"I... I am not!" Rom stammered, his green Ferangi head-sheet quivering.

When we were fully materialized, Jamie and Raseen pulled out their tricorders.

            The abandoned space lab was dark, but relatively clean.  The air was a bit musty, but breathable.

            "Report?" I asked after a few moments had passed.

            "The electromagnetic atmosphere outside the lab must be affecting our tricorders," Jamie replied. "I can't..." she touched her head.

            "Doctor?" Dan inquired simply, raising one eyebrow.

            "I'm sorry," Jamie apologized, then she winced. "I'm just a little dizzy, that's all."

            "Because of all the interference, we can't even scan an one-hundred foot radius," Plin completed Jamie's thought. "We're going to have to check out each room separately."

            "Great," Dan commented dryly. "Is there any other good news?"

            "This also means that there is no way of knowing if anyone's in here with us," Plin relayed another heart-warming fact. "Someone could be right behind us, and we'd never know until it was too late--ahh!"  There was a shriek from Plimn's direction.

            Suddenly I felt strong arms wrap around me and tighten around my chest.  My wrist light swung wildly, but I could catch no glimpse of my attacker.

            "Lieutenant!" I cried, hoping Dan was still free. "Run!" Desperately I tried to reach my combadge and contact the Odyssey, but my assailant kept my arms pinned to my sides.

            "Do not move, or I will be forced to break your neck," a cool, modulated voice whispered in my ear.  Soon all movement stopped, and the room was silent.  A gag was slipped into my mouth to stifle any verbal assaults.

            "More intruders, Lieutenant?" A strong firm voice came from the darkness.

            "I believe so, Commander," the quiet voice replied.

            "I say we kill them now," a deep bass of a voice growled from a few feet away.

            "Mayhaps you're being a bit hasty, Lieutenant," a slightly accented Englishman broke in. "We don't even know for sure that they are our enemies."

            "But Captain," a fifth voice, a bit gruff, but not so severe as the last one, broke into the conversation, "what are the chances that--"

            "Computer," the Englishman was speaking again, "lights."

            Slowly, as the ancient processors groaned, the small research room was illuminated.

            I instinctively looked down at the hands that were still locked around my neck.  They were a familiar metallic white...

            I raised my head almost in unison with my other crew members... and found I was surrounded by a multitude of old friends. "Captain Picard?" I inquired as the Englishman stepped into the light.  I turned to face my attacker, "Mr. Data?"  The android lowered me to the floor and stepped back in surprise.  Also in the offensive ring around us were Ed, Commander Riker, and Mr. Worf.

            "Captain Schwartz," Picard spoke as a man who had just seen a ghost. "I greet you--but how is this possible?  We all witnessed the Odyssey's destruction on that fateful day during that pivotal battle with the Tregonians.  How is it you... survived?"  Suspicion was slowly entering his voice.

            I briefly recounted all of the happenings between the Badlands and Vigeria, including Paul's predicament, and the unexplainable accelerated decay of all the bodies we had recovered.

            "The Odyssey is in orbit overhead, awaiting my instructions on whether to land and set up camp here, or to move on," I concluded neatly. "Though I still cannot accept the fact that the Federation has fallen to a savage, war-like species such as the Tregonians in  such a short period of time," I expected immediate response, but instead, there was a long moment of awkward silence.

            "Captain," Riker spoke up, "Are you aware of what year this is?"

            "Of course," I responded slowly. "It is presently 2380, stardate 567315.3."

            Both Riker and Picard looked at each other, and there were murmurs rippling through the rest of the Enterprise's senior staff.

            "Captain," Picard began softly. "I don't know what has happened, nor do I know for what reason.  But it is not the year 2380.  As of today, it is stardate 601123.1 of the year 2385."

            I stared back at my friend unbelieveingly.  But then I noticed for the first time the Captain's appearance.  He had a beard, not a thick one, but a scraggly fixture.  His uniform was gone, replaced with patches and various over-garments made of leather or other simple materials.  Everyone else appeared very much the same, each with new or fading scars.

            "How is this... possible?" I shook my head.

            Plin turned to me, "It must have happened during our first battle with the Tregonians.  Our phasers misfired..."

            "And we must have accidentally torn open an unstable pocket of antimatter," Dan chimed in. "And mixed with the T-particles emanating from the worm hole, it must have constructed some sort of temporal vortex."

            Plin whistled morbidly, "So the Federation has been dead for how long now?"

