A/N: I've been busy lately with life, so that's why I didn't publish this chapter right away after it got edited. I have a grand total of four exams this month. All of them within a week of one another, so I've been studying like student has studied before. In addition, I've been preparing for an interview for a job and trying to apply for Chemistry research over the summer. Plus, all the homework I have for the week. I also forgot to mention I have a lab report to do and a two page essay I need to write.

So, I'm trying to the best I can to get this story done. I have all the chapters pre-written,so it only a matter of editing, however chapters 39-41 are not finished. They started, but need work. Personally, would really like to finish this story because I want to work on other projects. However, my editing are not so great so I'm in the process of finding a new beta.

Thank you, now you read the chapter.

Chapter 36

Finest Hour

"I don't believe in a no-win scenario."

-Admiral James T. Kirk, Star Trek: Wrath of Khan

So much damage had been done…so much. The Captain walked along the corridor, overlooking the damage. The bulkhead had collapsed, while fire still crackled and crewmembers rushed with extinguishers to put it out, in some places the lights were flickering in and out. A couple of the Ensigns looked up as the Captain passed, pausing for a moment, before continuing with their work. He wasn't trying to be larger than life for his crew, he was just being a man.

A male nurse came over to a shell shocked Bajoran, who refused to budge from his curled up position as the nurse continued to nudge him. The Bajoran had a thousand yard stare, blank, limp, it was as if no one was home as his brown eyes were in an unfocused gaze. It was like the life was sucked out of the Lieutenant. The Bajoran had survived the Cardassian occupation of his home world and the Borg invasion but this was what broke him as he kept mumbling about how the Prophets had abandoned him.

The soft sniffling filled the air with the ever present sound of wives or husband moaning after their loved ones. He could almost hear the bagpipes playing their sad tune being carried though the air and the bugle sounding that the day was done. A woman was draped over her soulless child's corpse as though she was a blanket trying to protect the child from the world to see.

Main Engineering was buzzing with activity, bright mustard colored uniforms flew about with burn marks on their shoulders or hands, but sought not to go to Sickbay, for there were worse injuries to be taken care of. Nor did they want to see their fellow crewmen die. Though they didn't speak him directly on accession, an Ensign would look up with a plastered smile as if trying to signal to him that everything was alright, but truly it was the worst as it could be.

There were halls strangely empty and abandoned, not even with silent mourning. A light backlit two individuals. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the Ensign was handed a PADD possibly delivering the horrid news that she just got promoted, but because of her friend's death. She jumped at her friend, her head laying on the crook of his neck, letting her cry.

Touring his ship was one of the Captain oldest and noblest duties; to see how the ship ran, inspecting her so she was ship-shape, and before the eve of battle. To lose the Enterprise to the Borg or to anyone was to lose a part of himself, to be one with the vessel; to move as one. Maybe…he had broken his ship, before this journey even began…

Picard entered Ten-Forward with a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. Sure he felt a sense of victory, but that victory had come at a serious price; his crew. But this feeling was a burgeoning headache to his already mounting stress. Every time that an Ensign or an Lieutenant looked at him, with their naivety not hardened by experience, it made his burden a tiny bit easier, knowing that they were bar was lined with make shift cots, crewmembers some sitting glancing up and around remanding silent as trees, white sheets molded to the still forms that were under them.

Doctor Crusher didn't even notice the Captain's presence as she was busy using the dermal regenerator to bend the broken limb of a Lieutenant, who was screaming into her ear on how much pain she was in. Her training kicked in several hours earlier telling her to ignore whatever her patient, that didn't relate to their injuries and to heal them quickly and send them off, so she would have a bed for severally injured. With all the injuries that she had received, on a scale of one to ten, this was a three. She had seen four Engineers that had to be beamed directly to her with radiation burns that covered half their bodies, punctured lungs, and a serious concussion.

"You can leave," she said, rising up to go to another patient. The Lieutenant just sat there with her eyes wide open, before breaking down again. Another crew member, who was more composed came and sat next to her, trying to calm her down.

"Hey Doc…" Said a several injured crewmen, trying to get Doctor Crusher's attention. Crusher turned, the crew member was three beds down, Ensign Matthews. He had a three cracked ribs, two broken ribs, and a badly broken leg with two fractures in the major bones. Matthews spoke again, but this time a bit louder, "Hey Doc…" Finally getting the attention of the Doctor.

"Is there anything you need, Ensign Matthews?" Her voice was calm and cool.

