Chapter Ten

Captain's Log, Stardate 81596.3. The Borg War has begun. Admiral Heaton has ordered the Ascension to the proverbial front line, so we are currently en route to Vulcan at maximum warp. This day, which I have been dreading since I was first convinced of the reality of Starfleet's claims, marks what may be the beginning of the end of the Federation. Already, reports are reaching us of attacks along the fringes of Ferengi and Breen space. Thus far we seem to have the Klingons on our side, but as yet no word has come from the Cardassian Union. We are severely undermanned, and our future looks grim. I can only hope that Starfleet has some grand scheme forming that will help to turn the tide of this already gruesome conflict.

I lowered the console at my desk and stared out at the stars as they shot past the Ready Room window. The weight of my earlier decision bore down on me as I contemplated the reasons I had agreed to this mission in the first place. I got up and paced around the room. We were headed into the unknown, about to embark upon what could easily be our last journey. It wouldn't be very long now until we reached Vulcan. What, I wondered, will we find there? I approached the replicator, trying to think of something that would calm my nerves.

"Chai tea. Hot," I said. Instantly it appeared, steaming and giving off a very pleasant aroma. I reached for the cup, feeling the warmth radiating from it as my hand closed around it.

Suddenly I was thrown against the bulkhead. The entire ship shook violently with what must have been more than just an energy blast, and immediately the room was bathed in crimson light as the red alert klaxon began to sound. I slammed a hand against my chest, hearing the familiar chirp of the communicator badge.

"Report!"

"Captain, we're under attack! Photon torpedo, sir," came Ensign Walker's voice. I was surprised to hear him, since he had not been on duty at the same time as myself since I had been aboard.

"The Borg?" I asked, regaining my footing and heading for the door.

"Unknown, sir."

"Unknown? How can they be unknown, Ensign?"

"Because whoever it was fired from a cloaked vessel."

"Cloaked!" I demanded as I entered the bridge. Before Ensign Walker had a chance to turn and answer me, the ship was rocked by yet another blast. Half the bridge crew -including, I noted, Spock- went sprawling as we shifted starboard. I gripped the armrest of my chair and hauled myself into it. "Evasive maneuvers!" As the ship swerved to miss being fired at from a ship it could not detect, the planet Vulcan came into sight.

It loomed ahead of us, a giant and desolate thing to behold. Bathed in the harsh, close light of the 40 Eridani star, Vulcan looked to be nothing more than a massive chunk of ugly rock and sand. As we approached it, we saw the distant shapes of several Borg cubes and numerous Starfleet vessels locked in deadly combat. Swiftly, the Ascension shot past the night side of Vulcan, rocking slightly as it withstood a barrage of energy fire from our unseen pursuers.

"Shields at eighty-six percent, Cap'n," Tex drawled concernedly.

"Not good," I muttered under my breath.

"Bring us about, Mr. Newman," Jerry said, assuming his chair next to me. Spock, meanwhile, had hauled himself from the floor and was sitting on the other side of my chair.

"Are you all right, Mr. Spock?" I asked. He nodded silently, but I noticed that his aging frame was not taking the beating of numerous space battles as well as it once had.

"Cap'n, look!" Tex suddenly shouted. I turned toward the screen to see several shapes beginning to emerge amidst the shimmering of stars. The vessels were decloaking. There were five of them, each one reminiscent of Shinzon's Scimitar -vile and deadly bird-like shapes against the backdrop of space.

"Mr. Newman, get a lock on the nearest ship! Lieutenant Brock," I looked at Julie, for once doing a pretty good job of keeping my mind on the present situation. "Identify them as quickly as you can. We don't know how long they'll remain decloaked."

"Aye, Captain," she said, her voice soft and demure. She looked down at her console for a moment, then back up at me. "Definitely Scimitar-class, sir. But they don't match any of the ships recorded in the Romulan fleet list."

"The Bek'Tal," Jerry said.

"Captain, they're powering up weapons again!" Johnstone said, bracing herself against her console. I grabbed my armrests, and looked over at Jerry.

"Why would they decloak if they didn't have…" We were rocked by several blasts as the closest ship strafed across the dorsal forward hull. "Lock on photon torpedoes and fire!" I yelled. "Evasive maneuvers!"

