Chapter XIV
Janeway watched the faces of her crew as she related the dreadful news. The joyful reaction to the news of the genuine nature of the Enterprise was replaced by horror and dread, mixed with honest terror at the news of the Aralla fleet chasing the fleet.
Even Seven's normally calm and impassive face registered fear, especially when the recording of the Aralla ships was shown to the bridge crew. All of the crew from the Alpha Quadrant had left friends or family behind, and now the thought that those people whom they loved could be long dead, killed by an alien invader of whom they knew nothing.
After the initial shock and horror, Janeway knew, her crew would bounce back, driven even harder than before by the anger and the hatred that the Aralla would inspire. They would be driven to support Jean-Luc Picard to destroy the enemy whom they had never met.
In a sense, she supposed, waiting glumly for the recording to play out, Picard was a master tactician and reader of character. He had to have known the effect this news would have on the Voyager crew, and also must have known that they would move to support him to avenge their loved ones. No wonder that he had not asked for a list of the full crew under her command, so that he could inform any surviving relatives.
Well, she thought, damned if I just let him steal my crew. He can have a full request for information about survivors. It's the least my people deserve.
The image froze, and Tuvok, his voice slightly perturbed, said, 'Captain, I am reading a large mass four light years off the port bow. Sensors cannot penetrate the object.'
Janeway knew that her friend would not have stopped the recording or disturbed her thoughts if he did not believe that it was important. 'On screen,' she said.
The screen changed, now showing the darkness of warp space, stars streaking past, stretched due to the Doppler effect. But there was a dark smudge in the bottom of the screen, one that was oddly familiar. Janeway stared at it. 'Magnify.'
'Scanners are already at full magnification,' replied Kim. `Sorry, captain.'
Janeway pursed her lips. 'Alert Admiral Picard.'
Picard stared at the screen, showing Voyager's image of the far-off object. 'Your sensors picked this up four light years away?'
Janeway's disembodied voice replied, 'Our astrometrics lab is partially Borg designed. You'll find it all in my report.'
Picard nodded to himself. Janeway's report had certainly made for interesting reading. 'I recall,' he said. 'Can you give me a closer sensor focus?'
'Our scanners are operating at maximum range,' said Janeway. 'Sorry, but that's the best I can give you unless we get closer.'
Picard tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and came to a decision. 'I'll send a shuttle out to investigate. I can't divert the fleet from your course to investigate what may simply be an asteroid.'
'I have a better idea, if I may,' Janeway said. 'One of our shuttles was modified with Borg technology. It is faster and better armed than any shuttle in the fleet, and my pilot is used to the Delta Quadrant.'
'Excellent,' said Picard. 'Launch as soon as you are able, and then catch up with the fleet.'
'Yes, sir.'
The fleet roared onwards as the Voyager dropped from warp and came to a halt.
On the bridge, Janeway turned to Tom Paris and said, 'Take the Delta Flyer and scan that... whatever it is. Then report back.'
'Understood.' Tom jumped from his seat and hurried to the aft turbolift.
As the doors closed over the face of the helmsman, Janeway felt a chill run through her. A feeling of uneasiness that had been simmering within now began to churn inside her. She turned to Chakotay. 'Commander, can I have a word in my ready room?'
'By all means,' he said. Janeway turned and led the way off the bridge.
She turned to face him when they entered and the doors closed behind them. 'Are you uneasy?' She asked the question bluntly, leaving Chakotay puzzled.
'Uneasy? About what?'
Janeway sighed. 'That's just it. About what?' She sat down, and Chakotay stood before her. Behind her, he could see the sleek shape of the Enterprise, and two Klingon birds-of-prey. 'I can't decide what, but something's making me feel extremely worried about what we've landed in. This war, an attempt to ally ourselves with the Borg. Something feels wrong.'
'We don't know the full story,' said Chakotay, playing his role of sounding-board for his captain's ideas and suspicions.
'No, we don't. Picard hasn't bothered to give us the full story.' She looked up at Chakotay. 'As captain of the USS Enterprise-D in the last eight years, Jean-Luc Picard has carried the legacy given by James Kirk to new heights, and has worthily risen to the position of the premier captain in the Starfleet, and possibly in the Quadrant.'
Chakotay smiled. 'Sounds like you're quoting,' he said.
Janeway nodded. 'Starfleet captain appraisals, 2371,' she said. 'Picard's topped the listings ever since he took command of the Enterprise on stardate 41150. Not only that, he is one of the role models I try and base my command on.' She looked up at Chakotay, worry written on her face. 'This isn't the same man.'
'How do you mean?'
'It's in his attitude. I met Picard twice, once shortly after his first command, the Stargazer, was destroyed, and also just after the Klingon civil war. Both times, he struck me as a very charismatic leader, but one who commanded the total respect of his crew and colleagues. Indeed, he was judged to have had more power and sway in the Admiralty than some high-ranking Admirals. He was also a great diplomat, an expert tactician and a master of problem-solving. Why is he now a war leader, committed to destroying an alien race of whom we know nothing, when someone of his ability as a diplomat might have salvaged peace?'
'We don't know that that is possible with the Aralla,' said Chakotay, quietly.
Janeway shook her head. 'No, you haven't met him. He holds himself very tightly now, more so than ever before. But the hatred in his eyes...' Janeway trailed off and stared into the middle distance. Chakotay knew instantly that his captain was very disturbed and upset by what she had seen. 'When the Aralla came onto our screens, he looked at them with such naked hatred and fury, I nearly expected him to attack the screen. I'd never before seen such hostility and....' She waved her hand aimlessly in the air, indicating she had run out of words. 'How has the best captain in the fleet become the man who would destroy a civilisation? Not only that, how can I follow the orders of a man I believe unfit to command a fleet?'
Chakotay could not answer. He merely looked out at the shape of the Enterprise, speeding close alongside, dwarfing the Voyager.
'Bridge to captain.' Kim's voice disturbed Janeway's thinking, and she looked up.
'Janeway here.'
'Captain, Tom's ready to depart in the Delta Flyer.'
'Understood. We're on our way.'
Glancing at Chakotay as she stood, Janeway said, 'Do you understand?'
'I stand with you, Kathryn,' said Chakotay. 'No other.'
Janeway smiled and left the ready room.
Tom Paris glanced up at his cockpit window as the voice of his captain filled the air around him. 'Launch when ready, Mr. Paris.'
'Understood. All systems go,' he made the routine reply.
'Tom,' Janeway's voice continued unexpectedly, 'I want you to report back to me first. I'll take your report to Grand Admiral Picard myself.'
Paris paused, a flare of Starfleet discipline that Janeway had managed to instil in him over their long years of working together lighting up within his mind. 'Shouldn't I report back immediately to the fleet commander in a case of a major tactical alert?'
'That's an order, Ensign,' was Janeway's brusque reply.
Paris nodded, although Janeway couldn't see him. 'Aye, sir,' he said, adding the sir to annoy Janeway.
