Episode 10: Sector 001
Teaser
Three Federation fleets were gathered. Over three hundred ships, holding the strategic Witch Head Nebula. This was the very final line of defense. There was the Federation Seventh Fleet amassing in Sol, but, quiet frankly, if the line was broken, they'd be overrun.
Three Borg Cubes and seven Tactical Spheres sped towards the nebula. Ships powered weapons and shields were raised. This was the final Borg force in the Alpha Quadrant. There was simply no more Borg vessels left. Starfleet Intelligence had indicated that the assimilated worlds were not making vessels, and once they were cut off from reinforcements, Starfleet could go in and destroy them. President Mernala had made it quiet clear. The Borg threat was to be eliminated without mercy.
Too many had died. Picard could feel their deaths calling to him. The line had to be drawn. They needed to destroy the Borg. These borg cubes were the last of the first wave. The second would come soon. But not soon enough. They'd be able to shore up the defenses. Retake many of the worlds lost.
The Gent'eila had already proven to be valuable allies. As the Borg began to pass through the nebula, they didn't notice the Federation ship, who were hidden in a layer of sub and normal space. Ships moved until they had encircled the Borg ships, which had slowed down as they moved through the nebula.
The ships suddenly slipped out and before the Borg could even charge weapons, six were hit by energy weapons that caused massive bolts of electricity to rupture through the holes, exploding them. The last four, all spheres, made a determined push against what seemed to be the weakest part of the line. Plasma weapons fired, and several converged on a single ship. It tried to move out of the way but was badly damaged, and it began venting atmosphere. But, at that moment, another volley slammed into the Borg vessels, and they were one by one destroyed in massive waves of destruction.
Cheering rang out on the flagship of the Fourth Fleet, and Admiral Picard smiled and with a wave of his hand issued orders. "Check our status in all departments."
"The other fleets are powering down weapons and advanced shielding," Captain Data replied from his station.
"Chief Nog?" Picard called over the ship intercom.
"Yes Captain?" the Ferengi replied over from engineering.
"How's our ship handling the drain from the Gent'eila upgrades?" Picard asked. These newer upgrades had not yet been used and there was no way of telling how bad it was. Thus why everyone else was powering down.
"For the most part fine. A few minor fluctuations in the power grid, but nothing to be concerned about."
"Very good," Picard said, "I'll be in my-"
"We are the Borg. You will be annihilated."
Just then all around the nebula transwarp conduits opened and massive Borg spheres which looked three times as large and powerful slipped out. There must have been forty. But above and below the nebula more transwarp conduits opened and a hundred regular sized cubes slid out. And yet more opened, and nearly two hundred tactical spheres dropped out into normal space.
"Get the other ships reactivating their shielding and weapons!" Picard ordered.
But it was too late. At one time they all began to fire into the nebula.
And ships began to die.
Act 1
"So, the child returns." Stubbs looked in the dark room to the center, where the only light in the otherwise blackness appeared. Around it were huddled three beings. One short. One fat and one tall and skinny. The light made these beings even more bizarre. "What does the child want with us, we wonders?" the smallest one asked. "I need to change how this present is playing out," Stubbs said, walking slowly towards these beings. He was not intimidated by them. But he respected their abilities, for he had seen their power. "The die have been rolled and three skulls there were," the fat one reminded him. "Two must transpire as they were foretold." "But they aren't!" he replied, "Don't you see? Things are changing at a rate that don't suite the visions." The tallest one snorted. "Visions are only one interpretation of events. One cannot take the meaning literality." "But you said it was," Stubbs said, "I need to change this. My wife is threatening to leave me, my children are dying. I need to get to the present the vision showed me. It will change everything. For the better." "So certain is the Child of how events will change and what is better," the fat one remarked, "Who is he to say that the events he saw were indeed better than what they are where he is? He only received a glimpse of the whole." "But it will change what the present I have is," he said, begging them, "Please, let me prove my theory." The three gods were silent. He could sense the powers boring down upon him. "There is no return Child, from this timeline," the smallest one said, "The Penalty will be the remain stuck in the timeline you believe is the right one. Do you really wish for such a fate? Nothing there is truly yours. You will be a temporal outcast." "I agree," Stubbs nodded his head. He wouldn't allow his fate to be dictated to him. "So be it."
"Admiral. Admiral. Admiral?"
Stubbs awoke, his eyes by no means tired. He looked over and saw a young ensign flying the shuttle. This was beginning to look familiar. Not as familiar as he remembered, but getting closer. Shuttles swarmed around the orbital space station they were heading towards.
"Where are we?" he asked, pushing himself up in the chair.
"Approaching McKinley Station," she said, "I'm just glad we are finally getting here at all. Long trip."
"Yeah," he said, reaching up to his neck and feeling...a bar around his pips. He was here, in the timeline. He could change everything. "Tell me, am I still in command of the Invincible?"
