Chapter 25
Balance of Power
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant
Morphed and elongated stars appeared as sheets of white light as forty Borg Cubes raced towards their target. Traveling far faster than any Borg cube had ever gone, they moved quickly and invisibly towards the Metron home planet. Their upgraded technology only morsels of greater Dalek potential. The Collective, believing these actions a logical choice of its own free will, sought to rid the galaxy of the Metron menace.
-Event Log
-Time to Target : 00:00:30 seconds
-Adjust shield configuration for frontal dampening field
-Prime High-Yield warheads
-Set ship reactors to overcharge
-Self-Preservation Priority 0%
-Assimilation Priority 0%
-Target Destruction Priority 100%
-Countdown to target: Begin
29…
28…
27…
-Detecting subspace probes
-Prepare to engage
Beneath the veil of ordinary space lay subspace, another realm of reality where the Metron probes waited. Their advanced sensors tracking the attack force as it moved closer.
26…
25…
24…
The Metron's despite their long history and advanced technology existed as isolationists, their combat prowess never tested, their tactics never tried. Now within the transwarp stream, chaotic energy sparked and cracked below the cubes. A white ball of energy fought to emerge, attempting to pull itself through from subspace into transwarp, a feat never tried.
23…
22…
21…
White strands of energy danced along the transwarp stream as a 10 km probe birthed from below; its surface a solid white sheet of glimmering power. With a violent discharge, a blinding light connected with the closest Cube. A colossal chunk atomized into nothingness, the rest scattering into oblivion within the transwarp stream, like sand scattering in a fast moving stream.
-Engaging Metron Probe
-Adapt weaponry for transwarp environment
-Isolate Metron shell frequency
Green absorption beams fired from the Borg Cubes in unison, their goal to dissolve the energy barrier surrounding the mechanical probe within. Splashes of green absorption discharges washed over the perfect sphere, it's screen faltering but only for a second. Now a second probe emerged into transwarp, destroying three cubes in a single shot.
-Rotate shield harmonics
-Switch to scatter beam
-Adapt array to frequency 1332.33 Mhz
20…
19…
18…
-Metron frequency isolated
Firing together, modified beams hit the first probe at a precise coordinate, only this time the energy sheath protecting the Metron craft disappeared. For the first time in Metron history, their superior technology failed and the probe promptly lost power. Like a sinking ship of the 21st century, the probe slowly 'sunk' into the transwarp barrier, eventually disappearing from view.
17…
16…
15…
Two more Cubes violently exploded, their shields unable to repel the might of the Metron energy beam originating from the second probe. In addition to beams, the probe activated its dampening field, the same that held Kirk's Enterprise and Gorn vessel a hundred years earlier. But a hundred years ago, the Metron were not facing a Dalek Battle Computer.
14…
13…
12…
Realizing Borg adaption speeds to be inferior, the Battle Computer in unison with the Supreme Dalek switched tactics. Commands carefully uploaded into the Collective triggered an instant response; three cubes rushed forward and smacked into the energy barrier surrounding the Metron probe. Upgraded cube reactors detonated and in a blinding flash, the transwarp conduit disappeared with the surviving cubes thrown into real space. Only six escaped, but the probe had not.
11…
10…
9…
-Approaching outer Metron world
-Launch salvo
-Continue to primary target
Closing at breakneck speed, the cubes launched six energy torpedoes towards a cloaked planetoid on the outskirts of the Metron system. Metron energy dampeners powerful enough to stop a thousand Federation ships throbbed at maximum output, but the Dalek's had adapted, their torpedoes were immune. Warheads of unknown substance and yield smacked into the invisible outer planet. The cubes now millions of kilometers ahead did not pause for theatricality, instead pushing and grinding forward through the ever-increasing dampening field towards their primary target.
8…
7…
6…
-Detecting sixteen cloaked facilities
-target and fire.
More torpedoes launched, the cubes like before sped onward. In the distant rear, now billions of kilometers behind, the first world attacked twisted and fractured. A swirling vortex of matter and antimatter spun into a whirlpool on the surface, material turned to liquid and soon to gas. The surface spun and churned into a siphoning chasm, thousands of miles deep and hundreds wide. The planetoid imploded, taking with it a million screaming Metrons.
5…
4…
3…
Now the second batch of torpedoes struck their sixteen targets, lighting up the solar system like mini-novas, the cloaked energy relays so crucial to the Metron's flashed into trillions of particles before their eyes.
-Target 4th, 5th, 6th, 7th planets
-Launching long-range torpedoes
-Detecting energy spike on Metron Home World
-Launching warheads at primary target
-Set Cube cores for self-destruction
-Ready Nano-Bombs
Torpedos lashed out in all directions, with travel times in the minutes the doomed Metron targets could only watch helplessly as death closed in upon them. At the center of the galaxy, the Supreme Dalek worked harmoniously with the battle computer, their experience against the Time Lords becoming evident. No ordinary Borg attack would ever succeed against the Metron's, in any given circumstance save this one. But the fight was not over, and as the Supreme Dalek identified the massive energy spike from the Metron Home World it knew time was almost up.