A new voice came over the comm. 'Tom, be careful,' said B'Elanna, her voice quiet. Paris grinned but kept his voice serious, knowing how much his lover hated revealing her feelings for him in front of everyone.
'I will,' he replied, keeping his voice serious. Then his hand snaked out and pressed a key. At the same time, he activated the engines.
The Delta Flyer sprang from the shuttlebay, its Borg-modified engines glowing an eerie shade of green against the darkness of space. For a moment, the shuttle paused, and then launched itself into warp speed.
In B'Elanna Torres' quarters, a read button began flashing quietly on a screen in the gloom of the room.
Picard looked out at Engineering as the turbolift doors opened. He stared for a moment at the warp core and then braced himself and stepped out.
He had not entered this room since Beverly had died, nearly three years ago. In all that time, he had utilised deputies, usually Worf or one of the junior bridge crew, to discharge routine duties. Nevertheless, they were ones which he himself should have done personally, if only because he owed Geordi La Forge the honour.
In nearly two years, Picard reflected, he and Geordi had barely spoken more than five words to each other, and that only at briefings and staff meetings. This was not due, he hoped, to any bad feeling that had developed between his Chief Engineer and himself – certainly he could not think of any occasion – but merely to the fact that Picard and Geordi had changed, as had the environment around them.
Picard walked quietly through the section, glancing at the occasional familiar face, more often than not familiarising himself with new crewmembers, which in itself, he thought, was a bad sign. There had been a time, before this war, when he had known his entire crew of from memory, and had spoken personally to each and every one at least once. Now, many were strangers. How long had it been, he mused, since he had wandered the decks of his command? Another blame to lay at the doorstep of the Aralla.
A figure turned from a console, and Picard recognised Geordi La Forge. The engineer smiled. 'Admiral! It's good to see you!'
Picard found himself smiling at Geordi's reception. 'The same here, Mr. La Forge.'
There was a pause, and Picard found himself weighing up the man stood before him. La Forge seemed to have barely changed to all immediate appearances, but Picard could see a hint of grey creeping into the close-cropped black hair, and extra worry lines forming around the eyes. Even as he did the evaluation, he noticed Geordi doing exactly the same. On an impulse, he said, 'Geordi, when did we become strangers?'
To his credit, Geordi replied levelly, 'When Will Riker died.'
Picard stared at the artificial eyes for a moment, and then sat heavily onto a stool beside one of the work consoles. Geordi stared at him sympathetically for a moment, and then took a seat before him. A few brief touches of the padd he was holding, and a noise suppression field sprung up behind the engineer. They had been installed as measures to allow officers to communicate quietly when there was excessive background noise, as there was often in Engineering.
'Admiral, I know that you know it's been a long time since we last spoke properly,' Geordi began, 'and it's not been easy, being silent down here for so long.'
'Official briefings –' began Picard, but Geordi cut him off.
'No, sir. That's not what I mean.' He paused. Obviously what he was about to say was not going to be easy, either to say or hear. 'Sir, your briefings are now little more than dictation and order ceremonies anymore. I only go to present my weekly report, and that's all. There's nothing I or anyone else can add when you've already made a decision. I'm sure that Captain Sisko or General Martok will tell you the same.'
Picard raised a hand, but Geordi's eyes flashed with anger. 'Damn it, sir! Listen to some damned home truths for once!'
Picard narrowed his eyes and stared at the engineer for a long moment. 'Watch for when you cross the line, mister,' he growled.
Geordi subsided slightly. 'I'm horrified that you haven't noticed this yourself. Three years ago, you wouldn't have needed me to be telling you this.'
Picard paused for a moment. 'Why didn't you say anything before?'
'Would you have listened?'
Picard hesitated, and then answered the question by simply dropping his head slightly. Geordi sighed, and relaxed his shoulders, tensed up as they were. 'We never realised it, but Will Riker was the key to this crew, Admiral. He was the link between you, and the other members of the bridge crew. Sure, we were all friends, but we were never a social or cohesive unit as such without Riker to link us.'
Picard smiled ruefully. 'I can't pretend that I was the most accessible person on the ship, even to you and the bridge crew.'
'The only ones who felt themselves able to speak to you at any time outside of the job were Will Riker and Beverly Crusher,' the engineer agreed. 'And only Will felt truly comfortable about doing it.' Geordi leaned closer to Picard. 'Sir, you're my commanding officer, but you're also my friend. Please, rejoin your crew, before we all go under.'
'Rejoin?' asked Picard, confused.
'Sir, you, myself, and Worf are the only survivors of the Enterprise-D crew, people who believed that they were your closest friends. The plans you have made are placing us in great danger. I understand the Aralla threat just as well as you, but we have to recognise that we are doing absolutely no good just trawling randomly through space, looking for the Borg.'
'The Borg are here,' protested Picard. 'I can feel them.'
'I know, Worf told me.' Picard raised an eyebrow.
'I shall have to have words with Mr. Worf,' he began, but Geordi barked a laugh and leant back in his seat.
'That's what I mean! You didn't give him an express order to keep quiet, and the first thing Riker would have done was to alert the rest of the crew to such an immediate threat. Right now, I'm probably the only other person on the ship that Worf really knows. He may have spent two years with Hedly, Thames and Truper, but they don't count, to Worf at least, in the same way as we once did to you.' Geordi paused. 'It's odd,' he added, almost off-handedly, 'but I'd not really realised how heavily you've come to rely on Hedly, Truper and Thames. It's as though we've been cast off.'
'I never felt that way,' said Picard, his voice quiet.
'Maybe,' said Geordi sadly, 'but that's how it seemed to me.' He sighed, for once losing the youthful image he had managed to retain, and looked for a moment as though he were in his seventies, rather than in his early forties, as he was. 'We've grown very old in a very short space of time.'
'We have,' agreed Picard. The two of them sat for a moment, contemplating the floor. And I'm the oldest of the lot, thought Picard. An old fool!
'Geordi, you're right,' Picard admitted eventually. 'I'm a damned fool. We need to consolidate and regroup before we face the Aralla. We need to establish a base, instead of just running from what's behind us. The longer we draw this out, the harder it will be to win.'
Picard's voice gained in strength as he stood and stared fiercely down at Geordi. 'The Aralla have taken everything we have, and now it's time to show them that we won't let them do that without taking them down with us, if need be.' He tapped the badge on his tunic. 'Picard to Worf.'
'Worf here, sir.'
'Instruct General Martok, Admiral Jaled, Daimon Kreal and Gul Dukat to come to the Enterprise briefing room immediately. Then order the fleet to come to a full halt. And then report to my ready room.' Picard toyed with the idea of sending for Ben Sisko as well, but then decided not to. As good a man as Sisko was, he was merely a Starfleet captain. At the moment.
'Sir?'
'Do it.'
'Aye, sir,' said Worf, and the channel cut. Picard turned to Geordi.