"No, Doc…" Crusher furrowed her brow, "Though, I would like to ask you: how does it feel to produce a monster?" Matthews punctuated his question emphasized his disgust for her son. "Your son, that Devil's child, that abomination that you care so much about."

"My son is no monster," Not taking his offenses lightly as her eyes narrowed. Before Doctor Crusher could say anymore, Picard came storming in like a tempest.

His expression was vehement, he wasn't going to sit idly by as his most trusted friend was insulted, "Explain to me Lieutenant, why you felt like antagonizing your superior officer? I've read your file, Mr. Matthews, you have an I.Q. of 116 and I do remember that you passed Chain of Command and General Protocol at the Academy, so you are far from unintelligent. Under the Starfleet Code of Conduct article 91, you committed gross insubordination, which includes disrespectful language toward a superior." Doctor Crusher shot him a look, her frosty blue eyes widening, telling him to back down. Picard turned his commanding gaze toward her and Crusher's jaw tightened. "Ensign Crusher has done more for this ship than you realize. And like it or not, Wesley Crusher is a member of my crew."

Picard narrowed his eyes, piercing right though the Lieutenant, making him involuntarily shiver as he was subjected to the Captain's wrath. But he didn't back down, "You deserve to hang. I was there, you had a shot. If you were doing your job correctly then you would have let that son of a bitch die. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess. And maybe, you know, give that thing back to the Collective d'ya ever think of that?" He gave a pause, "Captain, I would like you to tell that drone sitting at the helm for me, thanks for the injuries." Mathews felt that he one upped the Captain.

"Disrespect your superior officer again, no matter how small, and I will court martial once we get back to the Federation. I'm going transfer you to an outpost so far off the star map that you couldn't find a single cell life form with sensors. Do I make myself clear?" Matthews stiffened, before sinking back down on his bed, retreating.

Crusher signaled Nurse Ogawa over and gave her a nod to take over. Without asking, she squeezed the Captain's shoulder. Looking confused, she glanced at the door and he nodded, understanding what she wanted and both strolled out of Ten Forward.

Picard gazed at the Doctor. She wasn't crying, not really. There were no tears, but he could tell that she was fighting back her own strong emotions, as they continued their brisk pace. Finally breaking the silence between them, "You know I can take care of myself, Captain. Besides I had everything under control."

"Doctor, I take it personal when my officers are being insulted." Under his tone of formality, there was softness. If there was one thing that could be said about Jean-Luc, he was always a gentleman. When something was wrong, he knew.

She combed back a few flyways as she glanced at him, "Thank you for defending my son, Jean-Luc." Becoming a bit more informal with him. She had never known anyone, who didn't come out without their ego's bruised when they had verbal sparring match with the Captain.

"It's no problem, Doctor," Biting his bottom lip, "He means a lot to me and he shouldn't have to feel bullied on my ship. I want him to be safe." Beverly knew what he was doing. She glanced at him for a long moment, before he caught her and she turned away, blushing. She had to tell him. He needed to know.

His gray eyes raked over her stunning body, for a few seconds, without her noticing. Picard mentally hit himself, when he realized what he was doing. It was unbecoming of a Captain, "So…uh…what happened to your jacket?" As they went into the turbolift. He couldn't imagine her without her signature turquoise jacket, "Bridge." He commanded.

The question pulled her out of the inner workings of her mind, "Oh…um, when the mine exploded, I was caught in the blast and my jacket caught fire, so I had to toss it away." Sighing, "And to think Wes gave it to me as gift for getting the position on the Enterprise. He actually found a regulation that permitted me to wear it." The lift came to a halt at their designation. Beverly walked out the lift and immediately locked eyes with Wes, who turned back to his work.

It was a habit for her when she arrived on the bridge to give affection to her son; small touches really on the shoulders or smoothing out his uniform, small, but intimate. She came up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder feeling the tightly threaded wool of his uniform jacket before he violently recoiled. Gaining the attention of Commander Riker, Data, LaForge, Barkley, and Lefler. "Don't touch me. Don't ever touch me." As he glancing at her. There was a great sense of surrender in letting someone, anyone touch him;to be vulnerable again.

The Captain came over and placed a hand on his shoulder, relaxing the young man and whispered something into his ear. Beverly just stared in horror at the scene playing out before her as tears threatened to fall. He was doing something that she couldn't do, touch her son; her relationship with her son was shattering.