She raised her eyebrows, "Not for months. Not since she was lost at the Battle of Betazed. Must've had a deeper sleep than I expected."
"No," he shook his head, "Just wanting to make sure of things. You know, things have been so crazy as of late. So, weren't we going straight to Portland?"
"Admiral Nechayev wanted to see you first," she said, looking at him oddly, "Don't you remember?"
"Now that I was too asleep to remember."
Harrison rested with his back against the wall. Tryke was pacing slowly around the room, his eyes darting every time he passed the back wall towards the force field that covered the door. They had been here for roughly three hours, ever since they had been "rescued". As soon as they got on board, they had been rushed towards this cell.
On the other side of the corridor outside, a guard stood there. He was dressed similar to Starfleet, but his uniform had a plunging neckline that went midway down his chest. They weren't close enough to be able to see the logo that was patched to the side of his sleeves, but he had no comm badge. The man was Human, and a massive scar ran down the side of his face.
"This is an odd ship," Harrison said aloud, "Kind of Federation-esque, but not quiet."
"I noticed that too," Tryke replied, passing by the doorway and it's force field. He went back to being silent.
Harrison waited a few more seconds before becoming exasperated. "What is it, sir?" he asked.
"Is it true?" Tryke asked, stopping in front of him.
"What the Klingon said about me?"
"Yes."
"It is," Harrison said simply, "All of it."
Tryke walked towards the bench on the other side of the room and sat down. "You are Section 31?"
"For a few years I was the Center," he said, his face showing nothing of the emotions he had over the revelations he was giving, "Which would basically be the Command and Control. And yes, I am Khan Noonien Singh."
"I could believe you were an agent of Section 31," Tryke said, "But not the central figure. Or Khan Noonien Singh. He died in battle against Kirk over a hundred years ago."
"I have seen the footage of that battle," Harrison replied, shaking his head, "I still can't figure out how I'd allow myself in this timeline to be killed so easily."
"Then you will agree you can't be Khan," Tryke exclaimed in triumph.
"I come from a timeline alternate to yours," Harrison said, "A timeline in which Vulcan was destroyed by a Romulan war criminal. A timeline in which Section 31 found me and put me into service. They needed me to prepare Starfleet against the war with the Klingons."
"Obviously they didn't want a Hitler walking around, so they changed my skin, even my voice. To be rid of me after I turned against them, they shot me into this timeline ten years ago after centuries of stasis. I got in with 31 and quickly rose to the top, but after Sloan and other agents compromised what it was, I left them under the care of my protege. But, I am now simply John Harrison of Starfleet. A glorious past forgotten for a mediocre present and unpromising future."
"Even though I have experienced alternate timelines myself," Tryke said, looking less than convinced, "I've always found it hard to believe other peoples stories though."
"As you wish," Harrison shrugged.
Two forms appeared at the force field. The shield deactivated and the obvious leader pointed at Harrison. The man was Andorian. One antennae was notched in several places.
"I am First Officer Tevak. Come with us," the Andorian said.
"What do you want with him?" Tryke demanded, "You will talk to me."
"Orders," the Andorian replied, "You will come Commander."
"I'll be back Captain," Harrison stood up and walked towards the entrance and entered the corridor. The force field reactivated and Tryke was left alone.
Harrison walked in front of the men towards the turbolift. As he walked, he glanced down at the military style grey carpet on the floor. As they walked, his eyes caught a yellow emblem. Presumably it was the emblem of whatever faction this ship was aligned with. It showed an outline of Earth, with the North and South American continents. A sword was stabbed through the top and stuck out at the bottom. He had never seen this emblem before.
"Are you a group of terrorists?" he asked, as the turbolift opened and he was pushed roughly inside.
"We'll let the Captain do the explaining," the Andorian replied simply. He stepped towards the side as did the Human female. The one had her Phaser assault rifle pointed at him, and the Andorian had a hand on the hilt of a dagger at the side of his hip.
At least these are no fools.
Into the ready room he was led, which was behind the bridge. As he passed the bridge, he was surprised by just how little variety there was when it came to whoever were serving the crew. A Vulcan here and there. A couple Andorians. A few Tellarites. But mostly Humans. Again he was impressed upon by the similarities with Federation design, but with obvious differences. Like only one chair where the Senior staff would have sat.
The door opened and he was led inside, the two guards remaining close behind him. The room was dark, except for a light which came from a spotlight near the ceiling. It was aimed low, so that even though it fell on the desk, there was no way of seeing the Captain's face, except he choose to walk around it. The Captain was peeling an orange with a curved knife, and he could see that the sleeves were cut shorter on his Captain's tunic than on Federation uniforms.
"Welcome," the man said, his voice distorted as he was speaking from a voice changing device, "I hope your stay hasn't been unpleasing to you."
"Why have you captured us?" Harrison demanded, "What quarrel do you have with us?"
