As the ship limped back to Federation territory a certain kind of mood began to settle on the crew, one I was very familiar with. These people had believed they were best, brightest and toughest in their corner of the galaxy. Now, they had met something that didn't care about that and had casually demonstrated otherwise. It happens to Guard units often since during training we never say things like 'Well actually, everything else out there is better armed, better equipped and has horrifying mind powers to boot.' so it often comes as a shock. Which is where yours truly comes in.
The Federation at least understood Rule 1 of what to do with demoralised troops which was 'keep them busy and too occupied to dwell on what a pasting they just recieved'. Actually they seem to have their own set of rules. Nowhere in Federation regs does it reccomend decimation or the mass execution of a unit and simply starting again for example. For my part in all this I started a 'Chainswords for begginners class' since there was considerable interest and it kept people busy.
Preparations for facing the Borg also went apace as news of the threat was delivered. Ships were called off whatever esoteric mission they were on and rapidly assigned to fleets. Various allied worlds also volunteered ships since no-one wanted their planet turned into an oversized quarry. The Klingons in particular were especially keen and all too ready to provide fighting ships in anticipation of the coming battle. They were so enthusiastic that four days after leaving Simia Orichalcae we had aquired an honour guard of a Klingon Battlegroup.
"Your ship has been in a mighty battle against formidable adversaries. It would be remiss of us to not escort you back to your Starbase." said Admiral Gazon.
Like Worf he was a monster, very ork like in appearnace and guesture until he spoke. Unlike Worf this Klingon seemed to have a love of words and their use. Their uniforms were reminiscent of some form of ancient armour inset with bright colours and then decorated further with medals and other baubles of alien design. They seemed to stand out compared to the severe austerity of the Federation. We met with Gazon and his captains in one of the less damaged meeting rooms. It was like a meeting between two different parts of the Imperium, While technically friends everyone is aware of the 'technically' part.
"I am curious as to how you came to be here?" said Picard as the meeting began to close.
"An elegant tale Captain. My sire's holdings are on the border of the Empire, quite close to here and we had detected increased Romulan drive signatures in the area. My fleet was assembled to 'remind' the Romulans not to stray to close. One of our pickets, the N'Kree observed the battle and your departure. And now we are here." said Gazon.
"We are most welcome for your assistance." said Picard.
The meeting continued in much the same vein with many platitudes and how jolly good it was to have allies in times like this. Eventually it all wrapped up, for everyone else at least.
"I would like to see a demonstration of these new weapons of yours captain." said Gazon
"No problem, Mr Worf and Mr Cain can show you."
said Picard. The Klingons left.
"Try and find out what else they know Mr Worf." said Picard as we began to leave.
"You don't believe them? I assure you Captain that Admiral Gazon is a very honourable klingon." said Worf.
"I'm sure he is Worf. But just see if he knows anything else." said Picard.
"Yes. Captain." said Worf. We then left.
Worf cautioned me before we entered the holodeck.
"Be careful, these are klingons, do not offend them." said Worf.
"I'll keep that in mind." I said as we entered.
Inside were the Admiral and several other Klingons. Several of the others were dressed less garishly than their leaders. Gazon guestured to one of them.
"This is Major Jath, commander of my space marines."
I did a double take at that. While Jath was certainly an imposing brute he was nowhere near the scale of even a diminutive Astartes. I was to learn later what the word 'marine' actually entailed. Fortunately the Klingons took my confused look as one of awed respect. Jath nodded to me and bowed towards Worf.
"The weapon." Jath said with a Worf-like loquaciousness.
Worf gave the room a few commands and several chainswords appeared. Jath took one and then ran it through several of the holodecks exercises with the other warriors. They hacked, chopped and eviserated virtual opponents for about half an hour before pausing to report.
"Impressive. Brutal. Deadly. Most useful against those prone to fear like the Fe..., er the Ferengi, my Lord." said Jath. He shifted a bit.