-launch remaining warheads at primary target
As the final torpedoes streaked forward, six Metron Probes emerged into real space and collided with the missiles. Brilliant blues and purples filled the color spectrum, energies and frequencies radiated, cosmic ether ripped and matter superheated. The probes were gone, but so too was the cube's missiles. The overwhelming energy spike on the Metron Home Planet reached an unprecedented level and an energy discharge six miles across wiped five of the six remaining cubes from the face of existence. One remained.
Another super-discharge of energy rocketed past the evading Borg cube as it primed its nano-bomb
2…
1…
-Deton...
-Signal lost-
The command never finished, the last remaining cube exploded only a thousand kilometers from the Metron atmosphere, the nano-bomb designed to spread a biomechanical plague atomized before contact. Concerning galactic distances, the bomb missed its target by a 'hair'.
Milky Way - Galactic Center - Dalek Secret Facility
In the middle of the Galaxy the Supreme Dalek stood brooding in anger, but its options were limited. Full-scale war could not begin until the Q perished, for if the Q discovered the full potential of the Dalek war machine, they would surely be killed.
"The attack has failed!" shouted the Supreme Dalek
"Five out of seven planets destroyed, all cloaked facilities destroyed. Eight probes destroyed," commented another.
"Did the Nano-Bomb reach the planet's atmosphere?"
"Unlikely Supreme Dalek," came the Battle Computer.
A human slave scampered forward and gave praise,
"Master, you have done so well. With only forty ships you have managed to destroy a huge chunk of the Metron Empire, and they were not even Dalek ships, just slave ships! You could not have hoped to do-"
"We cannot build our own fleet, we risk revealing our potential." Changing subjects, "Is the abomination awake?"
"Yes. Yes, master, it is awake."
The Supreme Dalek flanked by several others floated into the dripping filth ridden room of the hanging blob of brain and flesh. Chains rattled, and liquid dripped as the spasmodic glob detected their arrival.
"Our attack has failed. We are vulnerable."
Nothing.
"Abomination! Respond."
Nothing.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Then, a partial head stirred on the surface, its face half eaten by another, its eyes long ripped from their sockets.
"If we do not survive, the final sequence will not be initiated. We are your Dalek master's, we are your only hope. Obey!" shrieked the Supreme.
Nothing.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Time is nothing to us! If it is not you, another, if not another, another. We are eternal.
"The psychic super-weapon will be assembled soon. Do not threaten us! We are in C-O-N-T-R-O-LLLLLLLL!"
The soldier waits, we wait. All is on you.
"We will be ready soon, standby for our orders."
Nothing.
"Acknowledge!"
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Nothing.
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Enterprise
The meeting of Captain Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Cienna and Kimball Kinnison could be described as hugs, handshakes, laughs and elation. Scotty who recovered from his wound joined them for dinner as they ate, drank, and talked. Ideas, strategies, and experiences all shared among themselves with Kinnison bringing them each up to speed with his mission in the Imperial Galaxy as well as details surrounding Boskone. Exact details for each counter strategy would come later; only a few items needed immediate attention. The halting of the Imperial invasion so the Dalek could be prioritized and the unbelievable tales of 'John' the marine.
After hours of discussion and social bonding, Kinnison joined Captain Kirk in sickbay to take a look at 'John'. Both would descend into his mind, Kinnison simply carrying Kirk's consciousness along with his, a simple task for a Second Stage Lensman.
The medical bay around the Captain and Lensman faded, blurring in color until only blackness remained. Kirk felt like he was falling, wind swept past his face but his orientation did not seem obvious, he felt unsure, uneasy. More wind, more blackness. Sensing his friend's uneasiness, Kimbal smiled reassuringly, accustomed to the sensation and movement of mind.
"Jim, we are now inside 'John's' memories, it will give us a glimpse of what is going on inside his head."
Now the pair stood in a kitchen, floating dust particles illuminated by sunlight as they passed through. Kirk lifted his hand into the light stream; he felt the heat, warmth. It reminded him of his home in Iowa, Earth. A woman stood in the kitchen talking on the phone, one hand against her ear, the other covering her mouth. To Kirk, she looked familiar; her features were soft, her cheeks soft and… Cienna. My god, that looks like Cienna.
"This is on Earth, 'John's' home… these are subconscious memories." Kinnison paused the memory and looked around, his eyes prying back the layers as he sought to uncover exactly what it was they were witnessing. "Yes, this is his home, or at least he thinks it is his home. Significant brain damage, memory loss. The Dalek's seem to have done a number on him. Or perhaps the Old Ones, I can't tell precisely."
"That woman. She… looks like… No kidding. Of course. Of course 'John' would do anything to save her. He never mentioned this."
"Yes, it seems the Dalek's bioengineered Cienna to look like his wife, with a few upgrades of course. Her name is… " Kinnison seemed to be listening to something not audible to the Captain, "Cindy."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I'm also listening and watching a dozen other memories while we stand here."