Wesley nodded and went back to his work as the tension in the room slowly went down. Meditating between the two Crushers, "Doctor, how about we go to my Ready Room." The Captain singled to his Commander to take care of the Ensign as he walked with Beverly.

Riker offered, "You know Ensign, you could have handled the situation better."

The Ensign typed in a few more codes, before peering up and propounded a simple question, "Commander, if you knew what I went though when I was part of the Collective, you would react the same way…it was a violation of the mind and of the body."

"But Wes––" The Ensign sharpened his gaze, giving his commanding officer a reminder. Correcting himself, "Ensign, she's your mother and she didn't mean to cause you pain. She cares so much about you, so why won't you let her touch you? That touch was supposed to be affectionate."

The young man glanced around, before answering, "Sir, there are things within the Borg far worst than Nix…darker… ancient…things you wouldn't understand."

"Ensign, I would like to know."

"Sir, no you wouldn't." His tone held weight.

Coming back to face her, "What's the status main sickbay?" Getting straight to the point. Beverly stiffened taken back by the formality of the Captain, expecting much needed comfort from him after her interaction with her son.

She did her best to hide how saddened she was. Not that he noticed, "Both the main and first auxiliary sickbays are destroyed, but the emergency ward in the stardrive section isn't." Pausing for a second to collect her thoughts, "Captain, we only have three months of medicine left."

Picard held firm, slowly turning away from her. For he was a fallible man, not wanting show her his weakness, as his willingness to endanger his crew, to put her in danger, nearly killed her. His eyes contemplating what she said, "We must keep this between us…" Murmuring, knowing what he asked of her.

Beverly shot up from where she was sited, protesting her Captain's action, "Captain, are you listening to yourself? Commander Riker has the right to know along with the others, don't you trust them?" When he turned back to face her, her blue eyes captured his as they met each other gazes.

"Doctor, if the crew caught word of this, there would be a bloody panic. And it would be the excuse they need to mutiny." Beverly sank back down once the word's weight finally rested on her shoulders. Picard turned and took his place at his desk, sliding a hand though his crown, "Besides its not their burden to bare." He watched her closely now, his eyes narrowed in deep piercing thought and his face tight concealing intense emotions. Picard brought up his hands close to his mouth, "Are you keeping anything from me, Doctor?"

"I am not keeping anything from you, Jean-Luc." Watching the minute changes to his expression with the precision of an arctic wolf. She kept her expression stilled as a calm winter's water.

"So, tell me why did you lie me about Wesley?" Hissing maliciously, cold and furious. Beverly winced at his sudden searing hatred, seemingly at a loss what to say to him. She absently rubbed her thumb against the palm of her hand.

She shook herself out of her shock and became aware of the Captain's heavy gaze. Holding her own, furrowing her brow, "You would never authorized Wesley's surgery if he was 50% Borg." Confessing her lie, however Picard's expression still remained dark and imperious.

His eyes widen by a fraction, "I wonder if I put my trust in the right place." Rising from his chair stalking toward her, she still refused to look at her Captain. Silence stretched between them, his figure looming over her, his gray cores burned with cold fire. Beverly was more in tune with him than anyone else on the Enterprise.

Unrelenting as she rose to meet his gaze, "Then why did you select me as your Chief Medical Officer, Captain?"

"You were the best in your field." A shy grin creeping onto his face. Beverly dropped her gaze, flattery wasn't going to win her over.

"So, it had nothing do with us being associated with one another? Jean-Luc?" Resolute in her response.

"No—-yes!" Before muttering under his breath, "Damn." Picard schooled his expression to hide the emotions, retreating back his chair. He wanted his face to be unreadable by her, but what he couldn't hide was the heart break within his eyes. Pulling down his tunic, "But, I'm not the one who lied!" He snapped back.

"You've lied to me plenty times." Whipping a growing storm between them, gritting out each word. Fire crackling in her eye, not cowering under the Captain's pressure. She took another step closer to his desk.

"Relationships are built on mutual trust, and if you can't trust with major decisions in Wes's life, then there is no 'us'" Jabbing at his desk for emphasis. He let the words hang in the air, and for a split second he doubted her.

Placing both her hands on his desk, then leaning forward, "There is no 'us' without Wesley. Hopefully he doesn't take after you in his relationships." Taking a stab at his ego, off-handedly. Picard's eyes widened locking on to hers, sharing an intense moment.