"Captured?" the Captain asked, flicking off a broken piece of orange skin, "As my First Officer tells me, you were about to be gunned down. Is this your form of appreciation Commander?"
"Oh yes," Harrison snorted, "You saved us and then put us in cells. Very magnanimousness of you."
"We have learned to be careful of those who haven't taken the Oath of Fealty," the Captain said, taking a wedge of orange and eating it. "I am sure you have many questions. But I will only answer three. You have already asked two."
"You never answered the last one," Harrison reminded him.
The Captain chuckled. "I like that cheeky attitude," he turned serious, "Just don't make a habit of it. Fine then. Two more questions."
"I do not recognize you," he said, meaning the entirety of the situation, "Who are you?"
"This is the Imperial-Defiant Class ISS Warlord of the Terran Empire," the Captain said, "We come from another universe you could say. One that mirrors this one."
"Never heard of you," Harrison shook his head.
The Captain made a sound which might have been a snort. "Ask your Captain about us," he said, "And if he questions who we are, he'll just have to accept it."
Harrison absorbed the information. Indeed, he'd ask Tryke about it. See what he knew. He'd never heard of this Terran Empire. He knew of other realities, but not this one. He didn't realize how long he had been standing there until the Captain tapped the table.
"Your last question," the Captain prompted.
"Why are you helping us?" Harrison asked.
"The Dominion and Borg represent a threat that could potentially leak into our reality," the Captain said, "Already the enemy has made use of teleporters to try to take over our ships. We are not strong like we once were, even if we stand against our enemies. And the Emperor does not need yet a third war on his front. We already have enough trouble with the Terran Rebellion and the Alliance. And so we come as the start of an alliance between the Federation and the Terran Empire against these foul creatures."
"Generous," Harrison snorted.
"Unofficially," the Captain continued, "this woman Sarah King, she interests me at a very basic level. You may leave now."
And with that, the guards pulled away the Commander and they left the Ready Room. As soon as the door closed, the light brightened in the Ready Room, and the Captain continued to eat his orange in silence.
Act 2
"Thank goodness, Admiral!" Admiral Nechayev greeted Stubbs as he entered the war room at Starfleet Command, "I never thought you'd escape the Undine ambush at Memory Alpha."
The Undine? Stubbs was not familiar with the name but shrugged his shoulders. He looked at the pretty packed room of bustling Starfleet officers.
"Touch and go. What is the current military situation?" he asked.
"Always the same," she sighed, waving at a battle map, "Holding Andoria and Earth as our major planets. Over half of the Federation has either been assimilated by the Borg or captured by the Dominion. I swear! I feel like we've lost the war already at times."
He really didn't like this. It wasn't much better than where he had left. Vulcan must have fallen, but Andoria was still with them. So that was good.
"You think the Romulans will do anything to help us?" he asked, "Perhaps the Klingons or Tholians?"
Neychayev raised an eyebrow. "Dear nephew," she said, "Ever since the last Romulan War, the Klingons aren't able to help themselves, let alone anyone else. And the Romulans withdrew last year when one of their stars is about to supernova."
So much death and destruction. How could one possibly survive such madness? Had he not come here for a better present?
"Any other questions?" she asked, waiting like a little girl at her birthday party.
"Why have I been recalled?" he asked, finally coming to the question he had been most anxious to have answered. He at least knew he had been recalled, but the ensign had waffled her way around answering the question. "I do much better for you at the front."
"I realize that," Nechayev said, placing a hand on his shoulder, "And I realize that's how you wish to handle the death of your wife."
The news hit him hard. Wait! He didn't remember that at all. She didn't die! This was a messed up timeline. She had been alive! She had been. Veronica was still alive!
"Death from effects of assimilation," she shook her head, "and you having come to take care of your daughter Lola until the Enterprise returns from Andoria. But believe me Joshua, it's for the best."
The door burst open to the holodeck as R'Kar lowered himself and using all his force rammed into it. The force fields around the holodeck collapsed as the door burst outwards. Red blood dripped from the Gorn bit marks and the pieces of metal that had torn into him. But the manacles vanished as he exited the holosuite. Gorn bites were poisonous, and while it would completely paralyze a Human, it still made his hand go limp from being numb.
Looking around and seeing no one in the corridor waved the other two freed prisoners out of the holodeck and into the corridor. Red lights throbbed as "Red Alert" flashed. The humans couldn't hear anything, but the Gorn rose to the top of his height and listened intently, his nostrils flaring.
"They are attacking the Federation ship," he reported, "It ssseemsss the other crew are losing power to their ship."
"Can you hear who they are attacking?" Sam asked.
"No," he shook his head.
Nurse Beeltroona walked onto the bridge, the Orion having been called up as the battle was going on. The ship shuddered from multiple hits. Upon reaching the bridge, she saw several members of the bridge crew needed to be attended to. The ship shuddered from another hit.