Kirk's surprised face coaxed a laugh out of Kimbal, the dream continued as the Captain refocused on the unfolding situation. Then the door opened to the backyard and in walked 'John,' he was carrying some groceries, a big smile on his face as he saw his wife. His eyes were full of life, full of love, not sunken, not dead as they are now.
"Babe? … Babe?" 'John' dropped the grocery bag and rushed over, he put one hand on her stomach, she had a baby bump. The other on her shoulder, he looked as she listened intently into the cell phone. Finally, she dropped it onto the floor; almost fainting 'John' helped her towards a couch in the other room. Both Captain and Lensman followed, watching intently at the unfolding memory.
"She has a rare disease… incurable." commented Kinnison.
"Can they see us?"
"This is just a memory Jim."
"So then why is 'John' looking at me?"
Kimbal paused the images and moved a few feet to take a look from his friend's vantage point. He smiled and tapped Kirk on the shoulder and pointed to the wall, a clock hung eye level with the Captain. Kirk's eyes narrowed and he turned back towards 'John'.
"I could have sworn… he followed me as I moved in front of the clock."
Kinnison offered a skeptical look and rewound the memory a few seconds. Sure enough, 'John' looked at the clock before Kirk had stepped in front of his gaze. Or had he?
"Are you sure his head moved that way a second ago?" Kirk's hesitation and double guessing now caused Kinnison to second guess the direction in which 'John's' eyes pointed before the rewind.
"We are going to skip forward, this is where it all went downhill."
The kitchen and living room were gone, so too was Cindy and the surrounding house. Now a graveyard, cold sleet and gray clouds darkened the sky overhead. It looked to be early spring, leaves had not yet grown on the trees and patches of slush covered the sunken areas of the brownish grass.
Laying in front of the men was a withered and malnourished shell of his former self; 'John' lay beside a gravestone. His green parka flapping furiously against the strong gusts of wind whipping throughout the open cemetery. His jeans were stained and it appeared he had lost a lot of weight. His hand lay on the base of the gravestone, nails no longer maintained, appearing dirty and unhealthy.
[[[ Cindy Whately, 2055-2079]]]
"She didn't make it…"
"No," acknowledged Kinnison. "His memory is scattered, but this is where he was born. She took his name, that is what he knows. We are in Dunwich, Massachusetts."
Kirk looked carefully at their surroundings. Overnourished trees encircled the ancient graveyard, with rolling hills casting pale shadows throughout the landscape. Isolation, desolation, hopelessness best describe this memory. Dilapidated tombstones, broken and unkept lay strewn throughout. The Captain noted the names of the few still standing.
Wilbur Whately 1913-1928
Lavinia Whately 1878-1926
'Old' Noah Whately 1845-1924
A bronze plaque covered in moss and dirt lay beside the row. It read,
[[[
Donated by Miskatonic University 1929, Professor Henry Armitage, Professor Francis Morgan, Professor Warren Rice.
May the brother of Wilbur Whately find peace in the afterlife. May God have mercy on his soul.
]]]
Kirk moved back towards Kinnison, his feet splashing through the shallow puddles.
"Seems 'John's' relatives were buried here. Strange that the one over there," pointing towards the plaque, "did not have a name, perhaps a stillbirth? Medicine must have been… lacking. He slept here, lost everything. Poor guy." Even though this all occurred within 'John's' mind, Kirk still felt a chill run down his spine. So my friend, this is who you are. The Captain took another step, then his eye caught a glimpse of something far off.
"Kim! Look!" Kirk pointed to a dark patch of trees a few hundred feet off. Kim closed the short distance between them and followed the invisible line Kirk's finger drew toward the treeline.
Nothing.
"Just shadows Jim. He doesn't remember anything, he can't have things in his memory he doesn't remember."
"No. No. There were eyes, and a face. Something was there, looking right at me."
Kimbal grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and looked straight at him, his mind peering inside the Captain's, looking back at what he had just seen.
"That's…" now the Lensman looked ominously towards the treeline, "...impossible. There was something there..."
"We are not alone in here."
Rain continued to pour down the necks of both men, but Kim was elsewhere, his mind sweeping the entire spectrum of the dreams and memories.
"No. We are alone."
The sky now cleared and time accelerated, grass greened and trees grew leaves, but 'John' remained. His body deteriorating, alive but barely.
The scenery cut to an alley somewhere in a large city, 'John' sat alone behind a dumpster, his face a craggy mess, he was bleeding from large gashes on his face from frequent fights for food and shelter.
"This is where he lived. In the streets of New York, but this is another Earth than you know Jim. It's bad here, awful." Kim looked around, his eyes peering through the walls of the memories and into others, revealing to him the true extent of destruction and filth sweeping the city. "The military often conscripted homeless and forced them to work without pay; they lived in barracks, like slaves."
Fast forward, 'John' now laced up his black leather boots and green armor. He sat on a shuttle flying towards Mars, twenty other conscripts sat uneasily in their seats. Unlike in the current time, where the armor is a tattered and tarnished mess, here it looked pristine and unused.
