Chapter 35

Only The Strong Survive

Imperial Galaxy - Coruscant

A half-year is considered a long time when separated from your family, friends, and supporters. For six months, Princess Leia and Mon Mothma held the Rebellion together, pulling and maneuvering political favors and strings to stay relevant in a rapidly changing galaxy. Evolving in a way that they never expected, morphing into something opposite of what they knew the Emperor wanted. Capitalism, not socialism flourished in the outer worlds, spreading inward, the idea of building and creating wealth and power seemed infectious. Little in the way of support flowed from the resources of governments and organizations to the fledgling Rebellion now, with their navy deployed to the Milky Way, they lacked little military or clandestine capability. Planets and governments once loyal to the cause, recoiled as they did not want to upset their customers. Years ago, the concern would have been angering the Empire, but with the Imperial navy scattered and occupied, greed and all its consequences grew.

Initially, Leia and Mothma were hesitant to accept the Hutt's proposal to overthrow or perhaps counteract the Empire. Unfortunately as months wore on and resources dwindled, they saw little chance of exerting any influence in the coming years if they did not remain at the forefront of change. Reluctantly, they joined the Hutt's idea of overthrowing the capital government, the key question remained. When?

When is now.'

Sitting in a small booth in a cheap sports bar in the bowels of Coruscant, the two rebellion leaders sat quietly, drinking, and waiting. In the surrounding district, disguised as locals, hid the last of the Rebellion soldiers. Loyalists to the end, they knew this mission could and most likely would be their last.

In the restaurant, TV's played the latest sports events and news topics, the Princess sipped her cold drink and her eyes narrowed in on those coming and going.

"The Hutts said our contact would be here,"

Smoke from various forms of cigarette or foreign substances waffled up into the air and crept along the ceiling. Through the gloomy atmosphere and low light, Leia eyed each facial expression.

Mothma, not a fighter but a political activist did not share the same clandestine edge of the princess and relied heavily on her to manage the coming hours. The Hutts had successfully attacked the Deathstar's production complex and most likely, according to the best minds in the rebellion had destroyed the Kuat Drive Yards. Mothma and Leia knew they needed to stay relevant, and so could not pass up the opportunity presented to them. An overthrow of the capital, with Mothma reclaiming the Senate seemed to be the best plan. Emperor Palpatine and Vader were known to be gone, and so with troops loyal to the Hutts and the rebellion, they set their eyes upon the main Senate chamber.

"Princess…" a young man approached their table, small, thin, he looked like a teenager rather than a crew member or operator of the Hutt's gang. Leia looked up slowly, trying to maintain her low profile. "I am Wiseman. Have your team-"

"Tell your boss to come see me, I don't deal with errand boys," she said cooly, interrupting the young man and returning to her drink and small chatter with Motha. Wiseman's face contorted in anger and he grabbed hold of the Princess's wrist. Despite his young age, his determination to be 'top dog' existed live and well. Leia tried to pull away but could not, he came down to her level, grinning like an anxious shark.

"I am the top dog." The two were nose to nose, but Wiseman being too preoccupied with showing his dominance did not notice the sharp fork being snatched by her other hand. Plunging deep into his shoulder blade, Wiseman reeled back in agony, releasing his grip and scampering towards the door.

"Leia!" hissed Motha, "Was that a good idea?"

Taking another sip and placing the fork down on the table, Leia knew the Hutts needed them severely for this operation, with their political ties in the capital, they could garner support quickly once things unfolded. As Leia reassured Mothma, she noticed her leader and friend looking towards the doorway, a look of concern across her face. Glancing towards the door, the princess instantly recognized the shape in the dim light.

"Teemar..."

The colossal Romulan stalked towards them, easily pushing patrons aside, Wiseman in tow, still holding his injured shoulder.

"Princess Leia…" chuckled Teemar as he approached the table. He towered above them like a bag of wet rocks; muscle hidden by layers of fat shifted and moved as he stopped before them. "How nice to see you."

Leia looked him over, and then towards Wiseman who stood defiantly behind him.

"I see your dog didn't run too far,"

Teemar let loose a hearty laugh, his belly jiggling as he glanced menacingly over his shoulder to his young peon.

"Oh, yes, I am sorry about the young pup. I'll make sure he doesn't treat you like that again."