"Front shields down to seventy-percent."
"Turn on phase shielding!" Trust ordered. She looked at her boy friend and noticed that there was a wild look in his eyes. "Proceed at maximum impulse at direction 7.1 by 9.4 Vector."
The ship sped forward on the ordered course. She looked out to see a damaged Nebula-class starship, pieces of hull floating in space. She bustled over to an wounded Ensign with plasma burns.
"Raise shields to maximum and turn off cloak in three...two...one!" The ship shuddered and she lost her grip, falling face flat.
She then looked up and towards the screen, a third of the saucer-section of the enemy ship was blown out. At such close distance she could see bodies and other material floating in space. And none of them looked like Species 8472.
"They are hailing they wish to surrender," the Tactical officer reported.
"Ignore and continue firing."
"But sir..."
Trust stood up and pushing himself over the railing shoved the replacement Tactical officer to the side. "I said fire!" he shouted, firing a stream of lasers the the remaining hull. "None of them shall escape!"
"First we got to get to sickbay," Jonathon said, pointing down the hall, "We're no good half deprived of food and sleep. And we all got pretty banged up."
"I agree with you," a voice called out and they turned to see McCoy running down the hall, Ashely in tow, "We are attacking the Kahn Noonien Singh."
"Adam's ship?" Sam asked, frowning at the news, "So much for Species 8472. This is a vendetta. But I can't believe he'd go to these lengths to kill Tryke."
"What are we going to do though?" Jonathon asked, hugging his wife close to him, "There's only five of us!"
"There's seven," and they turned to see the Orion doctor and a wobbling pregnant Jamie staggering down the hall. "Nathan has gone mad."
"Ensigns Lendon and R'Kar," Mollen ordered, "Take the bridge if you can. Beltroona and McCoy, put nestrizine gas throughout the corridors and Auxiliary Bridge. I'm going to try to put this ship out of action."
Act 3
Picard wiped at his brow, the sweat wiping away as he did so. The battle at Witch Head Nebula had been the most brutal action he had ever been in since the Bassen Rift. Thirteen tactical spheres and seven cube had been destroyed from the arriving force. But, only a dozen Starfleet vessels had escaped the butchery.
"Incoming message from Starfleet Command," Data announced from the Tactical station, where he was taking over after the rest of the tactical officers on the bridge had been killed.
"Onscreen," Picard said, looking up from the floor as a very staticy image appeared.
"By Heavens Picard!" he heard the friendly and concerned voice of Paris exclaim, "What happened?"
"We walked right into a trap Owen," he replied simply. "The Borg baited us. And like fools we took it."
"I'm sending orders to all our ships to pull back to defend Tellar Prime and Ear-" static began breaking into the message, "sh-d be ab- t- -ve a sig-nific-t f-ce assembled he-e by t-m-oro-."
"Can you clean the message up?" Picard asked.
"Negative sir," Data replied.
"You are breaking up," Picard said, "We're on our way at Warp 4 back to Earth."
"-ee y-u soo-," and the signal shut down.
Picard leaned back in his chair. His head was hurting. Man, was it hurting-
Locutus. Locutus. We need you. Locutus. Locutus. You can save us.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
We want you! Locutus. Locutus! Save us.
He felt a hand shaking him. "Admiral, Admiral. Jean-Luc, are you alright?"
He snapped back to reality to see the bridge crew gathered around him, concerned looks on their faces. The face directly in front of his was Data's. He blinked twice.
"Thank you for your concern, Mister Data," he said, wondering if he'd ever get used to B-4. He wasn't really Data, no matter how many memories he had of Data. "I'm quiet all right. How many people were we able to rescue?"
"One hundred and seven in all," Data replied, the crew beginning to return to their stations.
"I want as many as aren't injured to be assigned to the departments they are in on here on the Enterprise," he said, slowly standing, "We are awfully short-handed now. And they'll be able to help Nog in engineering. We'll need to get back to Earth as soon as possible."
"Hate these things," the Human sitting across the room said, tossing a cracker back onto the plate. "Combat rations. Who can live off these things?"
"Be grateful you're getting anything," the Andorian commander replied, entering the mess hall, followed by Tryke and Harrison. "Atten-hut Crew! This is Captain Tryke and Commander Harrison from the Federation of Planets. You'll mind yourselves around them, or else, the punishment will be severe."
"Don't worry about us," Tryke said, following the Andorian towards a table in middle of the room and sitting, "I'm sure we can handle ourselves."
"Zat is vat zey all zay," a massive brute of a Human smiled wickedly, "But ve of ze Terran Empire, ve shov thm divverently."
"Really?" Harrison said, sitting. "And who are you exactly?"
"Private Virst Clazz Klaus Hindler of MACO," the brute pounded his chest and received many an applause from around the room.