"He doesn't seem nervous at all," commented Kirk as he stepped closer and stared directly into the now sunken eyes of his friend. "How long was he on the street?"
"He doesn't remember."
Now the scenery changed yet again, flashing warning lights illuminated dark hallways and dead bodies littered the ground.
"This is Phobos,"
'John' pressed himself against a wall, a mutated something lay at his side, evidently killed by the Marine. What Kirk and Kinnison saw now was the hellish nightmare that 'John' fought through, the turmoil and destruction that made him Doom. For the next several hours, Kirk and Kinnison watched as endless hordes of beasts from another dimension flowed into the base. Blistering fire from machine guns, plasma guns, shotguns and all manner of weapon rattled and overwhelmed the two men's senses. A living nightmare of flesh, fire, and blood.
In the final memory, 'John' sat in the corner of a room, laughing hysterically as he scrolled through the Necronomicon. His mind had snapped, the Dalek and Old One's plan to chisel away his humanity worked. Now with the help of whispers from beyond, the untold stories of the old book translated easily into his brain.
The memory promptly ended at that moment.
"This is where the Vortex blew, where the Time Destroyer detonated, according to Cienna," commented Kinnison while each man now stood in a white room.
"Where are we now?" asked the Captain.
"We are between his memories, consciousness, and subconsciousness. In a safe place where we can chat inside his mind." Kinnison smiled but noticed a look of dread on the Captain's face. "Jim? Jim, what's the matter?"
Kirk looked stone-faced, his eyes looking just past Kinnison's shoulder,
"Kim, if 'John' doesn't know we are here… why is he looking at us through the wall?"
The Lensman spun around and instantly threw everything he had into a mental block. The white walls blew outward in all directions, but 'John's' face remained. His eyes fixated, his stature growing by leaps and bounds, sky rocketing above and below. Blackness now surrounded them and somehow, incomprehensible to the Lensman they began to fall. Deep down into the pit of madness, horror, and utter nothingness.
Despite the Second Stage Lensman's superb mental block, 'John's' voice oozed into the Captain and Lensman consciousness. They heard him, felt him, 'John's' face seemed a hundred feet tall, growing still.
I was a man once,
Ghostly images began to move and swirl about, old memories surfacing and fading from view. As 'John' spoke, the images brightened in intensity, swirling like a tornado.
A husband,
A father,
Now I am something else,
'John's' head continued to grow, now the size of a building looking down upon the shrinking men. Eyes glowing red with fire belching ambers; the face was mutating and deforming into something awful. Kinnison fought desperately to maintain control of the situation, but no matter how hard he pushed, he could not fight it. 'John's' face started to move forward, his mouth opened but no human teeth existed in the voluminous cavern of darkness, just rows of razor-sharp daggers.
"John! We want to help you!" Pleaded Kirk, his hands stretched outward.
We all have our own problems,
Flashing in the whirlwind came terrible images of routine beatings at the hands of street cops in New York, and the robbing of stores for money and food. Burning barrels beneath bridges and alleys to fight off the bitter cold.
Our own issues,
"John, they are evil incarnate. They must be stopped."
They protect me,
They protect her,
"If you kill us 'John', what will you tell Cienna!?" shouted Kirk as he covered his head from the impending attack,
The Deceiver stole her from you!
Wait, what? Kirk did not immediately understand, but something else spoke in the darkness, from below, far below in the bottomless pit.
"Something else IS in here Jim!" Shouted Kinnison as a whirlwind of screaming and chaos suddenly filled their ears. "I… I am going to kill them. I'm going to send a mental bolt," shouted Kinnison, not sounding entirely sure.
"Noooo!" Shouted the giant head, withdrawing its razor attack. "No! I need them!" John's eyes looked downward, past the two floating men and into the blackness. His expression now desperate, "Do not hurt them!"
"Kim, can you kill them?" asked Kirk, his frantic voice indicative of the insanity they found themselves in
"I do not know, but I should try."
"Should you?"
Kim stopped and thought for a moment. Kirk's hard expression burning a hole into his mind,
"No.. no. It's a trick. We need to leave now!"
Suddenly, 'John's' head burst open and from it a million mouths and eyes squirming and writhing on disgusting tentacles, a horror of horrors launched forward, both men jumped and instinctively covered their faces.
Then.
Kirk and Kinnison both found themselves standing in sickbay, exactly where they had been when they decided to enter the soldier's mind.
McCoy stood watching, surprised to see them looking around, seemingly confused.
"That's it? That was less than a second."
"We're out," commented the surprised Captain, ignoring McCoy's remark for the time being.
"Yes, I pulled us out. He won't realize this happened. We were figments of a dream to him."
Both Captain and Lensman exited sickbay, their conversation a mix of verbal and telepathy as they made their way to Luke.
"Jim, we need to strike at the Dalek's soon, a super weapon needs to be constructed."
"Agreed. We need to locate them."
"Yes, the war will end soon between you and the Empire. Their distribution channel for bounty hunters is in ruins, their industrial hub destroyed. I didn't have time to get the Death Star though. That I regret."
"I know."