'Geordi, will you accompany me?'
'Yes, sir!' said Geordi, springing to his feet, and for a moment, his face became as young as it had been when he had first stepped aboard the Enterprise-D. 'What are we doing?'
'We're going to get ourselves a new home.'
With the fleet stationary, the fleet commanders beamed over to the Enterprise, surprised to find themselves all called together for what was probably the first time since they had fled the Gamma Quadrant. Before, the monthly briefings had consisted of Picard calling them separately and giving them orders to be followed. Grumbling, but recognising Picard's leadership, they went.
When Daimon Kreal, a dour-faced Ferengi who had grown more and more morose of late, arrived last, Picard had not yet arrived. Tense Starfleet security guards stood at each of the doors, phasers ready, but not drawn. The Romulan and Klingon bodyguards were restrained by the controlling influences of their commanders, Martok and Jaled, but only barely. Cardassians had been almost universally hated before the destruction of the Alpha Quadrant, and little of that animosity had declined from either the Romulans or the Klingons, and Ferengi were just despised.
Ghia Hedly, who had entered the room escorting the Ferengi group, knew that unless Picard arrived soon, there might be a five-way fight, even with the calming influences of Martok, Jaled, Dukat and Kreal, between the bodyguards. Once that happened, the others would be honour-bound to become embroiled, and so would the Starfleet officers to keep the peace. Then, someone might die, and one side of the fleet would retaliate, and before anybody could do anything, old barely controlled rivalries and hatreds would flare up, everyone would fight everyone else, and the fleet would collapse without the Aralla having to fire another shot. And then it would be merely a race between the Borg and the Aralla for who conquered the galaxy.
And Ghia Hedly was the woman on the spot. She smiled tightly.
At that moment, one of the Romulans stepped too close to a Klingon bodyguard and nearly bumped into him. 'Look where you're going in future!' snarled the Klingon, a towering hulk over the Romulan.
The Romulan, somehow, gave the Klingon a look which, despite the Klingon having nearly a foot in height over him, managed to look down his nose. 'I will if there is something to watch out for.'
Turning his back on the guard, the Romulan sneered at the other Klingons and started towards his compatriots. However, a large hand arrested his progress and behind him, he heard the sound of a d'k'tahg being slid from its sheath. Klingons do not waste time in small talk.
Just as the Klingon prepared to strike, a phaser beam cut him down where he stood. As he fell, stunned, Hedly adjusted her phaser and stunned the Romulan as well.
On cue, almost as if programmed, the Romulans and Klingons leapt to their feet and prepared to attack the Starfleet officers.
'Hold!' Jaled's voice rang out through the room, just as Martok yelled the equivalent in Klingonese.
Martok immediately turned to Hedly. 'Thank you, Commander. This lump –' he prodded the comatose Klingon with his foot. '- only understands a phaser blast sometimes.'
Jaled nodded. 'Sometimes, our hatred of the Klingons leads us to do stupid things at stupid times. At those times, a bit of brute force is necessary. I thank you also, Commander.'
Hedly nodded curtly. She turned to beckon to two of her subordinates. 'Get these two out of here and to the transporter room. Beam them back to their ships.'
'I suggest,' Dukat said for the first time, 'that the bodyguards all return to their own ships. I find it highly unlikely that we are going to attack each other.'
Martok glared at Dukat, but nodded in agreement. Hedly glanced at Kreal and Jaled, who both agreed in their own ways. To general protests, the bodyguards were herded quickly from the room by the Starfleet guards, the Romulans and the Klingons carrying their respective unconscious colleagues.
The room was now empty, and only Hedly remained with the four leaders, who eyed each other uncomfortably for a moment. Hedly felt her heart slow down from it's furious beating to a more normal rhythm in the silence.
The door slid open, and Picard walked in. He sat down at the table, facing Jaled, Martok, Kreal and Dukat. A brief moment passed again as Picard pressed a few buttons on a padd and then glanced up. 'I want to prepare to establish a planetary base.'
There was stunned silence, and then Martok said, 'Why?'
'We have run long enough,' replied Picard. 'We need to turn and face the Aralla.'
'And what of our search for the Borg Unicomplex?' asked Kreal.
'That will continue, but by several scouting parties, on long-range expeditions. We have evidence that the Aralla have penetrated the Delta Quadrant border, but are more than a year from our position, and falling behind.'
'Why stop?' asked Jaled. 'Why not just evade them until we find the Borg? I assume that you have a plan for dealing with the Borg, incidentally,' he added. 'I would be most disappointed if we encountered them, and it turned out we had no plans for dealing with them.'
Picard leant back in his seat, ignoring the well-aimed point. 'I must apologise for the way in which I have behaved over the last two years to all of you. I have kept you in the dark, ignored your suggestions and issued decrees based on what I wanted; not on what is best for the fleet.'
There was a moment's pause, and then Dukat smiled. 'Thank you, Admiral, for being so honest. Morale has been low in the fleet for a long while now, and severe doubts in your leadership have been expressed to me from the Cardassian commanders in the fleet. I'm glad you have seen this.'
Martok nodded. 'The same is true of the Klingons. The loss of so many battles to the Aralla was only temporarily salved by the defeat of the Jem'Hadar, and all of this running has been demoralising in the extreme to my warriors. They need to fight, Picard.'
Picard waited until Martok had finished speaking, and then handed the padd he had been working on to Dukat. 'Please read it. Take all the time you wish to do so, but please don't comment until you've all had a chance to peruse it.'
When Dukat passed the padd on, he stared at Picard for a long moment, his face stunned. Then, he stood and turned to stare from the window. Picard filed his reaction away, determined to wait until the others had finished.
Jaled, his face drawn, passed the padd to Kreal, and joined Dukat at the window. The two did not speak, but looked out at the stars.
Kreal, in turn, handed the padd to Martok, and then slumped back in his seat. His face, however, did not appear dejected, but enthusiastic and vital for what seemed the first time in weeks.
When Martok finished reading, he looked at Picard. 'May I comment?' he said hoarsely.
Picard nodded. 'By all means. I welcome your opinions.'
'You're mad, Picard,' said Martok, his voice matter-of-fact. 'Any project of this size will require co-operation and resource manipulation on an unprecedented scale. And the idea of having nearly a trillion humanoids of more than thirty different races live together on the same planet is ludicrous.'
'I agree with Martok that it is unfeasible, but I do not believe it is impossible,' said Jaled. 'The rivalries in the fleet are barely contained as it is, and moving a large part of that population to a planetary surface is going to be difficult merely in logistics terms, not to mention when the people start to fight for room. However, with strong will, luck and a great deal of struggle, it might be possible.'
Kreal smiled. 'My people are extremely demoralised, Admiral Picard. I do not know about the Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians or any others, but the Ferengi race is used to a planet to call it's own, even a part of one. All of the travel in space is extremely painful for us, especially when there appears to be no object to it.'