Lightning quick and as strong as a piston, Teemar's hand snapped outward and grabbed young Wiseman's neck. He pulled him forward to face the princess and Mothma, the teenager doing everything he could to break the grip of the hotdog sized fingers and catcher's mitt palm.

"Wiseman, you do not treat royalty like this… do you know that?" Teemar's words oozed out of his mouth, sweat already forming on his forehead started its slow crawl towards his neck. "There are consequences you know…" Patrons around the bar paid little attention, down so low in the bowels of society on Coruscant, roughhousing was commonplace.

Wiseman stopped struggling, perhaps sensing a savage beating. He immediately concentrated on the Romulan's grip and arm. He brought his hand up high and came down as hard as he could on the elbow joint. As he came down, Teemar wrenched him forward and his basketball sized head came nose to nose with the adolescents face.

"Do you think you can challenge me? Fool!"

Wiseman threw a punch that connected squarely on the jawline of Teemar. His head barely moved, a menacing smile clearly visible as he looked back towards Leia and Mothma.

"Ladies, you'll have to excuse this kid, he will never do this again." Leia's face changed to grave concern, she did not like the young man but felt he was only learning the ways of the underground and did not want anything to happen to him besides a stern talking.

Turning back towards Wiseman, Teemar rose to full height and at the same time lifted his underling off the ground, now coughing and wheezing as he fought desperately for air. Teemar's knee plowed into his stomach, the sickly sound conveying broken internal organs and bone. Mothma jumped at the brutal attack and pushed herself further into the bench seat. Dark blood pooled out of Wiseman's mouth as he fought for consciousness. Teemar shoved him backward, causing him to careen into a table and chair a few feet away.

He never moved again.

"Now, Princess, Mothma… where were we?" His cholesterol-filled finger running down the side of Leia's face as he pulled up a chair to their table. "Ah yes, your team. It's too small. You do not have enough people for this."

Mothma's eyes locked with Teemar's, she wondered how he could know that. Rebel teams hidden within this district should not have been known to him or the Hutts. Unwavering, his glassy eyes moved between both women, utterly sure of his own abilities, he feared nothing from them. He had only one fear, letting down his boss.

"We have enough, the guards in the Senate chamber are almost non-existent," murmured Mothma, still shocked at the fate of Wiseman.

"I should have been more clear. I do not have enough to take on the main government building where the Imperial Command operates. You will have to split your rebels into two groups."

"What!" Hissed Leia, her face flushed red and fists clenched. "We were told by the Hutts that we only had to take care of the chamber and that you people would take care of the rest!" Trying to keep her voice down, she could not help but feel a sense of danger, a last-second change could cost them everything.

She jabbed her finger into the arm of Teemar,

"You or the Hutts screwed up. We were told in the messages you would have five hundred soldiers to rush the command building." As the Princess leaned in, Mothma could not believe the attitude her younger friend displayed.

Teemar waved off her concerns with a dismissive hand,

"It is now or never. I have the power stations under my control. I can cut the power, but only you can storm the buildings. We cut the power in thirty minutes."

Leia and Mothma looked at one another, both displaying a nervousness and sense of excitement. If the plan worked, then all their work and sacrifice would have paid off. Both missed their companions who left for the other galaxy, Leia missed Han more than ever.

If only Han and Luke were here...

"Teemar, we burned those drugs you know... the crates and boxes you brought us. We know it is you who is supplying the outer worlds."

The Romulan's eyes narrowed at the comment,

More resourceful than I thought...

"We are the same Princess. We want to overthrow the government. We want to bring back the old system. Where people could be free."

Ignoring his remark, Leia gulped down the last of her drink and discreetly cocked her blaster hidden under her robe.

"Thirty minutes," she said coolly.

Anger bubbled inside the Romulan,

"I could kill you in a second."

"I know. But I thought you wanted to beat me."

No one said another word for a long moment, then Teemar pulled himself to his feet, the table shifting and glasses clacking. He looked at both women and smiled,

"Long live the Republic."

Mothma and Leia slid out of their seats, Leia trying to shove Teemar as she passed but the immovable Romulan stood fast. Instead, she ended up pushing herself out of the way, and he looked down upon her devilishly, his eyes shining in the dull light. Moving quickly towards the exit, both Rebel leaders stopping for a second to look at the dead Wiseman, still laying on the floor in a pool of dark blood. Teemar twisted around and looked at both women exit the establishment, a grin forming along his huge face.