"We all but have done away with the MACOs on our side," Tryke replied, taking a cup being handed by an Orion slave girl. "Found they were too loud. Good fighters, but too noisy."
"Klaus is sure a noisy one," a Tellarite derided from another corner of the room, "Especially in the sack."
Slewful chuckles ran around the room. "At leazt I get action!" Klaus pounded his fist on the table.
"On the topic of getting rid ofs," Tryke said, sipping from the cup, "I've read the reports of our side's Captain Sisko and Bashir. They said the Empire had fallen after the Alliance destroyed them."
"Load of dog crap!" a Vulcan snarled, twirling a blade on his table on the tip, his finger holding it up, "We're still around."
"They were misinformed," Tevak agreed, "To a point. The Emperor Spock did disarm us to a point and when the Alliance hit us, we had no choice but to abandon most of our colonies. Even Earth fell after a week long siege. But, we've held out at Vulcan, Tellar Prime and Andorian space. Three dozen worlds still accept our lordship over them."
"Now it's a holding action as our forces are whittled away," the Tellarite shook his head, "Too many idiot commanders."
"Silence!" the man sitting next to him whacked his arm, "Or you'll get the chamber for sure."
"So what then do you hope to accomplish then by coming here?" Harrison asked, "Wouldn't it be wiser to stay in your own universe?"
"The rebels are drawing most of the attention away from us and have been winning victories," Tevak replied, "And while the Empire's been able to have their respite and grow thier strength, the Jem'Hadar invaded on three of our worlds. Many men died before they were subdued. We cannot allow them back in our universe if we are to survive."
"So only one ship?"Tryke was amused by that, "Not exactly an expeditionary force."
"This is all Emperor Spock allowed to be sent at the moment," Tevak said, "But give it time."
"What's the present location of your ship?" Tevak asked, when they were back on the bridge. "Together we'll be able to do more than just on our own."
Tryke pushed the helm officer aside and began punching in coordinates into the navigation computer. The Vulcan went to grab his dagger, but Tevak tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. Tryke placed a tiny device that would erase the location after being used.
"These were the last coordinates of the Khan Noonien Singh," Tryke said, stepping back, "Forgive me if I take precautions."
"Of course not," Tevak said, "I'd have done the same."
"So when do we get to see your captain?" Tryke asked.
"Oh, the Captain does not feel you need to see him," Tevak replied, "Ah, here's something for you."
Tryke looked up and saw a face he thought never to see again. "Merlek!" he exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
"Excuse me?" the Vulcan said, long hair in lanks down his face, "Do I know you?"
Tryke sighed. "No," he said, "You don't. But I knew our Merlek and he was a friend of mine."
"Friend huh?" Tevak laughed, "That's a good one. Our Merlek is a servant, running items from one ship to the other. And he has personal transporter units for you. Just incase we need to jimmy you on out of there.
Act 4
Joshua walked down the street towards his home. It was raining, just like when he had visited here in the pseudo-vision he'd had when the Gaming Gods had thrown him here. The Ensign trailed him like a love-struck puppy, sticking as close to him as he could. If he took a step to the right, she would take a step to the right. If he took a step to the left, she would. If he bent over to pick up a rock and toss it aside, she would try to follow suit.
It was almost three miles from the shuttle bay to his house, and he could have gotten a lift there, but, he preferred to walk. It helped him stay in his time frame. Or, to keep himself sane despite the insanity of the situation.
His wife, his precious Veronica, was dead. How could it have happened? She had never been taken by the Borg to his knowledge. And what had she been doing in the Betazoid system? She hated space travel. Hadn't his coming here supposed to have been a better place? A way to make things right? Had he really forgotten that much?
"Remind me again," he said, after the Ensign followed his almost-trip "Why did I bring you along?"
"What?" she asked, "Why shouldn't I? You are my God father."
He stopped suddenly as if he had run into a brick wall. "I don't have a godchild," he corrected her, "No one has ever trusted their child to me like that."
"Dad told me that if he was to die," she said, a little confused, "I was to live with you. You were his closest friend."
That's right. He closed his eyes. This was that ensign. He'd forgotten all about her.
"I didn't know your father beyond his being my navigation instructor at the Academy," he shook his head in denial.
"You don't remember Thanksgiving in New Orleans?" she asked, "Or the tennis match at Risa? Or the Orian Slave Girls you rescued from the Gorn slavers? You were the best of friends!"
"Young lady," he thrust a thumb at her, but thought better of it. What if this was where the changes needed to be made? He never thought of it that way. "For some reason I don't remember it that way. Yes, your father was a good man, but, I was not his friend. He was my teacher and we respected the boundary set between teacher and student. But, whatever, I'm having a tough day!"
She stood there, and smiled. "That's fine!" she said, "And just wait until you meet my children! Zake and Davey are looking forward to seeing you."
He stared at her. Those were his boys! No, not in this timeline. With an even greater sadness he threw his bags over his shoulder stomped off towards his house.