            "Almost three years," Picard hung his head in an unusual show of humility. "Approximately twenty hours after the Tregonians left us for dead in a disabled Enterprise, the Scarlet Ibis picked up our distress call, and sent a ship to rescue us.  By the time our rescue ship had reached our position, we had already received news that Deep Space Nine had been compromised.  As soon as we were reassigned, we leapt right back into the fray, only to see Earth and the entire Federation crumble over the course of the next few years. Vigeria was our fall-back location.  Right now, there are roughly five hundred people living here, all in cramped quarters, afraid to even step outside.  There have been a total of three Tregonian investigative teams here in the last few months."

            With a deep breath, the tired captain continued, "When you four beamed in, we were afraid that one of the members of the last team might have gotten word to the Empire, and sent you as a follow-up group.  We are trying to plan a resistance, but too many people are unwilling, or too afraid to help us," Picard sighed.

            Raseen gazed again at the squalor of the people around her, "But what happened?  The Federation was confident going into this war--we thought we had a fighting chance.  What went wrong?"

            Picard's eyes contained a dying fire as he spoke, "I curse the day that the Tregonians first entered Earth's space--and I curse myself for not being there to make the difference I could have made," he stopped, then began again, haltingly. "You see, it was not a Tregonian cruiser that was responsible for Earth's annihilation... but an altered Borg cube ship..."

            "A what?" I inquired, not wanting to believe what I had just heard.

            "A cube ship, sir," Riker supplied. "Run by a positronic net on-board the Tregonian mother ship.  Apparently, the hive has been disrupted and is now run by the Tregonians," he snorted in disgust. "I suppose we could thank them for taking care of our Borg problem, but I doubt that afterwards we'd be able to thank anyone for anything ever again."

            "Borg technology in the hands of strategists like the Tregonians?  I'm beginning to see the big picture here," I allowed as the image of the regenerating Tregonian cruiser re-entered my mind.

            But my mind was still trying to grasp the concept of a universe without the Borg, "The entire Borg population has been annihilated?"

            "No," Riker said, "but their group mind is now run by a Tregonian--they're still mindless drones, they're just working for a different queen bee.  So far as we can tell, they've been devided into 'sects.'  Each Borg sect is controled by a different Hive Ruler, and contains a set amount of cube ships."

            "Needless to say, Starfleet was not at all prepared to deal with the Borg again so soon," Picard commented. "Plus, they arrived from the direction of the Delta Quadrant before the garrison sequence was completed.  We weren't expecting a rear assault--not so soon, anyway.  The garrison was down, the fleet was scattered between Earth and DS9, and Earth was a ripe target."

            I shivered--what an unholy alliance.

            "...but with the help of your ship," Picard was saying, "I think we can finally get the resistance on it's feet."

            I snapped back to reality, and the hopelessness of the situation fully asserted me, "Right," I agreed. "But I think the first step should be getting some help for my first officer.  He has been aboard a Tregonian ship, and has witnessed schematics and information firsthand," I took a deep breath and turned. "Mr. Data, perhaps you can help us with this dilemma."

            "I believe I can, sir," Data replied. "The technology Mr. Plack mentioned was very close to perfection when he and I went our separate ways.  I am willing to try and merge his mind and the body I was working on," Data said. He  went over to the adjacent wall and pushed an old-fashioned keypad.  A panel slid open revealing a nondescript, glistening white android body.  It's face was featureless, a mask of soft clay, ready to be molded, "The body is identical to my own, only lacking the positronic servos that power my limbs.  Those limbs, hopefully, will be powered by the nervous system witch Mr. Plack's own brain will eventually grow.  The whole process will take only approximately ten hours," he paused. "It should be a 'piece of cake.'" Data half-smiled at the colloquialism he had attempted.

            I smiled back, but felt dead on the inside.

           

            Paul opened his eyes.  Awareness was back with him.  He tried to remember something, anything, about who he was.  His limbs felt cold and stiff.  I am Commander Paul Plack, he told himself, first officer aboard the U.S.S... his mind went blank.  Was it the Odyssey... the Stiletto... or maybe the Endeavor...?

            He tried to sit up, maybe clear his head... but his body remained cold and lifeless.  Panic rose up within him, and he tried to scream.  But no sound came.  There was no sound, no movement, in this dark, dark prison.  So quiet, he thought. So still.  All he could do was lay silently, ever trying to move his iron limbs.

              

                 
            "Transfer is complete, Doctor," Data radioed the Odyssey. "Mr. Plack's mind has been received."

            "Acknowledged, Mr. Data," Jamie responded. "Schwartz out."

            Data turned, "All of the bioelectronic filaments are connected, and the body's servos have power.  Mr. Doyle?"