'And your point is?' prompted Martok, his voice a growl.
'My point is, I support your plan. A base with which to strike back at the Aralla, even without the assistance of the Borg, would a considerable boost to the fleet, I believe.'
'Have we earmarked any planets for colonisation?' asked Dukat.
'None so far,' replied Picard. 'With your permissions, I was going to instigate search parties to begin scanning local space for suitable planets. The fleet would stay at rest, and investigate potential sites, and also sightings of Borg ships.'
'Then you have not given up your planned alliance with the Borg?' asked Jaled.
'No,' Picard replied levelly. 'I still believe that they are the key to winning this war. You are perfectly entitled to disagree, of course.'
'I think, Admiral,' said Dukat with a smile, 'that if any of us disagreed with your plans to contact the second most powerful enemy we have in the galaxy, you would have heard by now.' He sighed. 'What was on the rest of the padd?'
'That was another subject that I wished to consult with you about,' said Picard carefully. 'You will hear about it in good time, but for the moment I wished to –'
Dukat leant over the desk and placed his hands on the table in front of Picard. 'Damn you, Picard! What was on it?' He retained his eyeball to eyeball glare with Picard until Picard smiled at him.
'I thought you'd lost your will, Dukat,' Picard said quietly, so quietly that the Cardassian backed off in surprise. 'I thought all of you had lost the will to fight me and the Aralla, to resist when I made a single decree as though it were carved in stone. I stopped consulting because I thought I was the only one capable of fighting the Aralla anymore. You all bowed to my will, and said nothing to me.'
'You are the leader of the fleet,' said Martok quietly, his face embarrassed. 'You have led –'
'I have led you to defeat!' shouted Picard, his anger exploding like a bomb in the large room, his voice echoing from the walls. 'At Qo'nos, Earth, Bajor and whenever we fell back without reply to the Aralla! We have retreated across the galaxy in a pointless search for the Borg because I didn't think we could defeat the Aralla ourselves!'
'We have followed faithfully,' began Jaled, but Picard cut across him again.
'I have made a coward's decision, and you could not tell me.' His voice, though sharp, no longer held the fire that it had earlier. 'We should be fighting the Aralla there –' He waved his hand in the general direction of the Alpha Quadrant '- and not waiting for them to catch us here.'
'The decisions you have made have been in the best interests of all our peoples,' said Kreal.
'No they haven't,' said Picard, staring at the Ferengi. 'They've been made because of my short-sightedness.'
'We have supported you,' said Dukat suddenly, 'because we felt that it was the only future for us. We are so fragmented in reality that none of us could possibly take command of such a huge fleet. Our precious Alpha Quadrant, so lauded by our politicians and leaders during peacetime, has never been at one with itself. We needed one leader, equally respected by all of our peoples, to lead us against the Aralla and destroy this threat forever. Otherwise, we would have fallen apart at the first hurdle, and fallen to them – and ourselves. You are the only one who can possibly take us to victory now.' One by one, as Dukat swept an icy gaze across them, the others agreed wholeheartedly.
Picard nodded slowly. There was a long pause whilst all of them collected their thoughts, and finally Picard said, 'I am glad that we have had this discussion, gentlemen, because I wish to discuss with you exactly what I wish to do in the future. Not only of the war, but also in terms of what we do once the war is won. Our contingency plans for defeat have already been drawn up, long before the battle of Bajor, and I feel no need to change them significantly. It is far more important that we begin making our plans for victory. If our leadership can unite like this, we can make our disparate peoples and races unite as well, in common cause against the enemy.'
Finally, Dukat, Martok, Kreal, and Jaled realised what the point of this meeting had been. Picard's lack of faith in his own leadership had been diminished by the show of support from themselves, and he now felt confident enough to begin plans for victory against the Aralla. As far as any of them knew, Picard had not planned constructively beyond finding the Borg and enlisting them in the war, and his buoyed confidence, and the part that they had played in raising it, now began to give them a psychological boost.
'I assume that you have all prepared battle plans yourselves,' said Picard unexpectedly.
A surprise to them, he could see. Then Martok smiled. 'You are very perceptive, Picard. I have made several plans merely for my own amusement –'
'Based on the Klingon elements being detached from the fleet, no doubt,' said Picard, his tone amused.
Martok narrowed his eyes. 'How would you know that?'
'How we know all of this is irrelevant,' said Jaled abruptly, his face set with grim determination. 'Our peoples still have no reason to trust each other, as we know, and we undoubtedly have spies in each others fleets –'
'Starfleet has no spies in anybody's forces,' interjected Picard. 'We refrain from this practice because I feel it is no longer necessary.'
Jaled shrugged. 'I cannot account for the locations of all of my people. However, it is irrelevant. We need to provide a better reason than the Aralla and our mutual fears in order for this fleet to unite cohesively.'
'Since when have Romulans been interested in unity? We all know how good they are at promoting discord,' said Kreal dismissively.
'My point exactly,' replied Jaled, his tone still calm. 'I lead a defeated and broken people. We were the first targets of the Aralla, and the first to suffer at their hands. We have lost our homes and our security, and to a Romulan, there is nothing more important than his or her home and the security that accompanies it. My people are no different from those that inhabit the other ships of this fleet in wanting to see an end to this fighting and to return to the Alpha Quadrant. However, I do not pledge only this, but also the full and unconditional support of the Romulan people to any initiative aimed at uniting the Alpha Quadrant once the Aralla threat is defeated. I pledge this to you, Grand Admiral Picard, with all of my heart, and with the full unanimous backing of what survives of the Romulan Senate.'
Picard stared at Jaled, his mouth hanging open. 'Wh- How?'
'I have been elected as the Praetor of the Romulan Empire, Admiral, on the basis of what I have just pledged. The Senate is officially disbanded, and I have sole rule of the Romulan race.' The new Praetor smiled slightly. 'However, I do not wish to be so, for I am a soldier, not a politician. Thus, I name you, Jean-Luc Picard, as Praetor of the Romulan Empire.'
The room was dead silent for a moment. 'Can you do that?' said Picard eventually, his voice shocked.
'My people elected me in order that I should do exactly that,' said Jaled off-handedly. 'They have accepted you as their leader now.'
Picard smiled incredulously. He had now been given the first part of his masterplan to him on a plate. 'I accept, Admiral Jaled. I will make an announcement to that effect to the Romulan fleet as soon as this briefing is over.'
The room was now deathly still, as Martok, Dukat, Kreal, and not least Picard, struggled to come to terms with the bombshell Jaled had just dropped.
'Well,' said Dukat eventually, 'I am not about to hand the Cardassian leadership over to you, Admiral, but I do agree with all of Admiral Jaled's statement. We need to find something to unite against other than the Aralla. Something that can sustain us in the future.'