When he came to the intersection that would lead to his house, he looked back and saw the Ensign still there, following him. He closed his eyes and gripped the metallic handles even tighter then he had already. If they hadn't been made out of titanium, he would have bent them, he was sure of it.
Perhaps if he just ignored her, she would go away. But no, it didn't work like that. He waited as an antique Corvette, vintage 2010, drove past him, the occupant waving his hand absently towards him. Once the vehicle had passed, he strode across the street, feeling the small puddles on the road under his shoes as he walked.
He came to the neighborhood where the houses were, and he veered off onto a side street. strode towards the yellow colored one at the end of the left side of the side street in a small cul-de-sac. His wife had loved the color yellow, despite the fact it gave him a headache to see it. Oh well. He would honor her memory and not change the colors.
The Ensign had stopped following him, which he was grateful for. He walked up to the door, and grasped the doorknob with his strong hand. It had been three years since he had last been home. With a sigh of both loss and happiness welling inside of him, he opened the door and walked in.
There, in the hallway, as he closed the door, he could hear the deep monotone voice of his father and the sweet tender voice of his daughter. He could hear the words, "Cookie" and "Frosting." It must be Wednesday, when his father, Bradley Stubbs would come over and make cookies with his five year old granddaughter.
His mother Susan would have done so, but, she had been killed at Wolf 359 while serving as Security Chief onboard the USS Melbourne. She hadn't lived to see her son get married to the most beautiful woman. Never to see her grandchild. How sad it was.
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, taking in the smells of hard wood, bear skin carpets, and the wafting smell of chocolate and flour dough. He opened his eyes and the oven door opened, and his mind flashed back to his wife's chicken, cooked in an oven. She had despised replicators, saying food from them were no better then sun baked bricks.
He was not about to let this opportunity to say hello to his gorgeous daughter go by. He opened his eyes and strode into the kitchen, where both daughter and grandfather were turned towards a small data pad while the cookies cooked, pointing out stars and talking about the different races that lived on them. How hard it was for him, knowing she had very rarely had seen her father in the flesh, beyond calls.
His father turned to him, and his mouth dropped in silent shock. He held up his finger to his lips and snuck up behind the bright eyed, brown haired girl. The girl noticed something was amiss when her grandfather did not continue talking, and turned in her chair, and saw her father standing six feet behind her.
"Papa!" she squealed, leaping down and rushing up to him.
Her small arms clung him as tightly as she could and he kneeled down, and took her in his arms. The tears, unacceptable, began to well up in his eyes.
"I'm home darling," he said in her ear.
"Gave us no word you were coming," Brad said, standing up and clasping his son's shoulder, "If you had given us advance warning, we would have prepared more cookies for you."
"You should have known," he said, looking up at him, rubbing Lola's back, "I would come back to take care of my daughter after what happened to her mother."
"Her mother?" the elderly man said, "We never sent a message to Starfleet Command about it."
"Then how come I am here?" he asked, "How do I know it then?"
"Any word from Kanosi?" Tryke asked, looking at the Tactical station.
The officer raised an eyebrow.
"It's a moniker," Harrison supplied, "It's the first two letters of each of our ships name. We use it short."
With a look of the lightbulb going on in his head, the officer shook his head. Tryke looked at the screen. Why weren't they responding to hails?
"I'd suggest you stop pacing," Tevak said, his antennae flattening behind his head.
"I am?" Tryke asked, and looking noticed he had indeed been pacing.
"You're not going to accomplish anything besides wearing a hole into the already faded carpet," Tevak said, "And we simply don't have the funds to get people to work on them."
"AAAADDDMMMIIIRRRAAALLL!"
The shout sounded from down the hall and Lt. Commander Barclay was seen flying down the hallway towards Admiral Paris' office. Officers jumped aside as he ran. He was running so fast that he bounded the last few steps and skidded to a halt. Grabbing the titanium door knob to the glass door, he swung it open and stuck his head inside, sweating.
The bald headed Admiral looked up, his eyes careworn. "What is it Mister Barclay?" he demanded with a sigh, "I have tons of work as you can seen." Indeed, his desk was flooded with PADDs.
"Look at this!" Barclay said, waving his hand frantically.
"Really..."
"No, you need to look at this!" Barclay said even more ferevently.
Paris threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine," he said, standing up and throwing on his uniform jacket and following him out, "But this better be important."
He followed him down the hallway as fast as he could keep up and into the Situation Room in Starfleet Command. And what he saw stunned him.
"We bring you breaking news," a news reporter was saying, sitting behind a desk on a vidscreen with the San Francisco sky scape behind him, "This video has just been leaked by an anonomus source. We warn you, some content might be too graphic for our viewers."