The crimson red klaxon flashed, alerting the crew of the Enterprise that there was danger. But, this went unnoticed by the senior most officers on the bridge. Excluding the Captain and the good Doctor, all collectively centered around the science and engineering terminals. Two junior officers; Lt. Chang and Lt. T'Ryssa sat OPS and Navigations. Perspiration pearled catching the the blues and yellow of the monitor readouts, Barclay whipped it off.

Turned away from the action, Reg focused on the muffled shouting coming from the ready room. The others were obvious to it. But the words he got out were 'um' to gain their attention.

LaForge peered up, "Reg," Gaining Barclay's attention, "We can really use your help right now." Lefler drummed her fingers on the panel, not bothering to hide her frustration.

"Geordi, is it possible for you to modify the engines to increase the warp capacity?" Riker asked, his hand covering his mouth. LaForge's shoulders dropped as he scowled, giving this some deep thought.

Turning to the Commander, "Well, sir…" Riker's eyebrow arched, "If Konsinski's theory is correct. It's theoretically possible to go past warp 9.9, breaking the warp speed barrier to where it is no longer needed. But, this by no means infinite speed."

"Konsinski's work is just a bunch of technobabble." Folding his arms across his chest, not so as angry, but annoyed.

"But, it doesn't mean it doesn't have merit. All I'm saying it maybe theoretically possible, but it may not be physically possible at this point in time, maybe fifty or hundred years from now."

"What about contacting the Traveler?" The Commander pointed out. If he could take them to the edge of the Milky Way, than sending them back to the Alpha quadrant would be a breeze.

"Commander, we have no idea where this guy is. He could be in another dimension or galaxy by now, we haven't seen in him in four years."

"Lefler, whatever you have to do. Just do it, but don't just stand around being frustrated." Getting on to the mission specialist. Lefler nodded going over to the science station to look over sensor logs.

Barclay had a brainwave, his mouth opening wide, "Commander! The–the…the wormhole that you negotiated for…the…" Stumbling with his words.

Riker Finished his thought, "The Barzen wormhole?" Getting everyone's attention.

"Yes!" Pointing his finger. Barclay came over to LaForge, "May I?" Geordi got up and let Reg take over. He typed in several equations. "The last known location of the wormhole was at sector 3556 of the Delta Quadrant. If my calculations are correct it should appear in this area of space." Pulling up a map, "Now if we bombard subspace with verteron particles, we could stabilize it and go though it." Riker peered at Data.

Wesley hadn't talked for the duration of their meeting, but cut in now. "There is only one problem. The Borg have done extensive studies on this wormhole and any artificial tampering would result in the destabilization at both ends and eventual collapse." It came out more brash than he wanted it to. It wasn't that he disrespected Barclay, as he was one of the few people, who actually respected him, despite his disgrace. The Borg humbled him, while making him some aspects more arrogant. He was turning into the very thing that people despised of him: rude, condescending, and self-righteous. Four drops of warm blood splattered on the touch screen panel.

Wesley stared at it for a moment, "Ensign are you alright?" LaForge asked. Gaining his attention, the Ensign peered up, "Your nose is bleeding." A few more drops splattered down.

"Oh, it's nothing." Wiping off the blood from under his nose with his sleeve, already becoming crusty. His brain felt like it was too big for his skull and would burst out. This wasn't like any migraine he had ever had in his life, his whole head felt in a vice, so he put on a mask of cheerfulness.

Riker gave a heavy sigh and combed though thick hair. They were running out of ideas, "Data, plot the fastest way back to the Alpha Quadrant." Commanding. The Android nodded and went off to another station. Crusher gave a flat look at his Commander, before following the Android officer.

"You may not want to go that way, you encounter species 5641; the Hirogen. They are very hostile species, where the Klingons are warriors, the Hirogen are hunters." Coming along side the Lt. Commander, "One vessel can spans a radius of 1,000 light years," He quickly composted his commanding officer's route, "You are more human me," The Android pausing from his work. His senior officer blinked processing whether this was a comment of the highest kind or sign of worry for the Ensign's worsening condition.

In silence that followed his blunt statement, Data stated the obvious, of course, "Mr. Crusher, I am an android." Caring and gentle. Wesley found his statement rather humorous, and flashed a smile.

The Ensign drew in a breath, "Well, you didn't have your soul ripped from you." Data stopped, he didn't know, he knew nothing of his pain, because he couldn't. He was cast out of paradise,because of that poisonous quicksilver now in his veins.

Lowering his voice, "Ensign Crusher–" Pausing for a split second, before becoming a more personal, "Wesley, I have been cataloguing all your behavior while being on the Enterprise and you are showing symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder."