Martok nodded. 'Effectively, as Arbiter of Succession, you already have the unconditional support of the Klingon Empire, Admiral, at least until a new Chancellor is chosen. Thus, I cannot add anymore, but it does seem wise that we find a common ground.'
Kreal voiced his own approval of the idea, and Picard smiled. This was perfect, better than he could have imagined it. At last, he was no longer alone.
The briefing continued apace for the next four hours. Aides for all five leaders came and went, carrying padds of scanner reports, sensor sightings, and tactical and strategic analyses. Picard slowly came to realise that the four men who commanded the fleet beneath him were expert tacticians and leaders in their own right. All of them had prepared their own tactics and battle plans for both the fleet and their own contingents, and all of them, despite not being exactly to Picard's liking, had elements that he knew could be woven into an overall battle plan. Each of them understood the capabilities, strengths and weaknesses of the ships and men under their respective commands better than Picard did, and slowly, a grand plan for the defeat of the Aralla came into being that day.
Alongside that battle plan was shaped another, smaller, but far more significant agreement. To provide a focus for their peoples to live under and fight for, rather than their fear of the Aralla, they established the first true alliance of the war. For the Aralla to be defeated, they reasoned, they needed to be strong and united. To be strong and united, they needed a focus.
The fleet would be that focus.
They addressed the questions that arose with admirable speed and foresight, tackling each obstacle head-on until they found a workable solution.
Picard knew that he had severely underestimated the people he led. They had come close to losing the war because of his lack of vision. Now, they had a chance.
But first they needed the Borg.
'The Enterprise will be the flagship,' said Jaled, pointing to the padd before him.
'What?' said Picard, startled from his reverie.
'The Enterprise will be the flagship,' repeated the Romulan.
'Why?' asked Dukat, his tone curious.
'It is the only ship in the Fleet that can be,' said Jaled. Picard noticed the capital "F" that had crept into the word, and knew that that was part of the process they had suggested. 'We need a command ship. Admiral Picard is our commander, and none of us now have equal rank to him. Thus, the Enterprise must be the flagship.'
Dukat nodded. 'I agree.'
'As do I,' said Martok.
'Same here,' said Kreal.
'Hang on a moment,' said Picard, feeling that the conversation had run away from him slightly. 'I thought we'd agreed to co-operate.'
'We have,' said Kreal. 'However, we also realise that the Fleet needs a single commander. It is the same as any large logistics operation that we have all undertaken in the past. We all have command of our individual ships and Battle Groups, but we all take orders from one vessel which commands the Fleet as a whole.'
Picard nodded, slightly amazed at the idea, and then realising it was what he had been angling for all the time and, indeed, was the main purpose in calling the meeting together. 'I hope that you don't expect the Enterprise to keep out of any fighting.'
'I would think a lot less of you if it did, Admiral,' said Dukat, smiling.
'I accept,' said Picard.
Without warning, the red alert siren blared and Hedly's voice came over the comm. 'This is a red alert! All hands to battle stations! Admiral Picard to the bridge!'
Picard vaulted from his seat, all plans forgotten, and dashed through the door, closely followed by the others.
As Picard emerged onto the bridge, Worf, who was stood with Hedly at tactical, turned to him with a worried expression. 'Sir, we've just received a message from the Voyager shuttle.'
Tom Paris watched his scanners warily. After four hours of dull travel at warp seven, he was now approaching his target, and all of his long-range sensors were probing space before him.
So far, his scanners had not located any sign of the mysterious object he was searching for, which was definitely worrying, as he knew that he should have been less than a hundred thousand kilometres from it's surface.
'Weird,' he muttered, his face perplexed.
'Craft sighted in grid 114 of sub-section 84a. Orders requested.'
'Craft identified. Starfleet customised shuttlecraft, registration NCC-74656-Delta Flyer. Presence of captured Borg technology indicated on board. Capture and assimilation imperative.'
'Increase speed to maximum. Ready drones to begin capture and assimilation.'
A low humming spread throughout the Delta Flyer, and a padd that rested on top of the main console began to rattle against the smooth surface. Paris' eyes began to take on a worried expression.
'Computer, scan for vessels!'
'There is a Borg Sphere at bearing 114 mark 521.'
'Damn!'
The comm crackled into life. 'We are the Borg. Power down your engines and weapon systems. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile. We are the Borg.'
'Computer, launch distress beacon towards fleet and begin transmitting immediately!' said Paris, his arrogant and calm demeanour broken by the message which had come over the speakers.
He activated the warp engines, and swung the craft around. Directly before him loomed the smooth contours of the Borg sphere that threatened his existence. Dark and dull metal, glowing with the green power fields that characterised Borg technology, stretched up and around as far as his eyes could see.
Bringing the Flyer up to full throttle, he threw everything to the impulse drive, and swung the small craft under and around the Sphere. Then, hammering the warp drive, he vanished into a blaze of light.
The Sphere turned smoothly on its axis, and pursued his tiny ship with a deceptively casual pace.
'This is the Delta Flyer to any ships from the Alpha Quadrant! I have encountered a Borg Sphere at heading 114 mark 521! They are pursuing me at warp six! I need assistance! To any ships from the Alpha Quadrant…'
'Assimilation order rescinded. Track and follow Alpha Quadrant shuttle. It is heading toward its home craft, USS Voyager NCC-74656. Unicomplex 001 has made capture and assimilation of this vessel a priority.'
'The pilot has intercepted a Borg Sphere, sir,' said Worf, as Picard slipped into his seat. Martok, Jaled, Dukat and Kreal crowded the aft section of the bridge. 'They are proceeding to this destination at warp six, matching the shuttle's speed, but not exceeding it.'
'They're using him to track us,' said Picard angrily. 'But I can't order him to divert from his course. That would be immediate suicide.'
'I suggest we prepare the fleet for battle,' said Martok.
'I agree,' said Picard. 'You had better get to your ships, gentlemen. Orders will be forthcoming soon.'
The four leaders nodded, and exited the bridge quickly via the forward turbolift. 'Wait until they've beamed off the ship and then raise shields,' said Worf to Hedly. 'Then order a fleet-wide red alert.'
'Understood.'
'And then, order all ships to form attack pattern omega-1,' said Picard slowly. 'Prepare to fire on my command.'
'What about the shuttlecraft?'
'I do not intend to let either our first chance to contact the Borg go wrong or a Starfleet officer die if I can help it. We will attempt to make contact with the Borg ship as well as retrieve the shuttle. If the Borg ship proves difficult, we destroy it.' At least, Picard added silently in his own mind, I hope I don't give the destroy order the second it comes out of warp. Restraining myself might be more difficult than restraining the Borg.
'Sir, the shuttle has launched a distress beacon with relay,' said Hedly suddenly. 'I can get visual.'
'On screen. Broadcast to all ships.'
The main screen flickered, and Janeway leapt from her seat at the view before her. The shuttle, a small dot in the far distance, its white hull showing starkly against the dull monochrome gleam of the Borg Sphere, headed towards the beacon.