The screen changed to the bridge of an Akira-class starship, most of the bridge crew dead. Sparks flew from damaged consols, and blood could be seen dripped him a hand, nearly severed by a fallen bulkhead. The Captain was seen vivisected and drones were swarming the bridge, assimilating dead people. A human jumped up, blood splattered on his face and shouting, a crazed look in his eyes.
"Save us! Please! They're swarming us! Don't let us-" the body vanished with green plasma shots from the Borg drones. The screen at that point switched to the heavily mustached newsreporter.
"Those and dozens of other images are flooding the airways all over Earth. We already have reports of rioting going in in Berlin, Shang'hi and the list is growing-"
"Shut that off immediately!" Paris ordered his normally quiet voice bellowing among the men and women in the room, "And get Starfleet security down here! And tell them to be riot geared!"
"Coming out of warp speed at three...two...one," helm reported and the ship slipped out to a seen of destruction. Tryke looked out of the screen, amazed at the damage he was seeing. The shattered hulk of the Khan Noonien Singh was seen, spinning.
"Scan for survivors!" Tevak ordered.
"We are seeing some life signs," the Conn reported, "But nothing much."
"The Khan..." Harrison said, his mouth slightly open, "It's gone..."
"Unidentified ship," a voice hailed them, and Tryke knew the voice, "This is Commander Trust of the USS Invincible. State your name and intentions."
Tevak looked back to him. "Do we answer him?" he asked.
"Absolutely not!" Tryke said, "He's the one that's done this!"
Harrison looked at him. "But, Trust is Starfleet."
"Starfleet with a vendetta against me," Tryke said, "And he's here to kill us and the only way we're getting out of this is to play it smart. Here's what we'll do..."
"They've sent a text message only," the Tactical replied, "They're having problems with their comm systems. Asking if they can come alongside us and get some repair crew onboard."
"What type of ship is that?" Trust asked, looking out towards the ship coming closer to them.
"It looks like a Constellation-class sir," Tactical did, doing a scan, "Refit it looks like. But it's marking are not Starfleet."
"A private sector than?" the Science officer asked. "Maybe something like the Venta Alliance?"
I can't even remember her name, Trust thought to himself amazed.
"They're again asking for assistance," Tactical prompted.
"Alright," Trust said, realizing they were no threat, "Bring them alongside us. We can give them a hand."
"We're in transporter range now," the transporter chief reported. The ship had jolted when a tractor beam caught hold of them. The assault crew, comprised of Harrison, Tryke, and a few MACOs of the Warlord, were already on the transporter pad.
"Alright," he said, "Energize us as soon as the other crew starts to beam over. And remember the plan."
"Got it," Tevak replied from the bridge.
The transport beams went and as the beams took them away, the away mission of the Invincible came on board. To see a dozen Security guards who immediately stunned them in wide beam phaser fire.
"We've lost all contact with the away team," Tactical reported.
"Destroy that ship then!" snapped Trust, and right as they prepared to fire, weapons went offline.
"What the h-l is going on?" Trust demanded, as suddenly all the power began to go offline. "Engineering report! Engineering!"
The sound of phaser fire criss-crossed outside, and Mollen stayed put. Well, 'staying put' was such a lucid term. He edged closer to the access panel of the Jeffry's tube and waited until the phaser fire stopped. He had done his job, and power was going out. But he was sure if it was okay to come out. Slowly he pushed the access panel forward and it fell to the ground. His fingers gripped the spanner all the more firmly.
A pair of massive hands grabbed him and pulled him out. A massive Human face stared at him suspiciously. Sam could smell the stinky breath on him.
"Don't worry about him, Claus," a voice laughed, "He's harmless."
With a grunt he was dropped on the floor. Next thing he knew, Sam was pulled up by a happy Tryke. It was good to see each other. All around them the entire engineering crew had been stunned and MACOs were taking up key points around the room.
"I heard they were coming for you." Mollen said.
"I'm here to right a grave wrong," Tryke said, "So how many can we count on?"
"Seven of us on the crew," Mollen said, "The doctor, the Lendon couple, R'kar and Jamie. Nurse Beeltroona too. But that's really it."
"That'll have to work," Tryke said, "Let's go."
The group began moving towards the door. But, just as they were about to leave, they were stopped by an exclamation from Mollen.
"Ah actually," Sam held up his hand, "Nestrizene gas is being pumped outside. You might not want to go that way."
"We'll have to get to the bridge another way then," Tryke shook his head annoyed, "Your help is much appreciated, Mr. Mollen."
The turbolift door burst open and Trust whirled around as he stood near conn. A mass of scales and muscle jumped out and in a single blow three officers went down. The rest of the officers scrambled, pulling out phasers as the Gorn and the Lendon couple charged the bridge, fighting the bridge crew.
"Set your phasers to kill," Trust shouted, "Kill the mutineers!"
Just at that moment a twinkling of lights appeared on the bridge and seven figures soon stood in place of the lights.