"That is why you are still alive Princess. To fully appreciate your defeat," murmured the Romulan.

As the two exited, Teemar felt his ultra-wave receiver buzz, and he looked down at the message,

[[

Emergency Meeting

Ramoose Building - 232 Floor, Penthouse 8

Come Alone

]]

After twenty minutes, Teemar entered the dark room of the skyscraper. Overlooking the sprawling Coruscant, its fifty-foot bay windows reflected the city life far below. As he walked into the room, he saw two figures standing at the windows chatting, but that is not all. Against the dark walls he felt eyes staring at him, judging him,

"Teemar come quickly."

Quickening his pace, he moved towards the windows, and as he drew closer, the men standing became instantly recognizable.

Kirk… and Spock…

The lights from the sky and other buildings provided just enough light to see their faces, Teemar stopped in front of them and nodded to each.

"Your plan is working. Very good. Doctor McCoy's work to resuscitate you from the Dalek weapon was not in vain. I hate when he wastes time," said Evil-Kirk without smiling or displaying any emotion whatsoever. "There is a change of plan. The Virus approaches this planet." Evil-Kirk turned away and faced the large window, Teemar standing quietly behind him with Evil-Spock to his side, the black lens glowing as he communicated with operators across the planet. "How many power stations can you shut off?"

Teemar took a moment to think, the plan had called for eight, but he controlled more.

"Fifteen."

Evil-Kirk spun around, his face savage.

"Not good enough. Lower your mind screen."

As he did so, like a gate holding back flood water, he felt a tremendous surge of voices and flurry inside his brain. Evil-Kirk raised his arm and snapped his fingers towards the dark walls. No longer displaying a single black lens, but two, Each strapped to the same wrist on separate bands. They glowed and pulsed as the footfalls of sauropods clumped forward. Teemar turned his head and out of the shadows came living dragons, otherwise known as Overlords of Delgon. Fifteen feet tall, walking on their hind legs, their T-Rex skulls and long whipping tales chomped and slobbered, and in his mind he felt them. Scratching at his memories and plans, he grabbed his head and screamed in pain. They dug in, pulling and prodding all that they needed to complete the new mission. After a few seconds of mental anguish, they released him and returned to the darkness of the penthouse suite.

"Wha… what is going on?" Asked the exasperated Teemar, hunched over and holding his legs with his hands.

"A fleet of infected ships approaches Coruscant. This planetary shield is inefficient. We are going to install a new one. When your team cuts the power, we will cut the stations across the entire planet and link our new shield to the power grid. Do not worry, the Rebels will find themselves in the same quagmire you orchestrated for them. The internal cameras are set to record their entrance despite the power cut." Reported Evil-Spock matter of fact. His Lens glowed as he spoke, able to communicate by mind and speech at the same time. "The Youth Imperial Class is waiting for the rebels entrance, and will be killed by the Overlords as soon as the walls are breached. Their deaths will be broadcast galactically, and the Rebels will be blamed. As Captain Kirk has already said. Your work is satisfactory."

Teemar looked out the window and towards the Imperial Command building where he had organized the junior imperial class to be present. Consisting of five-hundred children between the ages of 7 and 10, he knew that if the Rebels could be blamed for their deaths, all political will would evaporate for their cause.

Evil-Spock began the countdown to the power cut,

"Ten seconds...9...8...7...6….5...4...3…"

Evil-Kirk pointed with his finger towards an Overlord, his lens flaring wildly as he managed the plan. "Teemar... this is your plan. The Rebels better rush in or you are as dead as the children."

A lump the size of an orange slid down the Romulan's throat. Despite being the best goon in the galaxy, he was only that. A goon. A goon's goon.

Power generators cut and the vast and sprawling metropolitan winked out. Overlords roared in exhilaration as they blasted the minds of the children waiting behind the walls. The workers of power stations not under the control of Teemar became instantly enslaved to their wills and all stations now powered down, and for the first time in its long history, Coruscant became entirely still.

Evil-Kirk's mind spread outward, thanks to the additional black lens taken from Titik, his former boss, he could sense beyond his vision. Not yet equal to Kinnison in power of thought, he still struggled with his newfound ability. But it was enough, the Rebels had fallen for the trap. He saw them rushing through the dark hallways, blasting stormtroopers as they went, but as they rounded a corner, the explosion to breach the building had 'miraculously' killed the entire class of juvenile imperial cadets. And in one last fateful act, a mentally controlled Princess Leia screamed venom into the crowd of dead children.