Beside her, although she barely noticed, B'Elanna Torres' breath caught in her throat and an anguished growl crept unbidden into the air. 'Tom….'
'Scanners have detected a fleet of ships at grid 115, sub-section 814. Orders.'
'Ships identified as belonging to all various assimilated Alpha and Beta Quadrant races. Estimate number at 4582 ships. Lead ship identified as USS Enterprise NCC-1701-E, commanded by…'
There was a pause whilst the main Unimatrix of the Borg vessel requested confirmation of the information it had received from the Collective.
'The Unicomplex has detected the beacon of Locutus. Immediate priorities all rescinded. All resources devoted to reassimilating Locutus of Borg and returning him to Unicomplex 001.'
'Orders regarding shuttle?'
'Terminate and accelerate to warp nine.'
Paris wiped the sweat of fear from his brow, and stared again at his console readings. The Borg Sphere following him had tracked his every move and matched his every speed change, but had made no attempt to lock on with a tractor beam or destroy his ship. He knew what they were doing. 'They're following me!'
'Borg vessel is accelerating to warp nine,' said the computer suddenly. 'They are powering up weapons.'
'Evasive –'
Janeway watched as the Borg sphere began to speed up, quickly passing the Delta Flyer. 'The Borg Sphere is powering up weapons systems,' said Tuvok calmly.
'Engines to full, ready weapons and lay in course to intercept that Sphere!' ordered Janeway.
'Captain, Admiral Picard's orders –' began Chakotay.
'I am the captain aboard this starship, Commander! It can wait!' Janeway's voice, angry and concerned, cut across Chakotay's protest like a knife through butter.
'Course laid in at max –' began the helm officer, but then Kim shouted, 'Captain!'
On the screen, even as Janeway turned to look, the Borg sphere swept over the Delta Flyer, and, almost as an afterthought, a ball of green fire slammed into the shields of the little ship.
The Flyer jolted hard as the Borg weapon slammed into Paris' forward shields. He choked off a curse, and hammered in another evasive course, barely avoiding the next shot that skimmed his shields, prompting the computer to say calmly, 'Shields at ten percent.'
'Divert auxiliary power to shields!'
'Shields as thirty percent.'
Another beam of energy slammed into his aft shields. 'Shields at five percent.'
'Thank you!' shouted Paris angrily.
He glanced up whilst programming in another course change, and then realised that it was a wasted effort.
The Borg Sphere, one methodical blast after another emitting from it's gleaming surface, tracked the Delta Flyer until a blast finally connected.
As the horrified crew of the USS Voyager watched, the Delta Flyer exploded into a blaze of fire and plasma.
Silent, deadly, the Borg vessel continued on its way. Towards the fleet.
As Janeway turned away, she heard a sound from the far side of the bridge that she thought would never hear. It was B'Elanna Torres, sobbing softly into her hands.
As Janeway sat down, mind reeling, Picard's voice came over the comm. As the stunned crew listened, he said, 'All ships. The Borg are coming. Orders are being broadcast now. Follow them closely.'
'Is that all he can say?' growled Kim. Paris had been a close friend to him. 'Orders are being broadcast?'
'He is the commander of the fleet,' said Chakotay, his voice quiet. 'And he didn't know Tom like we did.'
'We will have a memorial service,' said Janeway, her voice bitter. 'And I will speak with Admiral Picard –'
'Speak?' Torres' voice rang out across the bridge, bitter and devastated. 'Speak with him? He sent Tom to die out there, all alone! And now you want to speak to him? I should tear out his heart with my bare hands!'
'B'Elanna –' began Chakotay, but Torres snarled at him, and, throwing aside the crewman who stood in her way, she disappeared into the turbolift.
'Lock down the transporters,' said Janeway. 'I'll fetch her.'
Torres stormed down the corridors of the Voyager blindly, her heart screaming.
She entered the transporter room and growled at the duty officer. 'Beam me to the Enterprise!'
'I'm afraid I can't do that, Lieutenant,' said the young man, turning to face her, his face scared, but doing his duty. 'Captain's orders.'
'Damn you!' howled the engineer, and threw the officer aside. He clattered into the bulkhead, and lay there, unconscious. Unheeding, Torres quickly entered in her code and activated the transporter.
In response, the console bleeped at her, and the computer said, 'Override overridden, authority, Captain Janeway.'
'I've locked out all the transporters, B'Elanna,' said Janeway's voice behind the Klingon.
Torres spun around, crouching slightly like a cornered animal. 'Tom's dead because of him! I have to get my revenge!'
Janeway understood enough of Klingon culture to know that right was afforded to the partner of a Klingon to be avenged by killing the one who killed the partner. 'I can't let you do that, B'Elanna,' she said, keeping her voice calm.
The Klingon in B'Elanna was suddenly swept aside, in a torrent of emotions, by the human side of the young woman. 'You don't understand! I have to – to...'
'What?' asked Janeway, determined to get through.
B'Elanna crumpled, and fell to the floor, resting her head against the console. The silence that dominated for a moment was broken by the sound of her crying. Janeway stepped up and lifted her gently to a standing position. 'I'll take you to your quarters,' she murmured.
'ETA of Borg Sphere?' asked Picard.
'Thirty minutes, Admiral,' said Thames, her voice tense.
'When will our ships be in prime attack position?'
'Five minutes, Admiral,' said Worf.
Picard relaxed slightly, although his shoulders seemed too straight still. 'We have only to wait now,' he said.
'Sir,' said Hedly suddenly, 'Captain Janeway has just beamed aboard.'
A trace of pain flickered across Picard's face for a moment, and then he nodded. 'Have her come to my ready room.'
'Aye, sir.' The acknowledgement followed Picard across the bridge as he entered his ready room.
As Janeway was escorted up to the bridge of the Enterprise, she reflected silently on what she would say to Picard. Difficult to judge were her words, for she knew that she would be speaking to a man who led one of the greatest conglomerates of ships, people and power in history. And yet, she knew she also had to get through the human side of the conflict. People were fighting and dying out there, and he was indifferent.
It was at times like these that she wondered what had happened to the original command crew of the Enterprise.
The turbolift doors slid open, and Janeway stepped out onto the bridge. The Klingon, Worf, stood and nodded to her. 'Admiral Picard is expecting you in his ready room.'
Janeway nodded, and stepped towards the double doors, trepidation entering her stride.
She stepped over the threshold, and faced Picard.
Stood behind his desk, the stars behind him, his silhouette gave the impression that his body was not truly in the room. He was facing her, but she could not see the face of the Admiral, or the expression that face wore. For all Janeway knew, she might be standing before a total impostor. 'Admiral?'
'I was expecting you, Captain.' Picard's voice was unmistakable, but the tone was highly enigmatic. 'I would assume you have a complaint about the death of your crewman.'