"Anything else Major, I can see they are a very visceral weapon. However I also note you have some reservations. Please, speak freely." said Gazon.
"It has good shock value, but a simple monoblade will achieve as much. These weapons would need extra care, will require extra training and..." Jath paused again but Gazon waved him on. "I doubt the nobility will exchange the Bat'leth for one. Except as novelty." Jath said, looking at Worf.
"Still, it would be prudent to keep some on hand. 'Iq nuH laH not Daghaj." Jath finished, somewhat exhausted.
"Well, Worf it looks like you must content yourself with the honour of bringing the Klingon Empire a new enemy. And a formidable one at that." said Gazon. He then turned to me. "And you, how do you find our universe? From what I hear you would be more at home with us than the Federation eh?" the alien winked.
Again with the xenos being more human than the humans! Blasted place.
"I would not say no to a visit. Perhaps the next meeting could be dinner aboard your vessel." I said.
"Vaj jatlh! And very brave for a human, I accept. And you may bring your Federation companions too. Worf, you of course, are invited as well." said Gazon.
Gazon gave us both a brief bow and then he and his entourage left.
"You are indeed brave to dine with Klingons." said Worf who clapped me on the back, nearly winding me.
I wondered what I had gotten myself into.
I have dined with admirals and generals, I have had dinner with various inquisitors, some insane, some, not, I have almost been dinner for the elder and orks. I have complemented both neobarbs on their recent mastery of things like 'fire' and hivers on their ability to make 'resyc' palatable. Diplomacy at dinner is primarily the ability to get down anything presented to you that the auspex says is safe.
Dinner with Klingons is mild by comparison, and kind of fun, it being a 'live food' event. It reminded me more of inter-regimental dinners and so it was jarring to constantly realise that Kasteen and Broklaw were not here although it was a relief to know that Sula couldn't make matters worse. There was some sort of play, which consisted of shouting, daggers, shouting, witches, shouting, treachery and of course, more shouting.
Klingon dinner-wear is gaudy, colourful and sharp. It is considered impolite not to bring your best personal weapon with you. My chainsword was passed around for inspection and tested on various objects, tables, chairs, a statue and one unfortunate neighbor's leg. After the poor xeno was teleported to the medicae my weapon was handed back, carefully.
"Do not worry, no dinner is truly complete without a major injury." said Worf. I nodded in what I hoped was a sage manner while the Federation officers tried not to look too horrified.
"What was the play we saw." I said changing the subject.
"Ah, that was Mak'Bet a most fortuitous play. It is said that whenever the play is performed something dreadful will happen. The trick is, of course to make it happen to one's enemies. And speaking of enemies, what cunning plan do you have for our new foes, eh Captain." said Gazon.
"I have some ideas with which to propose to the admiralty, but I feel with the state the ship is in, my involvement will be merely advisory." said Picard.
"What! The Enterprise and it's Captain have been in every major battle the Federation has taken part in. It would be bad luck not to be there. It was said that you could not win if the Enterpise was present. But that was when we were enemies. Now we are friends. I am sure the Klingon Empire will require your presence at the battle." said Gazon.
"Our ship has suffered extensive damage.." began Picard.
"All superficial, or so our scans say. The Enterprise is unbowed and unbroken, it is still a formidable ship." said Gazon.
"Well, maybe we will be back to meet these Borg." said Picard.
The rest of the dinner wound up fairly uneventfully and we returned to the Enterprise.
The next day when I came to the bridge saw Picard talking with a woman on the main screen. She was a medical officer and seemed displeased at whatever it was Picard had just said.
"No, no, a thousand times no Captain." she said.
"Beverley, I must insist, these Borg..." said Picard.
"Are our enemies and a serious threat, I understand, Jean Luc. I've seen the recordings. But they are still thinking, reasoning beings. Biological warfare is against everything we stand for and I'm astonished I find myself reminding you of that. I will not authorise release of the Happiness Plague or any other contagion for that matter. Crusher out." she said and her imgae disappeared returning to a starfield streaking past.