"Data, you think you know what's wrong with me. You don't." Wesley, carefully contained any trace of fury in his tone. He just didn't want talk, their conversation was becoming inefficient.

"But it is simply an observation of fact. That you are not as in control as you think you are––" The Android's golden eyes glistened as his tone hardened, yet remained soft and sweet like he was looking out for Wes as an older brother watching over a younger brother.

Slamming his fist on the console causing the screen to flicker, "Then why don't you pull me off the roster? Besides, we're way past sorry. I don't think you even bothered looking for me." He was in control, not in chaos. Emotions were chaos. A sudden chilling of fear seized him as the realization struck him. With great effort he managed to subdue it.

"I been receiving feedback over past events and I have concluded that you should not have been—" The android hesitated. Wesley peered up, and his eyes ticked; Data couldn't grieve.

"Assimilated?" Finishing his sentence with that horrible word that rolled off his tongue with ease.

Data quickly answered "Correct, if I would have ordered you to come back…" But, there was a tinge of hesitation in his voice.

"Data, don't blame yourself. If the Collective didn't get me there, then they would have gotten me at the Academy and there would have been many more casualties." Wesley gave pause, giving the Android time to process what he said, before adding in a low voice, "Did you mourn for me?"

"Yes, we all did, especially your mother. Only a few weeks after your supposed 'death,' she stopped eating and lost a considerable amount of weight. She neglected her work or didn't even show up some days. Even, her friendship with the Captain suffered. For her, she lost the only biological family she had, it killed her. I think a part of her still thought you were alive, when everything else told her, she was wrong."

"I had no idea…" He liked Data for he didn't, no couldn't lie; he was brutally honest."Hey, Data. Thanks for being honest. It means a lot to me." He quickly added, "It's nice talking to you."

Robin had her mind turned to clay. But, preserving as she was close to a break though. She had to keep going, "Law #56, a little elbow grease never hurt anyone," A nagging sense kept tugging that the answer was right in front her. The mission specialist with a flick of her wrist as she directed the computer to produce the sensor data for the Adad galaxy.

Giving a sigh, lost in her thoughts, which was hard to do. With each passing second, her anxiety increased, the Borg came ever closer to them. She had seen what devastation that they could do; the lives lost, the grotesque assimilation of her former friends now turned against them and she could do nothing to save them while in Engineering.

Her shut her eyes keeping her painful memories at bay. She began to question her professionalism, but she kept a natural expression. Her poker face. They were alone. Just one ship. Against the Borg, who were so many.

She punched in commands, getting rid of the background frequencies. But in doing so got rid of the low frequency that she was looking the frequency didn't appear until 45633.41, but the the mist until we surveyed the planet. The Borg doesn't use this frequency. Her frown deepened to a scowl as a shadow took her light, "Your in my light…" She said agitated.

Cutting in,"Law #46 life isn't always fair." Wesley leaned on the panel until his back was straight, "What are you looking for?" His brow lifting up in curiosity.

Giving a sigh, before she peered up at him, "There is this frequency that keeps on alluding me. Now, it only appeared in the Adad galaxy and I haven't seen it since. I think that somehow this frequency and the wormhole are interconnected" Her braided crown becoming a halo of light.

"Law #36 you gotta go with what works," Catching onto his words and saying the last words of her law that he so proudly stated. Gaining the attention of the senior officers as he lit again his thousand sun smile, something they thought they would never see again under his Borg-like persona. She was making him act and be human.

Crusher's eyes widened by a fraction and knew what exactly what she was talking about. His hands flew across the panel, pressing numerous buttons to isolate a single frequency, That was highlighted in dark green, once it was singled out. They found their solution, "You are correct, this frequency is what opens up the artificial wormhole" Rubbing the tender metal between his knuckles. His lips lifted up to relieved for a moment, a smile, a genuine smile, not worried of the world or the ills he was feeling for a moment, a mere couple of seconds, he was happy.

Picard's fury had simmered down to a more manageable level for Beverly. He turned back to her, tired of looking out to the dead, lifeless worlds, that were surrounded by boundless astroids. He wanted to keep on moving, but, these course corrections were necessary. He didn't want to say these words, but it was something he had to do for their closeness to be salvageable. Give and take. Conflict was bound to happen, they just had to communicate that he didn't like this type of behavior and they work together to fix that behavior. But he had to give, even though he was right.