Kinnison paused and smiled, he had shared everything in its entirety with Kirk upon returning, but it was nice to speak to someone on the same wavelength after almost a year in complete isolation. Cienna and Spock also participants in the mind swap, worked numbers to try and determine a form of super weapon capable of taking out a Dalek base in a single swoop.
"Jim, if the Metron's can share anything with us, any tidbits of information."
"I don't think we can coax them into that, they are stubborn. We also can't expose the Dauntless, not even to protect Betazed. We need to keep it hidden for a final attack on the Dalek's."
"Assuming they don't know about it already. Cienna said their sensors are formidable."
Discussion continued for several minutes as the two men made their way to see Luke in conditioning room three. Before entering Kinnison stopped Kirk and shared another series of thoughts.
"Boskone, the enemy of my Galactic Patrol is running rampant. This IS big Jimmy."
"Is it possible there is another level of control beyond the Ploorians? Or are these just actors caught up in the Dalek time warp and were accidentally strewn across the universe like you?"
"I do not know. The Arisians, the creators of the Galactic Patrol and Lensman did not tell us. They were clear the war was over when Ploor was destroyed."
Kirk nodded, all the while sifting through the treasure trove of knowledge deposited into his mind when Kinnison arrived. Who exactly are we dealing with? What threat do they pose?
"If all Boskone wants is control, if their ideology is dictatorship, that the strong survive... that is a threat. But. Not an existential threat to our survival as a species. And if the remnants of their organization is now scattered throughout, they can be swiftly dealt with once the Dalek's are killed."
"Hrmmm. Don't underestimate these people Jim. Yes their ideology is different, but they'll kill you or I as quickly as you'd kill a stormtrooper. They don't kill for killing sake, but they would kill to continue their expansion and goals and so on and so forth."
"They remind me of the old Klingons I once knew, back in my time."
Kinnison scanned the Captain's memories and smiled,
"Yes actually, a little bit. I suppose the difference between the old Klingons and Boskone hierarchy is with the Klingons; there existed a clear line of sight between cause and effect. A planet or people subjugated here or there could be traced back to the Klingon government." Kinnison continued to scan the Captain's mind for old run-ins with his favorite former foe. Making mental notes as he crafted his story. "With Boskone, you'd never know if it was them, or just some local problems, or perhaps a new entity or influencer. They might have fifteen or twenty different channels. Politics, drugs, prostitution, gun running, trade… everything. I once took a year to infiltrate a drug-running ring, just to find out the shot callers were on the other side of the galaxy communicating by a telepathic signal. It's a colossal effort, and I had millions of other Lensman working against them as well. The Arisians who were billions of years old, whose minds could travel the Universe and beyond helped us, steering our actions in the right direction."
"Where are they now? The Arisians?"
"I suspect they are not able to travel beyond their own universe, the Dalek's making mince meat of the temporal planes."
"But you. You're here…"
"I came mechanically, through a hyperspatial tube, so, I suppose it's still possible but I do not know. That is how Boskone came, they were in the tube with me. They must have been."
The door to the exercise room hissed open; Luke sat on a raised platform surrounded by a railing. His fighter pilot attire switched to a black outfit, the same worn against Vader aboard the Death Star in another future. The two men entered and stopped at the edge of guardrail, the young man sat cross-legged on the ground, his eyes closed and demeanor calm.
After a few seconds Luke opened his eyes and slowly rose to his feet, he smiled gently and nodded towards the Lensman.
"Luke Skywalker, meet Kimball Kinnison." Luke offered his hand and Kim graciously accepted it. As they shook Luke poured over the Lensman with the Force, searching and probing his destiny, past, future. He felt the sureness, the incorruptible nature of the mind. A Jedi's mind easily if he so chooses. Same as Kirk.
Kinnison smiled warmly but did not push too hard with a mind probe. He knew Luke possessed the ability to use the Force much as Vader had, and did not want to trigger the Force as a threat.
"Nice to meet you Kimball,"
"Likewise,"
Kirk motioned Luke towards a monitor along the wall and switched it on,
"Luke, this just came in from Starfleet Command, I think you need to see this."
Luke viewed the security footage carefully, his eyes alert to the significance of the intrusion. Darth Maul and Boba Fett slashing and blasting their way through the Tokyo facility. The last image was Director Sloan teleporting away before the video went blank in the subsequent explosion.
"That is a Sith. I am not sure who though. Not Vader.
"No." quipped Kinnison quickly.
Luke eyed the Lensman before continuing.
"The other is Boba Fett, a bounty hunter from my galaxy. Who did they grab in the cell?"
"Shunor, a currency trader. Apparently from the Gamma Quadrant according to Starfleet Intelligence records." Kirk asked Luke if he knew the feline, hoping she may have originated from the Imperial galaxy. Unfortunately Luke shook his head, unaware of who she was.
"Kimball, do you know Darth Vader?" This question from Luke created a slight hesitation in the Lensman. A flurry of questions and probable answers streamed through his brain.
Do Luke and Vader know one another?
Are they old friends?
Are they related?
Do all Force users have a connection?
Does he already know and is testing me?