            "Brain activity is normal, all motor systems are nominal," Dan reported. "I think we're ready to give it a go."

            "We are ready for activation, Captain," Data repeated. "Now, Mr. Plack may be a bit disoriented at first, but give him some time.  I am quite certain that all of the systems will come in exactly when they are supposed to," Data stopped, and reached forward to touch Paul's activation switch.

            With a click, Paul's eyes snapped open.  They were the same almond color as Data's but contained quite a bit more life.  His face had been shaped and molded until it at least resembled the old Commander Plack.

            Paul screamed.  It was a long, lingering scream, the kind that could curdle your blood.  He screamed again.

            "Mr. Doyle: decrease sensory imput down to eighty-five percent."

            "Imput down to eighty-five percent," Dan replied. "I think we're OK now, Data."         

            Paul stopped suddenly, and sat up.

            "Whhhhoooo aaaam Iiii?" This time, all of his syllables were elongated, droning off into each other.

            "Mr. Doyle," Data began again, "increase vocal dexterity by five points, and give the cerebellum another power feed."

            Paul turned his head towards me, "Captain...?" He squinted his eyes. "Data... Dan?" He shook his head violently. "What's going on?" He looked down at his white synthetic body.  He tried to move his fingers, but his entire arm convulsed and lay still.         "Captain," he began once more, with anguish in his eyes, "What happened to me?"

            "What is the last thing that you remember?" Data stepped up to the bedside.

            Paul frowned, "I remember... beaming onto the Tregonian ship to... investigate.  Their shields were down... but it was a trick, wasn't it?" Slowly I nodded. "And then I remember searing pain.  I... I..." he screamed again.

            "Turn all of his pain receptors down to ten percent, Lieutenant," Data commanded. "His brain is trying to recreate the experience as he retells it."

            Soon, Paul was once again silent, "Pain receptors?" He questioned.  He tried to move his legs, but to no avail. "Am I dead?  What is happening?"

            "The pain you remember," I began, "was from a severe case of liquid plasma poisoning.  It eventually destroyed all of your body, along with all of your vital systems--except for your brain.  You, my friend, are a miracle of science: the first humoid."

            He looked again at his perfect synthetic body, and everything clicked, "We made it to Vigeria.  And I'm alive...," he tried to swing his legs around and stand.  They moved only a quarter of an inch. "What's wrong with my motor servos?" he inquired, suddenly calm. "I can't move my limbs."

            "Your nervous system is still growing," Data answered. "It has not yet made all of it's connections concrete.  Some of the filaments still need to harden as well."

            "The process should take approximately two more hours to run its course," Dan looked up from the display monitoring Paul's life signs. "Then you'll be faster and stronger then you've ever dreamt of being."

            "And hopefully your memory has been enhanced likewise," I commented. "I want to know everything you saw over there on the Scavenger.  Everything to the last detail.  There will be a debriefing on-board the Odyssey in five hours.  Mr. Doyle," I turned to my left, "You and Mr. Data stay here with the Commander and fill him in on all that has happened during his 'sabbatical.'  I want our senior staff as well as the Enterprise's in the observation lounge at 2000 hours."

            "Aye, sir," Dan replied.

            Slowly I turned and walked from the lab and strode to the designated beam-out point.

            "Chief," I tapped my badge, "one to beam up."

            "Aye, sir.  Energizing.

            I relaxed as the soothing beam of the transporter claimed me...

            ... and in exactly one point five seconds, I was back on-board the new flag-ship of the Federation.

            "Thank you, chief," I nodded. "Please call the Doctor, Ms. Plin, and Mr. Reagan to my ready room.  I'd like to meet with them before the formal debriefing and get the entire story from Lieutenant Reagan."

            "Yes, sir.  I'll contact them right away."

            I moved quickly to the door as to arrive before my guests.

            "Doctor Schwartz," I heard as I passed through the double doors, and out into the hall. "Doctor, please respond.  Doctor?"

            I froze in mid-stride and turned to re-enter the transporter room. "What seems to be the problem, chief?"

            "I don't know, sir," the chief replied. "The Doctor won't respond to my call."

            I raised an eyebrow, "Computer: locate Doctor Schwartz."

            "Doctor Schwartz is in her quarters."

            "Doctor, this is the Captain: please come in."

            Still there was no response.

            "Chief," I said, already in motion, "come with me."

            "Yes, captain."

            "And bring your side-arm.  There could be trouble."