"Well that could of gone better." said Picard. He turned to me. "Mr Cain. What would your Imperium do with a recalcitrant Medical Officer?"
"Well, there's shooting her and asking the next most senior officer the same question. But I prefer to think of something before it comes to that. Good medics are hard to come by." I said.
"And Beverley is one of the best. Dammit, she's right. Biological warfare is an obscenity, once we start making excuses for it, no matter how well intentioned we've opened the gates. The next enemy we excuse it for won't be as bad. And then there's the next time." said Picard.
"I have another communication from Starbase 10. It's the boy." said Worf.
"Put him on then." said Picard. The screen changed to reveal a young man. Back home he could be finishing basic training or getting his first commission in the Guard. Here, he was still a child.
"What do want Wesley?" said Picard. The young man recoiled.
"Uhh Captain, I saw the recordings of the Borg and wondered if the Bynars would be of any help." said Wesley.
"They may well be Wesley, but their homeworld is on the other side of the Federation." said Picard.
"There are some here, Captain. They are upgrading Starfleet computers." said Wesley. "I could talk to them if you want."
"Yes, do that. And tell them I want to see them when we reach the Starbase." said Picard.
A few more days saw us arrive at Starbase 10 and reunite with the rest of the Enterprise. We were almost instantly overwhelmed by inquisitive scientists and engineers of every description imaginable. There were also reunions between families and loved ones and then the inevitable services for the fallen. I hadn't known what to expect of this bizarre, free society (every crew member was a vollunteer) but the grieving process and ceremonies were brief and quiet affairs with a stoicism I've seen only amongst Cadians and Kreigsmen. Death was an acceptable risk to a Federation citizen who joined Starfleet. And if you wern't happy about that, well, there were literally a hundred other applicants who were.
Since there was nothing for me to do I took to exploring the greater environs that the Starbase offered. I half suspected Picard to assign a flunky to keep an eye on me but apparently they don't do that here either. Or he could of just been too stretched for flunkies. He did ask that I leave my new chainsword in my quarters. I decided to take it with me anyways and since I had aquired some status with ship security they didn't seem to mind when I took it with me out the airlock and onto the Starbase.
A Federation Starbase is a very different creature than their Starships. It is the focal point for all traffic in that area of the Federation. In addition to the Starfleet ships there are all manner or civilian ships, be they researchers, colonists, journalists, archeologists, diplomats and scientists. Alien ships were also present bringing with them traders although how they traded with people for whom 'money' was a thing from history books was a bit of a mystery. I guess they sold things to each other.
It was returning to the Enterprise one day that I ran into the Bynars and Wesley. Like ninety percent of the so-called xenos in the Federation they were a variation of humans. Purple skin, short stature and cybernetic implants do not an alien make. Another strangeness, the open and accepting Federation made a big thing of the slightest differences and while a proper Imperial subject is taught to hate the alien, our definition of 'human' so much more encompassing. One of life's little things.
My first shock was that the little men spoke the Mechaniacus secret language! I don't understand it but I'ld know that twittering anywhere. Were these some degenerate survivors of some cogboy experiment gone wrong?
Did I now have a chance of getting home that didn't rely on the whims of the Daemon Que?
And then there was my second shock, did I really want to go home? Despite the current crisis the Federation was simply the nicest place immaginable. Nobody got shot here for 'dereliction of duty', And no-one cared if you didn't want to be part of the military, mainly because they claimed they did not have one. I could, for instance move to some hospitable planet and run a bar or brothel and no-one would come after me unless they wanted what I had on offer. I later discovered that the Federation does not have prostitutes as such. There are people called Licensed Practical Sexuality Therapists and apparently they fill the same niche. There's a four year university course with postgraduate options. After learning that, I pretty much settled on the bar. Although I cant say the courses didn't tempt me.