Janeway narrowed her eyes. This man was too perceptive. 'Yes, sir. Tom Paris was an excellent officer –'
'Indeed?' Picard cut her off. A hand picked up a padd lying on a table before him. 'Joined Starfleet Academy, and received a number of reprimands and dressing downs from superior officers. Upon graduating, an event said to be tinged with luck, he was involved in an accident which caused the deaths of three fellow officers. At first denying responsibility, and then admitting guilt, he was given a dishonourable discharge from Starfleet. Later in his life, he joined the Maquis, but was captured on his first mission by a Starfleet vessel and sentenced to imprisonment at the New Zealand penal colony. He was released on conditional parole under the authority of Captain Kathryn Janeway.' Picard dropped the padd unceremoniously onto the desk and turned to face the stars. 'We have an ETA with the Borg in thirty minutes, Captain, and I do not propose to spend those minutes discussing why Tom Paris should be treated any differently to any other convicted felon.'
Janeway gritted her teeth. This was going to be harder than she thought. 'Ensign Paris was-'
Picard cut her off again. 'Ah, yes. Ensign Paris, demoted from Lieutenant and sentenced to thirty days solitary confinement for disobeying a direct order and breaking General Order Number One. Sounds like an excellent officer, Captain.' The last sentence was barely short of a sneer.
Janeway's temper broke. 'How dare you accuse a man of whom you nothing? And how do you dare to suggest that he ought not to be given the treatment that would be afforded for all Starfleet officers!'
Picard's shoulders straightened slightly, and Janeway could read the anger in his stance. 'I act as leader of the Fleet under my command. I cannot allow myself to become embroiled in individual matters –'
This time, Janeway cut him off. 'You've elevated yourself beyond your position, because you're too frightened too acknowledge the harm your decisions are doing to the people in this Fleet of yours. You are not fit to command.'
'I have been accused of that in the past,' said Picard, his brooding figure not moving. However, Janeway could hear that the calmness in his tone was forced. She decided to push.
'By whom?'
'That is not your concern.'
'Ah, but it is,' said Janeway, triumphant. 'By Starfleet Standing Order, if a command officer suspects another of dereliction of duty or of deviation from orders, he or she is open to investigation by –'
Picard turned to face her. 'I am Starfleet.' His voice was quiet.
'But subject –'
Picard leant across the desk and she saw his face for the first time. 'I AM STARFLEET! I am subject to no-one!' Picard's sudden fury made Janeway take a step back. 'I am Praetor of the Romulan Star Empire, Acting Chancellor of the Klingon Empire and Grand Admiral of Starfleet, and thus default President of Earth! I rule here!'
Janeway stared in horror at the man before her, who stood, fury and hatred written across his face, panting from the exertions to which he had just been subjected. 'You are not Jean-Luc Picard,' she whispered.
'You're right. The Aralla have changed me.' His voice started low and quiet. 'From beyond the dimensional portal they came, bringing death and terror for all before them. Even the Borg pale into insignificance before them. They destroyed Romulus, they destroyed Qo'nos. I saw them tear the warrior spirit of the Klingon race from them, and they are a proud people. They took the Cardassians, Jem'Hadar and Ferengi to pieces, and all I could do was watch. I was given more and more power, promoted to the top of Starfleet and I could still only wait and watch as they swept across the Alpha Quadrant and Beta Quadrant. Normal tactics couldn't work against them. We could only fall back, because they couldn't be touched by our weapons.' He turned, and stalked slowly back and forth, his shoulders tense, his face drawn.
'They came to Earth, and there, they began their chosen task of changing Jean-Luc Picard. There, they took part of my soul. They destroyed Earth, and killed more than ten billion people. But, more than that, they killed one of my crew, a close friend, Deanna Troi. And I simply made her a statistic, just one more number to be tallied onto billions of others. People who died because of me. And, at every battle along the way, they tore me apart, further and further. My friends fell beside me, and I still could do nothing to save or avenge them! You cannot tell me that I do not understand your grief, or your pain, or your loss! I have lost more than you could believe.' Picard had not shouted or yelled, but had merely growled a low, hoarse monotone, which, in a strange way, had been more terrifying than any outburst of fury or anger could be.
The captain of Voyager listened to the outpouring of grief, anger, and bitter self-recrimination from Picard, stunned that anyone could live with such a burden for so long. At last, slowly, she began to realise that Admiral Picard had been broken and remoulded into a new person. In many ways, and it was something Picard had learnt to live with over the last few years, she knew that he had died at Earth, along with all those billions who died under the Aralla onslaught. She was dealing with another person to the man whom she had made into a role model for her captaincy. She had better learn to deal with the man before her. 'Why – Why have you told me this?' The sound of her own voice surprised her with its strength after Picard's tirade.
'Because you must learn to accept this. I cannot have an officer in my Fleet questioning my judgement because of their misinterpretation of my character,' replied Picard, his voice now calm, but his face still terrible. 'I am no longer Captain Picard; I am Grand Admiral Picard, ruler of the Federation, the Klingon Empire, the Romulan Star Empire, and solely responsible for every life in this Fleet. I am the ultimate personification of everything that Starfleet feared; a dictator being in control of the Federation. It is a burden that I have borne for a very long time, and it is one that those around me need to recall when they deal with me.'
Picard spoke these words with no pomposity or deliberately weighted authority, but with an air of resigned sadness. Janeway knew that he was desperately unhappy with his job and his burden, but also that he felt he could not share it with anyone, because it was his fault, and his alone, that the Aralla had forced them all into this situation.
Guilt is a terrible disease, and far worse is the guilt that one puts on oneself. And when that guilt is undeserved, it destroys all that is good in a man. Picard had done that to himself. He knew that.
Janeway's heart went out to the dead man before her, sat behind his desk, protected by his shields, and his armour, and his friends – so well protected, in fact, that he now was the only one able to see his own weaknesses, and certainly the only one who would ever be able to deal with them.
Far from anger, and hatred, and sadness at Tom Paris' death, she wept inwardly for the death of the Federation. Under this man's leadership, the Federation would surely die, and it would not be the quick, clean death that the Aralla might mete out, but the slow death of a stagnating society, one which had turned on itself. And Jean-Luc Picard, the most respected officer in Starfleet, would be the architect of that death, as long as he led the Fleet.
She could only hope that the society that the Federation gave way to would be better than humanity's last failed experiment.
Was there really no hope for the galaxy?
The huge Aralla ships filled the sky for as far as Data could see. He cast another worried glance at Odo. A huge circle of black ships encompassed the Missouri, closing in slowly like a hangman's noose. 'I suspect that they won't fire,' said Data.
Odo glanced at him. 'Whyever not?'
'We don't know how those weapons will affect the Aralla shields, but I bet they do. At this range, there is a very low chance of hitting us, and they are extremely likely to hit each other if they do open fire. I suspect they will send out the attack planes.'
There was a bleep, and Odo looked at the screen, which displayed a dire warning. 'You're right. They've just launched. Intercept seven minutes.'