             When we arrived at the door to my quarters, I stopped short and pressed the call signal.  Getting no response, I hit it a second time.  When there was no answer, I spoke quickly into the wall speaker, "Computer, override, voice authorization: Schwartz, Peter Captain."

            "Working," slowly the doors slid open.

            Carefully we both strode in, not sure what to expect.  The lights were off, and all was silent.  I began to think that maybe Jamie was just asleep and there was no problem after all.  But this was a time of war, and Picard had said that there had been Tregonian activity in this sector recently.

            "Computer," I spoke softly. "Lights."

            Suddenly, the entire front room was illuminated.  And we both saw Jamie lying asleep in bed.  I sighed with relief.  I guess I was getting a bit jumpy. "At ease, chief," I told him lightly. "I guess stress has been playing too big of a part in my life as of late."

            The chief smiled, but still looked unsettled.

            Then it hit me as well, "Wait a moment.  Something's not right here."

            "It's the Doctor, sir," the chief supplied. "She's not breathing."

            In an instant, I was at her side, "No, she's breathing--barely.  But her heart rate is down... and her hands are cold," I hit my badge. "Schwartz to sick bay--we have a medical emergency in the captain's quarters!"

*          *          *

            "What is the problem, Ms. DeDaria?" I asked tiredly. An hour had passed since Jamie had been admitted to sick bay.

            Corinne shook her head, "I don't know.  No one knows.  It's an infection that no one's ever heard of--a kind of cancer, we suspect."

            "How is she?" I inquired.

            "Well, I can tell you honestly that it doesn't look good.  Since no one knows what exactly the problem is, there's no way we can cure it," she frowned. "The Doctor's in a coma right now, and she seems to be holding steady.  I have stabilizers being pumped into her left and right, but the ultimatum is still uncertain."

            I shivered, fear gripping me, "What is your next step?"

            "I don't know," Corinne looked again like the helpless child I had once known her as, so many years ago. "I've tried everything in the book.  This infection is just too strange.  Her body seems to be taking itself apart, then reconstructing it's tissue in the wrong sequences.  We believe that it might be some sort of rare pregnancy disease, accelerated by our time shift."

            The twins, I thought fearfully, "What will become of the twins?" I asked, afraid of what the answer might be.

            "They're fine for now," Corinne allowed. "The infection has not reached them yet.  I think if we perform an emergency section, they will be spared.  But I can't be sure what will happen to Jamie as a result," she looked at me uncomfortably. "Your permission to attempt a C-section, sir?"

            "Permission granted, nurse DeDaria," I whispered after a few moments of silence. "Please inform me of the outcome.  I... I have to see someone..."

            "Everything was right there in front of my face!" I cried. "I can't believe I didn't pick up on it sooner!"  Slowly I moved over to the inviting sofa in the center of the room and sat. "All the things she was complaining about--nausea, headaches, dizziness--it was all part of the big picture..." My voice trailed off into a quiet sob.

            "Do you really see it as your fault?" Julie asked quietly from the adjacent couch.

            "I shouldn't have believed her when she told me everything was fine," I muttered. "I gave up so easily.  I should have reported her symptoms to nurse DeDaria..."

            "And do you think that would have done any good?" Julie sat back. "From what I understand, the disease Jamie is suffering from is new, even to the medical staff."

            "But still... I feel... responsible.  I, I... I don't know," I admitted.

            "You're not the bad person you're making yourself out to be, Peter.  This is your sorrow--your anger speaking.  In reality, there is nothing you could have done to save her."

            I put my head in my hands, "I've lost Tianna... I've lost Earth.  The Federation is in ruins, and now I may lose my wife as well."

            "You will have the twins, Peter.  And there is still a chance that Jamie will survive," Julie sighed. "I know you have lost much at once--more then any man should lose in a life time--but whatever you do, don't blame yourself.  There is a war going on out there, among the stars, and many people feel loses similar to your own.  You must fight for the society we once knew.  But if you withdraw into yourself like you are threatening to, then I can assure you that this conflict will never be resolved," she smiled with tears of her own glistening in her eyes. "I know you are feeling a lot of pain right now, but soon you will have two new little lives to share life with," sadly she gazed upon me and spoke again. "The pain will get better with time..."

            "But it never fades, does it?" I asked dully.

            "I wish I could say yes..." she murmured.
            And I wept bitterly--for family, for friends, for planets lost in this dark, cold, bloody universe.

            Quietly, the door chime sounded.

            "Come in," Julie said softly.

            Slowly, Corinne entered, "Captain," she announced. "The twins are alive and in intensive care if you wish to see them."

