Chapter Fourteen

It wasn't her alarm that awoke Setask the next morning. It was the flashing and blaring warning klaxon that pounded around the ship and the frantic ringing of her door chime. The commotion only made her head hurt more.

Standing, she gasped. Her muscles had been closed off in the same position for far too long, and the blood hurried to fill every inch of her before she fell down again. Using the wall for support, she hobbled over to the door and opened it.

"What's happening?" Setask asked, pushing off from the wall and brushing a stray piece of hair behind her pointed ear.

The ensign's eyes were wide with fear. "The Borg are coming, sir."

"What?" The haze of distress and abuse had set in. Confusion was taking control.

"The Borg detected us."

"They shouldn't have." Setask replied, disbelief settling in for the ride as well.

"I know. Commander Thiri couldn't figure out how they did. But they did. And they are coming for us." The ensign replied. Setask knew she had to pull it together. The crew needed some kind of strength to shake away the fear, and that was what a captain was for. No matter how much they in turn were afraid.

"I'm on my way to the bridge now." She stumbled down the corridor. The entire ship seemed to be buzzing, pounding like her heart. The colors seemed to burst and bubble, even though they were modest. The splashes of color that were crewmen bustling to their stations seemed like slaps in the face.

Whatever was wrong couldn't be a bother now. She had work to do.

Stepping out of the lift onto the bridge, Setask called out, "Status."

"Borg cube approaching at impulse 6. They will be within firing range in 15 minutes." Tokkra responded.

"I guess we'll have to push this mission along a few hours early." Outside, Setask was the mirror of calm. On the inside, there was a war between panic and anxiety, and they both had nuclear bombs. The ship had at least four more hours of work before they had even the slimmest chance of survival. They weren't supposed to encounter the cube for another seven hours. "Begin the arming sequence."

"Aye." Tokkra replied, and started tapping away at his keys. "The quickest I can arm the torpedoes is around 20 minutes."

"Well, you've got eight." Setask replied, whirling back around. The cube got larger and larger on the screen.

"10 minutes." Lillian reported from conn.

Tokkra practically slapped the buttons on his console, fear making his hands clammy and eyes wide.

"8 minutes."

Nem was trembling, hooves clasping to the engineering console, her eyes shut and head bowed.

"6."

Lillian's eyes were filled with tears and her voice shook as she reported the minutes until the Borg would clash with them.

"4."

Doctor Ryant reported sick bay was ready. His voice wasn't steady or empty, like it usually was. He sniffled as he closed the comm line.

"2."

Thiri couldn't figure what to do with his body. He shifted his feet, play with his uniform, sat down and stood back up. His antenna trembled at they rotated round his head.

"20 seconds."

Ensigns on the back consoles joined hands and pressed closer together.

"19."

An engineer sobbed at his station too close to the warp core.

"18."

The sound of the clicking and loading and arming of the torpedoes filled the armory. The arms officer's hands shook as they check weapons

and lined them up for speedy recovery if they were going to get boarded.

"17."

A nurse closed her eyes, and a tear squeezed out to land on the bio bed where a crewmen, not even 30, would die in a few hours.

"16."

Extra crewmembers huddled together under tabled in the mess hall, even though they'd never seen each other before, let alone been intimate enough to cry into each other's shoulders had this not been happening.

"15."

A son had been talking to a mother over comm, but had abandoned her yet again to rush to his station in engineering, where his mother's face would never float before his ever again.

"14."

Twin crewmembers clambered under their bed, but they both couldn't fit. The eldest blocked the younger under the piece of furniture. The youngest wailed, but the oldest blocked her out and sat at the desk instead, ready for her fate.

"13."

A Bajoran fell to his knees and whispered to the profits for the last time.

"12."

A pregnant Alderan crawled in a closet, hoping the Borg wouldn't tear everything apart to find her.

"11."

A crewmember's puppy whined and cried and bundled up in the blanket on the bed.

"10."

The first mother on board clutched her four month old safe, covering his mouth so his cries wouldn't give away their position, should they be boarded.

"9."

A human sang softly in French to his girlfriend as they huddled close together, his voice wavering and full of tears.

"8."

An old Andorian rocked back and forth in his chair in engineering, sadness filling her chest as she looked around at all the young souls that probably wouldn't survive this assault.

"7."

A Vulcan paced back and forth, but his emotions would not be controlled.

"6."

A young woman who had left her ailing mother and sick child behind tapped final words onto a padd. A letter for the fading ones she loved.

"5."

A Tellerite in the armory whispered, "No." over and over again, but the Borg didn't seem to hear. Or maybe they did and just didn't care.

"4."

A joined Trill rested a hand on his belly, thinking of all the lives that would drain out of him besides his own, and that frightened him the most.

"3."

An Andorian trembled under a blanket, but his antenna wouldn't stop roving around in panic.

"2."

Everyone on the bridge stared at the cube on the display screen, and trembled before it.

"1."

Boom.