"That is what you deserve!" Evil-Kirk sneered as he released his telepathic control and returned to the penthouse room.

"The rebels are now finished. If they live or die today it does not matter, they are outcasts now thanks to the recording footage inside the chamber. Today and forever, they are no more."

Evil-Spock concurred, he saw no ability for them to recover their once significant sympathy now that Boskone's new ideology grew on many thousands of planets. Breaking the trio's conversation, Evil-Scotty rushed into the room, yelling and hollering about connection pipes.

"Those morons! Those complete morons! They hooked up the wrong energy tubes,"

Evil-Kirk mentally extracted what he needed from his chief engineer and grabbed Teemar by the arm,

"Get down to section eight. They hooked up the wrong pairs, get down there and fix it!"

"On my way!" Roared Teemar as he headed towards the door, Evil-Scotty just behind.

Overlords! Decrease the populations fear, increase their patriotism, will them to fight the infection!

Comparing a Lensman to an Overlord is equivalent to comparing a tornado to a hurricane. The former, a scalpel of incredible power, able to pinpoint and manipulate at a delicate level or ferocious scale. The latter, a wide-ranging storm, able to project mental power throughout an entire solar system.

Tell planetary security to stand down...here comes our ships.

Through the dark sky, enormous industrial barges from another galaxy appeared with underslung power generators the size of stadiums. Hyper-matter reactors, tweaked by the Masters of Boskone and sent down through the chain of command arrived by the dozen. Ships with landing skids the size of buildings crushed whatever they touched as they brought their cargo to the surface. More than material, shielded mechanized troops from a thousand worlds rushed down the lowered doors into the streets. Pedestrians who would typically flee stood shoulder to shoulder, influenced by the Overlords to stand and fight. Not knowing yet which they faced, only the desire to stand tall and ready enveloped their fragile minds.

Machines ripped apart buildings for component materials before constructing new machines, which went on to create more. Furnaces hotter than the sun smelted and boiled necessary sheets of durasteel and poly-plastics to embolden the defensive effort. All this coming from technology and know-how of much higher intelligence. Gigantic structures assembled in record time, atomic furnaces were blasted in, and all manner of defensive weaponry came online.

Fake and real news broadcast to all Imperial barracks of the danger they would soon face, the Flood would arrive soon and everyone needed to be aware. Mass manipulation and carefully orchestrated plots and sub-plots hatched in all necessary installations and divisions. After several hours Evil-Kirk saw green turbolaser bolts flying into the sky.

It has begun. The Plague ships have arrived. Overlords. Concentrate all your efforts on the virus, do not stop until you are dead, or they are.

The Captain looked down at his hand, he took a moment to appreciate the double black lenses he fashioned. More will be captured, more will fall to my strength. He brought his hand up and clenched it into a fist. Both lenses flared brilliantly as he pushed his mind into the fray.

Materializing out of the slipstream, infected ships immediately attacked the planetary defenses. The Flood fleet which had destroyed Piett's, including captured Star Destroyers, rained destruction down upon the planet. Explosions the size of small mountains illuminated the distant horizon. Down in the streets, Imperial Troopers fought side by side with the Boskone mechanical machines as Flood forms burst from the sewers and alleys.

Back in the penthouse suite, Evil-Spock watched several screens detailing the battle,

"It appears the infected ships can penetrate our transporter scramblers," but Evil-Kirk's mind existed elsewhere, blasting the foggy consciousness out of a pair of infected sisters on the street. Like Kinnison on Kronos, he found he could only push the consciousness away before it eventually returned. This caused the mutated form to collapse and lay still until the Precursor consciousness resumed, sometimes a minute, in other cases more.

Deep inside the strangeness that was the Flood's mind, Evil-Kirk found himself standing in a dark room with fog retreating into the walls. Nothing of interest occupied the space, four black walls and a door with a golden handle. He reached for it and suddenly he was outside the room, in a long hall with fog drifting through his feet. He eyed it carefully, despite his manic and evil attitude, he still possessed all the cunning and intelligence of his warmer, kinder self. Holding up his hand he sent all his energy into the two lenses, causing a shockwave to propagate outward, blasting down walls and doors alike. Evil-Spock joined him now, both looking around into the darkness and oddity. The emptiness perplexed them, on the surface nothing seemed to be there. That is until a new door formed before them, standing alone in the darkness, it's white color and gold handle inviting them to open it. Carefully, the evil captain touched the handle, he froze.