Possibly… to all the above.
"We had a run in, on Outland Transit Station." As Kimball spoke, he noticed Luke staring at him, almost through him. Perhaps he is using the Force, can he read my mind? No. I do not think so. Not without me knowing.
"I glad you are alright. James tells me you have quite the mind, could you share your experience with me?"
"Certainly." replied the Lensman. He figured lying or hiding events would be a wrong first step in their new relationship. In an instant it was all over, Luke stood blinking as the unexpected surge of memories flushed into his mind. He saw the battle, the near fight to the death aboard Outland, the hesitation and then eventual reluctance to kill his father.
"I think it's time I teach you a few things about lightsabers, come."
Luke, Kirk and Kinnison stepped onto the raised platform where Luke had been meditating a few minutes earlier. On a small table lay two lightsabers, he picked them up, tossing one to Kirk.
"Jim, these are set on sparing mode. The intensity has been brought down ninety-nine percent, if the blade touches you, it will just leave a small burn. Jedi use this to practice."
Kirk studied it for a moment then pressed the button, a hiss and a blue blade of energy hummed before the captain's eyes. Luke smiled and ignited his own green saber, he felt if he could teach the two men how they operate, they may be ready for any future run-ins with Maul or his father.
Kirk's eyes wandered up and down the blade, the handle, and then to his opponent.
Then.
Lunging forward he smacked hard into Luke's saber, energy crackled and both fought to maintain their balances. Disengaging, Kirk sidestepped and continued his attack. Luke had never witnessed such strange and awkward swipes and footwork, they seemed almost comedic.
Shoving hard, Luke pressed the Captain back, left, right, up, down, the lightsaber came at all angles, but to Luke's surprise, each and every attack was parried or avoided. The captain, seemingly floundering among his comedic and "overacted" actions, continued the fight.
"You fight well captain," commented Luke as their sabers connected again and again. But soon the precision and training of the Jedi became evident, Kirk yelped as the green saber singed his shirt, then arm, and soon Kirk retracted the blade of his weapon.
"I guess I need practice,"
"You did well, better than I expected."
Kirk smiled but there was something behind the smile, he did not like losing, he did not believe in it. Taking a moment to prepare himself again he reignited the blade and faced Luke.
"One more round."
Luke nodded and reignited, both looked at each other intently, no more smiles or chatty behavior. Luke could feel the tension through the Force; Kirk wanted to win. Same as before, Kirk's attack started off with a lunge, only this time, embarrassingly he tripped and lost the lightsaber from his grip. It deactivated and rolled to a stop a few feet from Luke.
"Woops." Kirk half-chuckled and walked over to pick it up, Luke snickered and lowered his saber to his side as he waited for the Captain.
"Have to be careful Jim, sometimes the handle can get-"
WOOSH!
Luke blinked, he felt a burning sensation in his stomach, it had happened so fast his brain barely processed the events. Upon bending down for his saber, Kirk had angled it upward and ignited it from the ground; the blue saber passing into the Jedi's exposed stomach. Kirk and Luke's eyes met, a slow smile crept along the Captain's mouth as he withdrew the blade and stood up. Luke felt strangely confused, had the captain purposely dropped the lightsaber?
Kinnison burst into a hearty laugh and walked over and patted Jim on the shoulder,
"Good god you hate losing don't you Jim."
Luke deactivated his saber, trying to hide his bemused smile, the Captain had pulled a crafty trick, so wholly unexpected he had not anticipated it.
"Give it a go Kim," said Kirk passing him the saber.
Accepting the blue lightsaber, the Lensman nodded at Luke before moving to the opposite side of the platform. He would not use his telepathic power, this was purely physical practice, a workout.
Jedi and Lensman squared off, the fighting utterly different to that of the starship captain. Kinnison's power of perception allowed for precise and detailed knowledge of all movement, he could fight with his eyes closed as comfortable as if open. Compared to Luke's Force power, it was more precise and consistent. Whereas the Force allowed for pre-cognition, knowing something before it occurred. But this did not always prove perfect; sometimes the mind did not register what the Force told them. Sometimes mistakes were made. Two different powers now met in clashes of blade and will.
Immediately Luke came forward and attacked, sensing the decades of battle under the Lensman belt, the ultimate hardened mind lavished in combat. Unbreakable.
Kimball slashed forward, their sabers meeting and holding their positions. Luke did not want to use the Force for extra power, but he sensed if he did not, the much stronger Kinnison would overwhelm him. As if sensing the inevitable, like a King Cobra, Kinnison's left hand snapped forward, grabbing Luke's arm in a vice-like grip. Now the men wrestled for control of Luke's arm, all the while pushing against one another with their blades.
Energy sparked, swords crackled.
With a push of Force energy, Kinnison staggered backward but regained his balance. Luke had given him a taste of his power, something the Lensman knew all too well from Vader. Narrowing his focus, Kinnison planned a final attack, one he felt could trip the Jedi up. As Kimball rushed forward he struck wildly, the blow easily caught by Luke's lightsaber, but Kinnison's attack did not end. His right hand released the saber and came through Luke's guard, connecting into his left shoulder with a solid fist.
