and summon reinforcements," Vader realized in horror.
Hanson straightened up and abruptly saluted. "I therefore have an offer."
"Go on," Vader prodded impatiently.
"If you agree not to press me for any information that could cause harm to the United Federation of Planets, I will tell you everything I know about the Borg, and how to combat them."
Vader scoffed. "I think the Emperor has conquered enough in his lifetime. Your terms are acceptable, Admiral Hanson."
Hanson coughed awkwardly. "With all due respect, Mister Vader…"
"Lord Vader will do."
"Very well then, Lord Vader. With all due respect, my ship was destroyed years ago. Starfleet Command probably thinks I'm dead, and I'm no longer in my galaxy. My admiralty has, quite frankly, expired."
Vader lifted a finger towards Hanson as he said, "Prove yourself in the coming war and I may change that."
"I think it's safe to say we can trust him," Organa noted. "Ensign, open the door."
Vader was about to take off when an Imperial officer he recognized as being part of Veers's garrison abruptly ran up to him, saluting as he declared, "Lord Vader, Colonel Veers has returned from his sortie against the hostile aliens and wishes to speak to you!"
"Tell him to meet me in the comm room," Vader ordered curtly, sweeping past the officer. "I must contact the Emperor on these developments."