'Numbers?'
Odo had a slight grin on his face, one which held no humour whatsoever. He turned to look at the distant city destroyers. 'Nine thousand.'
Data's face fell. 'Not taking any chances are they?'
'No.' Their voices were unnaturally calm, totally overwhelmed as they were by the sheer numbers being deployed against them.
'They didn't use that many fighters at either Earth or Bajor,' said Data, his voice disgusted.
Odo didn't answer, but pointed to a distant ball of light off their port. 'What's that?'
Data craned to see. 'I don't know,' he said.
'Transwarp drive prepared for deactivation.'
'Deactivate.'
'Deactivated. Speed now at warp seven.'
Data looked at the scanners. 'It looks like a transwarp drive being deactivated. I'm reading a large object dropping into normal warp space, warp seven. I can't get a sensor fix on it.'
'Why not?' said Odo.
'It appears to be sensor-stealthed. But not cloaked.'
'Who has that sort of technology?'
'Everybody, except the Aralla. But it's useless no, because when you close on the object, it becomes easier to see. And a transwarp signature is a dead give-away to a ship's presence.'
'But who in the galaxy uses transwarp technology?'
Then, both Odo and Data looked at each other, horrified.
'Scanners report five Colossus-class ships, with twenty detached Cyclops-class city destroyers and nine thousand Swarm-class fighters. Orders?'
'The Aralla have come at last. The Collective is weakened after the defeat of Species 8472, and cannot defeat the Aralla so soon afterwards. Continue scanning until detected.'
'Assimilation?'
'The Aralla are invulnerable to assimilation.'
'Scanners report a Starfleet runabout, USS Missouri, attached to space station Deep Space Nine. It will shortly come under attack by Aralla fighters. Chances of survival: nil.'
A new voice joined the controlled cacophony. 'Unicomplex 001 reports encounter with combined fleet under command of Locutus of Borg in Grid 115, 814. Resistance to assimilation expected.' The last statement was interrupted.
'We have detected beacon of Unit A-1 onboard the runabout, accompanied by a single member of Species 5477.'
'A-1 will be a crucial factor in the reassimilation of Locutus. Orders: defend A-1 against attack by Aralla fighters. Ensure that they escape from their ambush.'
The Aralla ships came into range and opened fire on the runabout. Data had already swung the Missouri around, and begun to head for the strange transwarp signal.
A salvo crashed into the shields, and the computer said, 'Shields down ten percent.'
'Where the hell are you going?' shouted Odo, as he clung to a console.
'If that's a Borg ship, it might distract the Aralla long enough for us to escape!' said Data, his attention not leaving the screen.
'And if they decide that we're a threat and destroy us?'
'We'll have to cross that bridge when we come to it!' Data swung the runabout to port, and the starboard, and then back onto course, avoiding the Aralla fire.
'That's if the Aralla don't blow it up first,' said Odo, as he turned back to watch the scanners. He noted something. 'The unidentified ship has speeded up to warp nine, on a direct heading for us.'
'ETA?'
'Now.'
The huge Borg Cube rocketed towards them and shot overhead, passing by in less than a second. As it did so, green blasts of energy shot towards the Aralla vessels, slamming into the shields. The fighters swarmed towards it, opening fire as they did so.
The beams of blue energy bit into the Borg ship, tearing out large chunks of hull, disproportionate to the power of the blasts.
Data watched as the fighters broke off to attack the Borg ship. 'Looks like my idea worked.'
The Borg ship fired wildly into the pack of fighters, but failed to destroy any of them. The city destroyers closed in. Beam after beam of energy slammed into the Cube, rupturing power conduits, and destroying huge chunks of the black hull.
Explosion after explosion tore apart the Cube, as the Aralla overwhelmed it quickly. Finally, it vanished in an expanding ball of fire. The Aralla ships swarmed around it, still firing into the debris.
Data watched for a moment, and then glanced at Odo. 'Let's get out of here before they notice us again.'
The Changeling nodded. 'I'll go aft and check out our systems there.' He got up and headed for the back of the ship.
Data turned to the console, and set a new course. The runabout came up and out of it's dive – and straight into a stray beam of Aralla fire.
Inside, Data ducked as the console exploded in his face, and sparks and flames flew everywhere before the fire suppression system activated and doused them. After a moment, he got into his seat. Fortunately, although his console was destroyed, Odo's was undamaged. Propulsion was unaffected, although the starboard nacelle had received some minor buckling, and the hull was badly seared but uncompromised. Weapons, shields and life support were all down, but neither he nor Odo really needed the life support. The weapons would be back on-line after he did some minor repairs, but the shields would need much more work.
All in all, he mused, they had been lucky. 'Odo?'
'Odo?'
There was silence from the stern, and Data vaulted from his seat, ignoring the runabout's course.
Aft, he found that they had not been so lucky. Odo sprawled beside a console, his body dissolving into the gel that was the changelings' natural state. 'Odo!'
The shapeshifter looked up at Data, his face calm. 'I was touching a console. It exploded in my face,' he said, his voice strained with the immense pain.
'I haven't got anything onboard to treat you with,' said Data, his voice agonised. Odo nodded slowly.
'I know. Nobody could do anything, except Dr. Bashir, perhaps. And we're a long way from the fleet.' Odo's body was closer to full dissolution. He struggled slightly upright and whispered, 'Get to them and tell them what we know.' His voice trailed away, and he slumped back. 'I can't hold on....' He turned pain-filled eyes one last time, on Data. 'Tell Major Kira –' He stiffened, and then, just before the dissolution covered him totally, he said, 'I love her.'
Odo's body turned instantly into gel, and then into black ashes, spilled across the deck. Data bowed his head and turned away, surrendering to the inevitable, but fighting back anger and despair.
The Missouri, blackened, scarred, but unbowed, vanished into the dark as, behind it, the Aralla claimed victory over another race.
The Aralla commander had been horrified by the presence of the Borg Cube. It had been long since the Great War against the Borg, but Aralla memories were long.
He recalled the devastation that the Borg had wrought upon the Three Races. Of them, only the Aralla had been capable of resisting the strange weapons that the Borg used to enslave the peoples of the Triumvirate.
Bloody fighting over years throughout the galaxy had resulted in the Cubes and Spheres being driven away by the Aralla, but the Triumvirate had been shattered irrevocably. The Aralla had been forced into their nomadic existence, and had lost the only alliance that they had ever been part of.
They had run into the humans because of the Borg.
Yes, the Unicomplex had a lot to answer for. The Aralla were suddenly in a supreme position to wipe out the two greatest threats to their existence.
Humanity and the Borg would die.
The commander suddenly glanced at the scanner reports on the wreckage of the Cube, and tapped his finger to display more on the screen.
There was a device that the Aralla had not seen before in the wreckage the Borg ship, and it was attached to the engines. It was a device of immense power, diverted solely to feed the engines. It would be most useful....