The Jedi reeled backward, barely in time to see the blue-blade coming straight for his head. Instinctively, Luke called upon the Force for guidance. In a fraction of a second, he reached out and deactivated his opponent's weapon. Kinnison's 'final' strike failed, his saber blade withdrawing just before connecting with Luke's exposed head. As his strike fizzled, Luke's green saber came up and connected with the Lensman's torso, "killing" him.
"Nice trick," commented Kirk, nodding his head in approval.
Luke wiped a bit of sweat from his brow and looked at his new friends. Despite their competitiveness, they were honest, genuine people. Trustworthy to the very end.
"The Dauntless could replicate enough of these for everyone on this ship," commented Kinnison.
Luke's ears perked,
"Replicate?"
"Yes, my ship has advanced technology in every degree, I could make a lightsaber for everyone. We have phasers already but… I don't see why it would hurt? Might be useful in close combat."
Twenty minutes later the men stood in front of a small pile of different lightsabers spread across the table. Kirk picked one up and inspected it.
"How do we adjust the color,"
"Here," Luke adjusted a few items in the base and Kirk ignited it, yellow, brighter than his gold shirt but close enough.
"I'll stick with blue," commented Kinnison.
"I'll need a lot more practice. Hopefully I'll never have to use it," Jim saying this more to himself than anyone else.
"Your friend is coming,"
Kirk looked over at Kinnison,
"What?"
The door to the exercise facility hissed open and all three men turned their heads. 'John' stood in the doorway, flanked by Cienna and Bones. Kirk's heart skipped a beat as the soldier entered, his eyes zeroing in on each of them. Bones held a medical kit in his hands; he shared a concerned look with Kirk while moving to the side of the room. Cienna's beautiful smile radiated outward, but her eyes were narrow, worried. She had sat on the bedside for the better part of the day, talking and soothing the soldier. Bones had objected to him leaving sickbay, but after a gentle chat with Cienna he had relented.
Captain Kirk briskly walked to the edge of the platform and smiled,
"John. Welcome back. You saved us. Thank you."
"I am just glad I could help, I must have taken a few hits, my memory is vague."
Luke sensed confusion, anger, guilt, and many other emotions swirling in the mind of the soldier, but the evil he detected before was not present. Likewise, Kinnison probed the surface of 'John's' consciousness, he read no deception.
"What are you three doing?" asked 'John' making his way onto the platform to join them. Each of the men glanced at one another before clearing their throats.
"Oh, just practicing with a weapon, not as effective as a phaser or blaster though," said Kirk, downplaying its significance. He glanced over at Cienna who shared a concerned look with him. "John, I'd like you to meet my friend Kimball Kinnison, he's helping us in the war effort."
Kinnison extended his hand, 'John' slowly accepted the gesture; his dull eyes unwavering as they met the Lensman. Beyond the dead-blackness, Kinnison felt as if someone else watched him.
"And 'John', do you remember Luke?"
The soldier turned and shook the Jedi's hand, a slight nod of the head and he released his grip.
"A little, I remember you helped save the ship or something. Sorry, I took a few knocks. I had a few strange dreams as well, sorry guys. Not feeling like myself." Glancing down at the pile of lightsabers, he picked one up. "Is… is this what you were holding in engineering? How does it work?"
"Yes," he said calmly, reaching for his own blade on his hip. "It's an ancient Jedi weapon, around long before blasters. The tradition has been passed down from-"
"-From generation to generation. Since the beginning," interrupted John, almost ignoring Luke in the process.
Now in the glimmers of the Force, Luke felt something, boiling just beneath, bubbling like a cauldron ready to erupt. Kinnison's mind probe also felt strange, no longer clear, as if experiencing interference, like a radio antenna in a tunnel.
Whoosh! The blade ignited.
Luke's heart beat quicker, a blue energy blade did not emerge. Instead this one was pure black, he did not know how but the color had changed. The dark blade cast shadows across the soldier's scarred and grizzly face, his dead eyes staring intently at the light. Shadows and images not representative of the room he currently occupied flashed across his glassy eyes.
"Maybe we should call it a day?" chirped Bones from the corner nervously.
Kirk wiped his dry mouth, we have to keep him on our side, have to keep him with us, a friend, an ally.
Agreed, replied Kinnison telepathically.
"I have seen hell. There was no order, no rules, no turns. The best practice is to jump in." Twisting the blade in his hand, he brought it down to a guard position.
Kirk brought his blade to bare and readied himself. Luke and Kinnison ignited, all four men stood in a circle ten feet apart. Kinnison stared intently into 'John's' eyes, the soldier returning the glare, but there existed more. The deadeyes were pulling Kim in, tugging at his mind. Enticing him to join the terrorized soul, deep down where THEY waited.
He knows, he knows who I am. He knows we were in his memories.
Kinnison blinked and for a moment, a fraction of a millionth of a second, 'John's' face did not exist. Only a monstrous perversion of life, a disgusting slop of flesh and oozing somethingness. Then it disappeared, as fast as it had arrived.