He felt, or perhaps saw something in his mind. Himself. His alter ego which had convinced his Spock to overthrow him. He held the handle, unmoving, watching and feeling the images in his head. He saw himself on the other side of the door arguing with the Gravemind. He felt the passion, the raw power of the mind that his alter ego commanded.

Is this happening now? Somewhere else? Or a memory? He's trying to stop the spread… For a moment he considered the actions weak, but only for a second. He knew better. He felt his alter-ego's mind. Equal to my own... at least without the lenses… then another entered the dreamlike state, THE LENSMAN! Before he could remove his hand from the door it burst open and both his good alter ego and Kinnison rushed through. Realizing the danger, Evil-Kirk disconnected himself, pulling his compatriot along. Now they stood back in the penthouse, unsure of what had happened or why. After a moment, Evil-Kirk began to feel something, a memory or feeling absorbed in his brief stint within the haze.

Bones… Spock. He is friends with them even in that universe… he's afraid to lose them… or someone else… Cienna… Stopping for a moment, he looked over at Evil-Spock who returned his gaze. He wondered what it would feel like to lose one of them, or any of the women who had come and gone in his life. Yet somehow he dwelled on it, he felt his alter ego, the anger, the regret, the passion. That is not a weakness… he is a formidable opponent… he is me, and I am him. The same. But different. After a few moments of reflection, anger swelled inside him as the booming and blasting of the battle echoed loud.

Switching gears, he instantly thought of his support,

Where the hell is the rest of our fleet? Is Admiral Katari leaving me out to dry? Evil-Kirk's greatest fear was a backstab from another high-ranking Boskone officer. The small force he currently commanded could not hold for long. The Captain had rushed to Coruscant to begin defensive preparations, he felt speed was more important than power. And with speed came the sacrifice of size, he did not have time to prepare his large task force. And so now he waited for assistance. Worry turned to rage at the thought of the betrayal.

Spock, any word on Katari? If he backstabs me… I have twice the fleet he has! And as he asked, two-THOUSAND hyperspace tubes erupted within the Coruscant system. Ships the size of small continents moved like whales through the energized mouths of the exotic portals. Designed and produced by higher-echelon levels, they bristled with firepower and defensive screens. Immediately they opened up on the Flood ships and a light show of a million aurora borealis cascaded down onto the planet.

Kirk, this is Admiral Katari, you better hold that planet. I get ten percent of the ore industry. If you do not listen to me, I'm afraid you might not make it.

I'll blast you into oblivion! Evil-Kirk sent his mind straight at black lensman Katari who pushed back with all his effort. Their will's fought an invisible battle, wrestling and driving at one another, each determined to overwhelm the other.

There is no time for this Kirk, we... must -fight the infection!

There is always time for more POOWWEERRRRR!

Aboard the Mauler-Class vessel, Admiral Katari fell to his knees and screamed, he could not hold back the savage attack for much longer. Inside his mind he could feel himself losing grips with reality, his identity and knowledge being drained. Moments felt like hours, and soon the Admiral would be nothing more than a rewritten slave, to do as Evil-Kirk commanded.

But not today.

Back on Coruscant, Evil-Kirk's telepathic attack came to an abrupt halt. A powerful concussive blast ripped through the illustrious room. Glass shattered, and the howling wind swept through the room as pressure equalized from the dizzying heights of the penthouse suite. Fifty floors below, a Flood ship had smashed straight into the building, shot down by Evil-Kirk's Enterprise fighting low in the atmosphere.

"Sulu to Captain, Sulu to Captain."

"What is it!?" Shouted Evil-Kirk, grasping a gaping wound in his left shoulder. His green uniform blood-soaked, the blood trickling down his arm and over his black lens-bands.

"Looks like the plague ships are zeroing in on your location. The fleet is knocking them out of the sky, but we are also taking losses. Admiral Katari has-"

"I know!" Bellowed the captain, now regaining his balance from the assistance of his first officer. "Sulu. You shoot anything that comes through the atmosphere. If they land you target them in the cities." Cutting the line, Evil-Kirk sent his mind down the stories of the building,

There are hundreds of them, they are spreading… Overlords! Concentrate on the mutations below. Spock and I will deal with them kinetically. Heavy motors and grinding metal sounded as mechanical suits in the far room came to life. Transported in hours ago, the captain and Spock would need to use them to fight off the raging inferno of flesh and disease festering below.