"Captain, we're being hailed," Johnstone said. "It's Admiral Heaton."

"Open a channel on audio. Admiral, we're a little busy at the moment," I said as a lance of disruptor fire shot across the forward hull. A near miss…

"Captain, I need you to take an away team down to the surface. The Bek'Tal have beamed Reman shock troops into the city of Shirkahr." For a second, I listened in shocked silence to dead air.

"What about the Borg, sir?" I noticed at this point that the Bek'Tal ships were mingling among the Borg cubes with seeming impunity. While two of them continued to fire on us, the other three broke off and began firing on other starships. This was turning out to be interesting indeed.

"The Ascension can deal with them, Captain. Get your men down to the coordinates I'm sending you and join up with the assault team. Picard will fill you in on any other important details. Heaton out."

"Damn!" I said, rising from my chair. Jerry jumped up as well.

"Captain, do I need to remind you that…"

"He told me to go, Je…Number One. Keep this ship together while I'm gone." Jerry sat down slowly, nodding. I looked around the room. "Johnstone, Newman, you're with me." I tapped my communicator badge. "Allen to Lieutenant Commander Weston." A pause.

"Weston here, sir."

"Miss Weston…"

"Mrs. Weston, sir."

"Ah. Mrs. Weston, please meet me in the Transporter Room." Another pause.

"Aye, sir," she said. I turned to leave the bridge.

"Captain." It was Spock.

"Yes?"

"If you do not mind, I would like to accompany you to the surface." I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to put Spock's life in any more danger than it already was. Of course, he was still in considerable danger aboard the Ascension, but somehow it seemed a safer place to be. Then again, I mused, it is his planet.

"Of course, Mr. Spock."

The unappreciated comfort of cool air disappeared with the tingling of the transporter as we materialized on the surface of Vulcan. Sweat immediately began forming on our brows, and we each reached to loosen our collars in response. Only Spock seemed immune to the effects of the heat. In fact, he seemed to breathe a slight sigh of relief, as though the cooler air of a starship bothered him.

"Phasers on 'stun', folks," I said, trying to sound unfazed by the heat.

"Shit, man!" Tex complained, attempting to roll up his sleeves. "It's hotter'n hell out here!" As my eyes adjusted to the brightness of my surroundings, I saw the city of Shirkahr ahead. Picard and his own away team were less than a hundred meters off, waiting on us, while the city itself seemed to be several kilometers off. Shouldering my phaser rifle, I motioned to the rest of the group and began running toward him. On the way, I saw one other team of five materialize nearby and begin heading in Picard's direction.

"What the hell's going on?" I panted as I reached him.

"Remans," he said flatly, signaling for the three teams to begin moving out. As we ran toward the edge of the town, now brandishing our phaser rifles in case of ambush, he explained. "There's a research base in the heart of the city. It's been classified for years, but apparently the Remans have gotten wind of its existence. Starfleet believes that they are attempting to kidnap several of the scientists, though we have no idea why."

"What do they research?" I asked, struggling to keep up with the much older captain.

"Mostly they begin research in fields which are eventually banned," Picard grinned slightly. "They began the research on certain subspace weaponry, which was eventually banned. They did research for a while in various aspects of genetic engineering, which was already banned. In the last decade or so, they began researching quantum instabilities and their reaction to different forms of radioactive decay. Unfortunately, this had the unforeseen result of creating several new forms of deadly radiation. The cover was blown on the site when two radiation types, thelaron and nachron, were discovered to have biogenic effects. Everyone knew about the site and what the researchers were up to, and it has supposedly been shut down ever since then."

"But you're about to tell me that they really weren't shut down, aren't you?" I said, barely able to breathe now from running.

"The indications are that something important is still going on there. Something important enough for a raiding party of Bek'Tal Remans and Borg to wage a large battle just to appropriate something or someone."

"The scientists…" I trailed off. We had arrived in the city, and found ourselves finally stopping near one end of a giant courtyard. The streets were desolate; not a Vulcan was to be seen. Swiftly and silently, Picard began motioning for various officers to take places of defense. He did this not a moment too soon, as suddenly a member of the third away team was hit in the chest with a disruptor blast. It hit him so hard that it knocked him off balance, and with only a slight moan he fell over dead.