After all, what did my home universe have to offer me? A messy and bloody death at the hands of one of the numerous horrors that pressed mankind on every side? A summary execution when the Imperium finally caught on as to who the real me was? To have my soul and very being enslaved to some malevolent overmind or daemon? Put that way the attractions it did offer seemed very poor indeed.
With all this going through my head I really wasn't paying attention to their plan.
"We need to do what?" I said. Despite my meanderings my ears had picked up the tell-tale signs of something brave, foolhardy and potentially suicidal being planned.
"All we need to do is get this processor block to a major Borg computing node and then it will shut them down." said Wesley. The Bynars around him chittered in agreement.
I was hardly surprised. Deliver the device into the heart of the enemy stronghold, past the teeth of their defences and usually into the lap of the head master nasty. Tyranids, Orks, Eldar, Necrons, it really doesn't matter the plan is always the same. I've often wondered why the people who come up with this plan are considered clever at all. I mean it's always the same.
"How do you plan to do that?" I said, as if I didn't have a fair idea already.
Wesley than went into his details of a Trojan Horse escapade. "We pack a shuttle with odd tech bits and the processor block and send it at the Borg. They pick up the shuttle and the crew sneak on board, find the computing node and then activate it. It can't fail."
"Just like in 'Attack Run'." At the blank stares I elaborated. "It's a holo-drama. How about we see how this plan of yours goes down with the captain."
Like almost every member of Starfleet Wesley seemed genuinely interested in who I was and where I came from. I answered or more precisely vaguely evaded most of his questions. The idea that certain things should be kept secret was an almost foriegn notion. Such as the next question.
"And how do you feel about the terminator genes?" he asked as innocently as he had about where I'ld been born, my favourite food and whether I had really shot fellow soldiers.
"I'm sure they suit those brave fellows just fine." I said.
"No, the terminators in you. Mom mentioned them." Wesley said.
"The what?"I had a vision of tiny Astartes in their heaviest armour prowling through my blood vessels like I was some giant bioship. I tried not to squirm.
Wesley attempted to explain. Genes are bits of your essence that make you, you. And Genestealers dont steal genes but add new ones that tell you to obey the hive or whatever. And terminator genes? They do what it says on the tin. They kill you. Well they sort of stop you from trying to stay alive but it's pretty much the same thing. Wesley tried to provide some good news.
"But they can be turned off if you take a supplement, and since that's just a glycoprotien it's no trouble to replicate. You could live to be five hundred, or a thousand. But I don't see why the gene is there in the first place." he said.
"How long?" I said.
"Oh, easily a thousand years. Of course that doesn't stop you being killed by all the things that seem to exist in your universe. Are there really giant living ships the size of cities?" said Wesley.
"Well, yes, but they are trying to kill you too." I said.
"Oh." said Wesley.
My natural lifespan was a thousand years. My deliberations on this were interupted because we had reached the Bridge. I scooted over to the security section and Wesley and the Bynars eaded for a computer terminal and began doing things to it. The crews attention was however on the picture of a senior Starfleet type laying down the law.
"for the Raman and Lexington to reach the Starbase and then proceed to Simia. Picard, you and the Enterprise are to coordinate and liase with our Klingon allies. We will then proceed to Simia and contain this new threat. Hoskins out." the figure said and then the screen returned to a picture of what was outside.
Picards expression was particuarly grim. "What do you think number one." he said.
"Well, if we're to believe Que a whole lot of of beings are going to die and we could lose our entire fleet." said Riker.
"Hmm, true." said Picard. "Well, ideas anybody." he said looking arround the room.
"I have an idea." said Wesley. For some reason most of the bridge crew groaned. This did not deter the young man and he again outlined his 'plan'.
"Well, that might work." said Picard "But our orders are to stay with the Klingons. How are we going to convince the Klingons to get to the battle site early?"
There was a brief pause and then the entire bridge burst into laughter. After he recovered Picard ordered the Enterprise to leave the Starbase and join the Klingon battlegroup.