Across the sky in all directions, energy blasts crisscrossed in a deadly dance of dominance. Green, blue, purple, red, and another dozen colors splashed and ebbed. Flood ships by the hundred entered the atmosphere, met savagely by the Boskone force. Evil-Kirk's and Admiral Katari's fleets worked together to try and vaporize any falling pieces that may contain mutated spores or chunks of flesh. Somewhere, a superatomic warhead hit the surface and a blast a thousand miles across vaporized countless souls too helpless to save themselves. This was no ordinary fight, unlike other worlds where the populace ran in great uncivilized migrations, Boskone fought hard, and with the help of Overlords, the population joined the effort.

As spore pods crash landed into the cities, MILLIONS of Boskone soldiers came down with them; streets on every corner of the globe transformed into a battlefield. Weapons never brought to bear were now ferried quickly to the front lines. High above, the Gravemind fought to maintain control of its forces, the telepathic attacks wreaking havoc on its micromanagement. More ships now came out of erupting hyperspace tubes, carrying the remains of the Melkotian civilization. Mind-waves smashed into the Star road, the fibers of universal ether flickering and dazzling as the Gravemind fought to keep them intact.

Back on Coruscant, a mile below ground, Teemar tossed a useless worker aside as he grabbed the connection tube and jammed it into the transceiver. Evil-Scotty stood close, programming the relay terminal so the atomic-shield could come online. The small seldom used relay junction sat in the middle of a maze of small access tunnels no larger than a man.

"Move!" Another worker hit the wall as Teemar shoved him aside to grab the second connector. As his oversized fingers prepared the attachment, screams and weapons fire echoed from far off. Scotty and Teemar both looked at each other, they knew, the Flood had infiltrated the tunnel network. "I'll hold them off,"

"You better!" Shouted Evil-Scotty as he continued to program the terminal. Teemar's eyes flared, every bone in his body wanted to smash the engineer's face in. But that was Kirk's engineer, he could not, dared not. Running past, he drew his Delameter pistol and set it to maximum power. Up ahead the flickering lights played games with his eyes. Shouting and blasting could be heard, but in the small confines and blind corners of the tunnel system, anything could happen. Minutes ticked past and the yelling became sparse. Soon only the roar and disgusting oozing of the Flood forms could be heard.

ZAP!

Teemar let loose and a column of Flood vaporized into their component atoms,

ZAP!

Another discharge and the follow-up force puffed into nothingness. Behind, Evil-Scotty shouted at workers to assist him in the installation. Like worker ants, the junior Boskone operators naturally followed orders, unable to determine their own direction in such a wild and crazy atmosphere. Several feet away, Teemar struggled to see through the dark and flickering tunnel when a blaster bolt smacked into the support column to his right. Another series of impacts caused the fat-man to haul his substantial bulk to one side. Infected stormtroopers were now rushing forward, with strange appendages working their way through their white armor. Bolt after bolt sparked durasteel plating and chunks of polycrete exploded from the walls under the bombardment. Hidden, Teemar tried to guess how close the wave of mutations was, but each time he stuck his head out to look, a powerful blast would cause him to pull back.

"Scotty, how much longer?!" Shouted the Romulan over the noise,

"Shut up!"

Zap!

Another line of Flood vaporized, but more came. Crisscrossing tunnels, not in the Romulan's field of view, brought more abominations to the battle. Great slurping snakes of mutated cells wormed their way through the smaller passages, one appearing right above Teemar. He screamed in surprise while at the same time firing his weapon. Pieces of ceiling collapsed downward, and debris and dust waffled into the air. It felt like the end had come, trapped in a labyrinth of tunnels, all men felt the grizzly proximity of death.

"For damn blazes! Keep them back ya stupid idiot!" Screamed Scotty a dozen feet away. The veteran engineer's fingers worked as quickly as humanly possible, desperately trying to tie-in all available hypermatter reactor chambers. He did not know or care how the battle was going high above, he needed to finish the mission. Glancing between his command and slave terminal, he recognized the final steps, he felt close.