Did anyone see that?
Luke felt a surge of danger and prepared himself,
Kirk took a deep breath,
"Every man for himself."
AS IT ALWAYS WAS, IS, AND EVER SHALL BE
Now the black saber began to burn brighter, somehow, some way, the power started dialing upwards. Two percent, three, four, five.
Kirk noticed the throbbing power, despite 'John' not touching or knowing how to operate the internal mechanism, something adjusted the power upward.
Kinnison sent a mental command to both Luke and Kirk,
If this goes south, we all attack him at once, I'll hit him with a bolt god couldn't stop. Jim you swipe for the legs, Luke, you take the head.
Wait, ordered Kirk telepathically. He needed to say something.
"The best practice is to jump right in, to fight." Kirk held his gaze on 'John', then turning his head towards Cienna. "Won't you join us?"
A noticeable look of concern overcame 'John's' lifeless expression, he did not like this. Kirk read the expression perfectly and continued,
"Have to fight. Have to jump in. That's what you said 'John', that's what you wished for."
Whoosh! Cienna ignited a fifth lightsaber, its blue blade casting her dress in a pale glow. She positioned herself between Kirk and John, her eyes darting back and forth, readying herself.
"This setting," Kirk carefully increased the power-output of the lightsaber to match John's "...may kill us. But. That is the cost of true practice. True ability."
Hesitation. 'John's' mind reeled, he did not want Cienna harmed. What DO I want?
TO RIP THEM APART
No. No these are my friends. They fight for good, they fight for all humanity. Like I did. For a long frightful second, everyone stood still, waiting for the first move. It never came. Demons clawing and festering began to subside, he calmed and deactivated his lightsaber. He offered it to Kirk but the captain refused,
"No 'John'. When the time comes, you will need that to protect us. Thanks."
The soldier's eyes look downcast, a terrible expression of sadness on his face, he felt awful.
"I'm starving 'John', want to join me?" interjected Cienna. Her voice as soft as down-pillows, capable of soothing any man's ears. He turned and followed her out of the room, glancing back only once to nod at the doctor standing against the wall. As soon as the door hissed closed, Luke ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, Kinnison took a deep breath, each man looking at Kirk. Joining them on the platform was Bones, furious and red-faced.
"You are taking a big risk Jim!"
"The risk is greater if he becomes our enemy!" countered Kirk.
"He's on a razor's edge. If he turns on us. If he...finds out…" Bones was careful not to insinuate what he was sure the others already knew, but despite this, Kirk's relationship with Cienna reeked of danger.
"Bones… We have to keep him on our side. Our friend." No one said anything, each sensing Kirk was not finished. "Gentlemen. He is the key to keep back the Old Ones. Cienna and the Dalek's were to use him to open the gateway, to let them out. Imagine if he felt there was nothing to live for? He's this dangerous as a friend, imagine him an enemy?"
"Jim." Kinnison seemed to be in deep thought, contemplating future events in his head. "There may be a way to keep him on our side, but, not have him near her or us. You said she was to trick him into opening the Gate. Isn't it dangerous to keep them together?"
"Perhaps. What's your idea?"
"He needs a mission, something off this ship and away from Cienna. But something to keep him occupied, isolated, but fighting for her cause."
"Yes." Luke piped up, thinking. "The Sith who attacked your installation with Boba Fett will be turned against you and her. The elite stormtroopers failed, it's only a matter of time."
"Send him to find the Sith? Kim, didn't you say the Empire will withdraw?" asked the Captain.
"Well they should, at least I believe they'll have too once we take care of the Dalek and turn our attention towards them. But in the meantime, it would get him out of here."
Kirk nodded along, the plan seemed reasonable.
"OK, so he needs a ship…"
"Han and I will take him aboard the Falcon. I sense there is more to come with this Sith. John will need my help."
"I see. But what if he won't cooperate?" asked Kirk.
"He will." Luke's eyes were faroff, thinking of his next words. He sensed the connection between Kirk and Cienna, and he did not want to startle his new ally, but he could not avoid this vision. "I see many things. Many futures. Cienna dies by this Sith's hands. John must seek him out."
"What? Dies?"
"One possible future."
Kirk's face now hard as stone, staring right into Luke's eyes.
"Not THIS future. Not on my watch."
Milky Way - Alpha Quadrant - Betazed
Only minutes away, seventy-eight Dominion ships rocketed towards Betazed. Vorta Administrator Weyoun aboard the lead dreadnought received the last instructions of his lifetime.
:Executive Command:
:Founder Homeworld:
-Ignore the Federation fleet, fly directly into the planet at maximum speed. Your life is to serve us-
Little did Weyoun know, the Founder's were now dead, wholly obliterated. The rocky surface of their world devastated by Imperial orbital bombardment moments ago. The final command nothing more than a ruse by Grand Admiral Thrawn to decimate the last of the telepaths.
Weyoun read the command twice just to be sure, he blinked and smiled softly. His life was meaningless, he knew that.
"Long live the Dominion. Long live the Founders."