"Get down!" Picard shouted to the rest of the teams. Immediately everyone complied, finding a place to hide behind as more and more disruptor blasts flew across the open space of the courtyard. I ducked behind a giant stone pillar and peered out, trying to catch a glimpse of our attackers. Finally, I spotted one of them, cleverly hidden behind an overturned crate. Taking careful aim, I fired my phaser at him, stunning him and knocking him down. This had the unfortunate effect of alerting the Remans to my position; their reaction was to fire in my direction with everything they had. I could hear chunks of rock breaking off the pillar I stood behind and hitting the ground with a thud. I shuddered with each blast. I looked over at Picard, who was mouthing something at me. I couldn't quite pick it out the first time, so he repeated it: They've got prisoners; be careful. I looked, but could not see the prisoners from my position. Nonetheless, I resolved to make sure of what I was aiming at at all times, for fear of stunning an innocent prisoner.

Suddenly, a deathly silence swept the courtyard. I glanced over at Picard, who was looking with frustration at his phaser rifle.

"Damn!" he said, this time out loud. "They've set off an EM surge."

"Who?" I asked, hearing several Remans cursing from the other side. Picard looked confused.

"Since they're not firing either, I would guess that it was the Vulcans." Before I could respond, the entire courtyard was filled with a strange noise. A dozen or so Remans, who had drawn daggers and were approaching our side, stopped in the open and looked around for the source. It was a low drone, increasing slowly in volume until it became a dull rumble.

"That sounds like…"

"Voices," Picard finished for me. At the visible edge of the city, several forms could be seen approaching. In the scorching heat of the Vulcan midday, they appeared to shimmer as they made their way slowly past the outer pillars and into the courtyard. They were clad in large, white robes, and as they came closer it became apparent that they were the source of the droning sound.

"The Kohlinaru!" Picard whispered in awe. Vulcan's answer to monks, the Kohlinaru were the greatest of the disciples of Surak; schooled in pure, emotionless logic. They spent their lives wandering the desert, denying every amenity in favor of pondering the mysteries of the universe. Now, however, it appeared that they were also the protectors of Shirkahr.

They stepped into the courtyard and stopped abruptly. The droning also ceased, leaving in its wake a thick, tangible silence. The Remans stood and stared at them, nonplussed, for several seconds, clearly unsure of how to handle this new development. Clearly, it had been the intention of the Kohlinaru to stack the odds in their own favor with the technology-crippling EM surge. Suddenly, one of the Reman soldier's lunged for the group, swinging his knife at the nearest Vulcan's face. With a movement of his arm so subtle and so quick that I barely registered having seen it, the monk gripped the Reman's wrist, pulled him forward, and brought his arm around behind him. From across the courtyard I could hear the crunch of bone as the soldier's arm was instantly mangled into uselessness. He screamed in pain, an act that had the effect of stirring the rest of the Remans into action. They attacked simultaneously, lunging toward the Kohlinaru.

I stared in utter amazement as, one by one, the unarmed Kohlinaru dispatched the Reman troops into a pile of moaning, writhing bodies. And while the Remans grunted loudly in their guttural, throaty way, the Vulcans made no sound whatsoever. At one point, a blade struck home, slicing into a monk's forearm. The monk made no sound whatsoever, but grabbed the Reman by the face with his other arm, twisting his head in a sudden, neck-breaking motion. The offending Reman slumped to the ground instantly, dead.

Up to this point, all of us had been watching in shock, none of us exactly sure how to proceed. For my part, I was a little concerned that if I joined the fight, the Vulcan monks might mistake me for one of the enemies, and I would wind up another body on the pile. It only stood to reason that they would know not to attack a Federation officer, but I didn't really want to take any chances. Apparently, neither did Picard. He motioned for everyone to stay put as we watched.

There were only five or six Remans left, and it was looking as though we were going to win the skirmish, when disaster struck. Suddenly, a dozen or so shapes materialized in the midst of the arena. All Borg.