Gritting though his teeth, "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Beverly." Coming to sit beside her, "I didn't mean to get so angry at you, but the truth is very important to me," Sighing, "Are you keeping any more secrets from me?" He placed a hand on her thigh. She took his hand and held it. Beverly took her other hand to move his face, so they were looking at each other directly in the eye.

"Jean-Luc…there is something I need to tell you––" Beverly was cut off by a voice filtered though the comm channel, Riker.

"Bridge to Captain Picard." Picard broke eye contact with Beverly. Her shoulders slouched as she watched him get up and straightened his tunic. He turned back, seeing his closest friend transform back into his Chief Medical Officer. Taking the cues from him their personal conversation was over.

The Captain answered his officer, pressing a button on his desk, "Picard here."

"You're needed on the Bridge, sir."

"On my way, Number One." Walking out of his ready room, but stopped for his officer then they both went out together.

The Bridge's collective attention turned when the doors of the ready room opened. All expect, Ensign Crusher, he stared, unblinking, at the viewscreen. Expecting something to happen if he dared look away. The Captain took his usual seat, the pull on his consciousness. He caught a glance of his Ensign's eyes, but he mouthed 'Species 7530.'

"Sir, we are receiving a distress signal."

But, they all saw a horrendous Borg cube, for it had no regard for grace, elegance or aesthetics while it was constructed on the view screen. It design was for conquering. For even in starlight the gray metal failed to gleam. Only the green hues embedded deep within stood out against the dark metal armor. The cube quickly over took its pray, about size a Norway class starship, blasting the ship with a green projectile weapon. Before, carving the ship up with its cutting beam;maybe the last of its kind.

The foreign language passed though the universal translator, "Naraka to remaining fleet, we have suffered major damage…fall back to grid 52A." He felt only an agonizing degree of helplessness as the faint, disembodied voice, occasion burst of subspace static filled the bridge. Wesley didn't so much as flinched from the plea for he heard far worse, "Any ship out there, we need help––" A new sound came, an individual voice consistent of thousands, millions whispering collecting into a hammering voice to obliterate all others,

"We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile." Catching its pray with its green tractor beam and slowly dragging into its mouth.

"All hands abandon ship!"

Riker caught Worf's gaze and sliced a hand though the air; the transmission ceased, "I've had enough of this," Shooting up from his chair.

Wesley's eyes narrowed, this was idiotic at best, before coming down from the ramp. He caught a glimpse of Robin, the warmth of her hand still felt though his jacket, "Commander, what would you have us do? The Borg have adapted to our weapons. They are useless. What you are suggesting is putting the Enterprise at risk of assimilation for twenty beings that you haven't met. Its a waste of material." Pausing, " I say, let them die, Commander. The needs of the many out weigh, the needs of the few and you need to focus on is the safety of this ship." All emotion was disconnected from his voice.

"How can be this insensitive, Ensign?"

The Ensign didn't back down, his brown eyes steeled, "Commander, the only reason that we're not assimilated because the Borg allowed it." Wesley turned his attention to the Captain, who rose to meet his gaze, "Captain, There won't be a Federation to go back to. Don't you understand?" He pointed toward the viewscreen, "That will be our fate. Your the unstable element to a critical situation. Once the Enterprise is out of the way, the Borg will launch a full scale assault on the Federation and I doubt you will survive a war on two fronts. If you couldn't take down one cube at that small sun of Wolf 359. Now, how about ten, hundred, thousand cubes? Even with the combined strength of a Federation, Klingon, Romulan, and Cardassian fleet, you will still lose. And if you think the Borg will stop there you're wrong. The Collective will conquer the entire Alpha quadrant." He saw with eyes not clouded with emotions or humanity.

They were condemning these people, this species to internal purgatory as a drone. The least they could do was shower the smaller ship with photon torpedoes. It was better to die than be a drone. Shadows of war that they had all seen.

He seen a thousand Wolf 359 and a million wars. He heard the screams of the desperate, the angry, the frightened and have not flinched. He conquered countless worlds and rested peacefully knowing that he brought the Borg closer to perfection. For it didn't matter, he was just a part of the Collective. In their eyes they were doing theses species a favor, but Nix didn't see it that way. The debt had to be paid for the price of unmediated power and knowledge; one species at a time. Nix greeted every challenge, however it seemed enough. The Ensign gave one last look at the Bridge, before heading into the turbolift. Wesley felt the minute changes to the Enterprise's course.

Please review it would make this author very happy.