"Don't shoot the Gorn or the frizzy haired girl or boy!" Trust as he saw Adam shout, "Stun the rest of them though!"
Phaser fire criss-crossed, and three more officers were down. Two MACOs were hit by the return fire, and the MACOs spread out to avoid being hit. Adam jumped forward and fired a phaser at Trust. Trust ducked and punched Adam in the stomach. And then kicked the phaser aside. He jumped down and began to batter away at Adam, landing blow after blow on him.
Harrison jumped between two officers that were behind the relief consoles and with three rapid blows each knocked them both out, his face contorting into a victorious roar.
Adam punched upwards breaking a rib with super-human strength and then headbutted Trust nose. Grabbing his glove, he tore it off, and reaching around, shoot tubules into Trust neck. Nanoprobes soared into the Commander's neck and he fell, screaming as the programming of the Section 31 was forcibly removed by the nanoprobes through pain. He aimed a savage kick that connected behind Tryke's knee.
"I knew you were dangerous!" he shouted, staggering to get up, holding his punctured neck with his hands. He kicked upwards, Adam catching it. But he jumped up and kicked with his other foot, and it connected with the side of Adam's head.
"Now time to die-" Trust snarled but he collapsed as Harrison pounded the back of his head, causing him to black out. He reached out with his hand and gripped around Trust's throat. Trust struggled for breath, punching Harrison across the face time after time.
"You shouldn't have betrayed your oath!" Harrison hissed.
"N-no no!" Tryke said, still disorganized.
But with the tearing sound of flesh, Harrison removed his clenched fist from Trust's throat, blood pouring from his ripped open wounds. Trust was gurgling blood, until he died. Soon, the fighting was all over and the Invincible was taken.
"Ze ship iz ourz," Claus grinned with delight of victory.
"Too many have died though," Tryke shook his head, "Tevak?"
"Yes sir?"
"Start sending medical teams over. We'll need them."
"Right away."
"Sssir?" R'Kar said, turning to the Tactical console, "We have a Red Priority Ssssignal from Earth. Earth is under attack."
Act 5
Borg ships swarmed the defenses of Starfleet, destroying everything in their wake. Behind them came hundreds of Jem'Hadar attack ships, and where-ever the Borg ships were not having success, they lent their strength to the battle. The space around Earth was a torrential rain of criss-crossing fire, as Starfleet vessels pulled every slowly backwards, fighting with everything they had. Fifteen vessels in the middle of the line were simultaneously targeted by the Borg and no matter how much they evaded, they were each destroyed. And the Borg pushed through the opening. No matter if they were being attacked by either side. No matter if they weren't adapting to the Gent'eila powered weapons. Earth was in their sight. And that's where they were going.
"We must get off the planet!" the Security Chief said, pushing the President through the compound towards the transwarp system. The pounding was causing the ceiling above to crack.
"I'm going," the petite Andorian woman said, tripping over a fallen piece of ceiling. Once more she inwardly cursed having to wear this ridiculous suit. She hated suits.
A massive explosion shook the capitol building in Geneva. "Go!"
There was a transporter beam before them, and they stopped as a figure in a heavy cloak with hood drawn over their face stood before them. The Security Chief stepped before her and pointed his phaser towards the figure in shadow.
"Who are you?" he demanded, "Show your-"
He was unable to finish as a wide beam of a phaser tore down the hallway, tearing through wall, ceiling and floor.
Plasma weapons were pounding the grounds taken up by Starfleet Command and Starfleet Academy. Cities all across Earth were burning, but none seemed more potent than the ground bashing they were receiving here. The power transformers went up in a massive flare, and power went throughout the city.
One figure watched it, the massive falling stars that weren't stars as they slammed into San Francisco. She had rarely seen anything so beautiful. Even the screams of the wounded and dying were music to her. Oh yes, she could see the anti-space batteries opening up on the orbiting ship, but no matter how much they fired, there was no stopping the Borg.
"You find this amusing Center?" another being asked, standing beside her.
"The death of the bloated Federation and the birth of the new," she said, dust covering them from a very close hit that lit up the night sky. She wiped the dust away from her well-endowed body. "I find it beautiful."
The other figure remained silent. "Just don't take too much delight out of it," they said, "Even an inferior race such as your should not have to die so needlessly."
"What does it matter to you?" she asked, turning to the figure, who was in the form of an old gardener, "You'll wipe us out anyways if you have the chance."
"My treaty with Janeway remains true until she dies," "Boothby" shook his head. "So, will you be going back to Tryke?"
"I have to," she said, looking up at the stars, "He most certainly should not fall among the slain. Just remember you are to get the Dominion out of this war once this battle is over."
"Silly child," Boothby said, "It'll take longer than that. But be assured, they'll be gone soon enough. Enjoy the show."
And with that, he left her alone. And she turned towards the thundering in the distance, and watched as Paradise fell.