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

More infected stormtrooper rounds burst fragments all over the job site. After a few explosions, a sharp piece of metal pierced the engineer's right thigh. He screamed in pain and clutched the bloody wound. Teemar rushed over and grabbed the Scotsman and shoved him back onto the terminal.

"We need to get those connectors up!" he screamed. Spit and drools spraying all over Scotty's face. Then, down the tunnel he heard a tremendous 'slap' as all Flood forms fell to the ground at once. They twisted and twirled, finally becoming still under the power of the Overlords. Only able to keep the Precursor consciousness at bay for so long, Teemar went to work and began blasting them. But all around, in thousands of meters of surrounding tubes, more came, and behind them, even more.

As the Overlord's power refocused on other groups, the remaining Flood forms began to stir, scrambling to their feet and continuing their onward push towards the control junction. As the fat Romulan took aim for another sweep of his Delameter, the entire tunnel exploded inward. A woosh of wind flattened his hair and raised his hand to cover his exposed face. Then he heard a familiar noise, the grinding and whirring of motors and pistons.

Our Mechs!

Evil-Kirk and Evil-Spock unloaded everything they had telepathically and kinetically into the vile blobs. Having defeated the Flood ships contents in the penthouse building, Spock had thought it a good idea to head towards the junction point.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

WOOSH! WOOSH! WOOSH!

High explosive rounds and insanely hot lasers cut deep into the lines, and as they fought they tore through more walls to expose other Flood forms scurrying about. Teemar ran back towards Evil-Scotty and helped jam the last connector into the link.

"Captain! We got it!" Shouted Scotty into his communicator, the distance too great to shout.

An atomic shield engulfed the planet, and despite the Flood's best efforts, could not bypass it via slipstream entry or teleportation techniques. Ships attempting to re-enter the universe beneath the shield found themselves blocked from the very ether that is reality. Designed by far smarter beings than that of men, the shield blocked everything, thought-waves included.

High above the planet, carried in the center of the Star road, the Gravemind pondered this unique problem. It knew the spawn already on Coruscant could cause havoc, but the enemy force fought feverishly, and without support may not succeed in a planet-wide takeover. To emphasize the point, a massive explosion rocked the western hemisphere of a small continent, a spore mountain had been bombed to oblivion before it could form and spew toxic seeds into the air.

I sense the possibility of danger It communicated to its command and control A.I systems that had been converted months ago from various worlds. The computer systems, hopelessly yet expertly corrupted and compromised responded,

[[Probability of hostile force overcoming the Star road is 2.3%. We recommend a direct assault upon the new shield with the tendrils]]

The Gravemind with its unimaginable intelligence considered all things.

It's fleet lay nearly destroyed by the overwhelming Boskone force erupting nonstop from the hyperspace tubes, of which it could not access or block. Additionally, the new shield capable of preventing it's slipspace maneuvers meant no reinforcements could join the planetary takeover. Atop of all these developments, telepathic attacks grew stronger every minute. It knew of Captain Kirk's alternative iteration, sending attack thoughts into its own consciousness and digging and prodding from within. Never in the dozen galaxies consumed in its long twisted life had such terrific opposition stood against its might.

But not all was lost.

Thousands of black lensman fought and died on the surface of Coruscant, being absorbed into the consciousness and soul of the Precursors. Soon it would know the location of the Dalek's if not directly, but by the eliminations of unknowns.

With the Flood ships destroyed, Boskone Heavy-Mauler's pinpointed their ultra-beams into the whirling tendrils of the Star road. Damage, superficial and moderate attested to their precise targeting. But that was ok, defeat was ok. Telepathic attacks initially from Melkotians were joined by Overlords on the surface. Star road tendrils spasmed, their essence maintained by the Precursors thoughts. Overlords, black lensman, and Evil-Kirk pushed hard, and just before the Gravemind's inevitable destruction, it withdrew its consciousness; the Precursor essence finally deciding on its own ponderance.

On Coruscant, like dew on an autumn morning, the Flood vanished into dust. Silence fell upon the world. The expansion was over, only the Dalek's remained.

Across the void, still connected to the Gravemind on the Klingon homeworld Kronos, a message entered the Captain's mind.

James. T. Kirk. The weight of this decision is on you, show us what you believe to be right and good. Our children shall live. We have located the Dalek menace. We will organize all our forces for a surprise attack. The last battle cometh