            I stood, "And Jamie?"

            "There's been no change in her condition.  She survived the section."

            I looked to Julie, "Then carry on, nurse," I swallowed a lump in my throat. "And nurse... Corinne... I want... I want to see my children."

            "There they are, sir," Corinne gestured to two tiny new borns lying in twin bassinets behind the glass of the nursery. "Two healthy baby boys.  Austin Curtis and Matthew Owen, I believe," I looked at her in surprise. "You know the Doctor and I were very close," she smiled wryly. "She was like the mother I never had," Corinne turned and pointed a finger at me. "And whether you want to admit it or not, you had quite a bit of fatherly influence on my life too...," she sniffed. "And you were the daddy I never knew...," and suddenly, I saw a reflection of my own pain on her face.  I shook my head.  There were two new lives before me.  It was a time to celebrate life, not mourn over the lost.  But somehow, I felt like weeping.  Weeping for my children, who might very well have to grow up without their real mother, without a home, without a planet.

            I buried my head in my hands, but this time, no tears fell.  Instead, I was filled with a driving force beyond will, beyond determination.  Slowly, a stoney shell of denial was forming around my heart.  I would not accept that my wife was going to die until I read the autopsy report my self.  I looked to Corrine.  Tears were welling up in her eyes, but her face was filled with almost the same determination as my own--perhaps she was facing a ghost of her own.

            But then, my gaze faltered, and slowly--humbly I fell to my knees, and prayed to God above to have mercy on our souls... and the souls of our children...

            Paul stood and strode to the front of the observation lounge.

            "Your report, Commander," I inquired.

            "Yes, sir," Paul nodded. "Actually, my knowledge gained while aboard the enemy vessel is rather limited," he admitted. "But I will table everything that I did learn, insignificant or not. 

            "According to my observations, the Tregonians' society is much like the caste society quite popular on ancient Earth, where one is born into a said position, and is locked into that position for life.  The only difference is that the Tregonians use genetic engineering in their system.  For instance, certain males are bred to be strong, ruthless, and without fear.  These would be the warriors of the generation.  Then there would be those that would be bred to be thinkers, scientists, leaders, musicians, strategists, and so on.  I have yet to see a female of their race, so I would suspect that either the females never leave their home world, or that their species only way of reproduction is by the cloning process.

            "The Tregonians' ships are completely devoid of comfort, but are always at maximum efficiency.  The Tregonians require no sleep or nourishment, so no comfort is necessary."

            "Then they are like the Jem'Hadar," Worf rumbled more of a statement then a question from the rear of the table.

            "Almost identical in that sense," Paul agreed. "Except that the former have no fatal addiction to Cordrazine white­­--they are the perfect soldiers.  Plus, to ensure success, they always operate in teams--a minimum of two warriors, one leader, and one scientist.

            "The Tregonians are an almost invincible people, especially with their connection to the Borg--but like all species, they are not without their vulnerable spots.  I propose we hit them at the very heart of their Empire." 

            Riker sat up; rubbed his beard, "You mean the Hall of the Circle?"

            "No," Paul shook his head. "The Hall is just a place of representation for the Tregonian rule.  I'm talking about the power behind the throne--Core Base."

            "Commander," Geordi said evenly, "we've been looking for that place for years.  We're beginning to doubt that it even exists."

            Silently, Paul moved to the main monitor and keyed it on, "The location of Core Base," he said softly. "I down-loaded the coordinates while on-board the Scavenger," he gestured to the screen. "Core Base is here, in orbit around the third planet of the Viridian system.  Clean, neat, hidden."

            "Plans of action?" Picard asked after a few moments  of silence.  He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table in front of him. 

            "We could do a sneak attack," Raseen suggested, "create a commando team and hitch a ride on a cargo vessel heading in that direction."

            "And probably get ourselves assimilated or killed," Beverly Crusher put in. "We don't know what kind of defenses Core Base has.  I think we should send a team to scout the area before we make any big moves."

            I frowned, "Do you really think a scouting team would be able to get close enough?  I think we need something more direct.  Something that will get their attention."

            "I say we mass the remnant of the fleet and make them pay for their dishonorable conduct," Worf growled brazenly.  Everyone turned their heads to face the big Klingon.     

            "All of the remaining fighters are at your command, Captain," Ed spoke gravely.

            I thought it over quietly for a few moments, "Captain?" I turned to Picard.

            There was a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "Make it so, Peter."

            "Very well," I concluded. "The Tregonian Empire has reigned for long enough," I looked to Paul, and then to Riker. "Mass the remnant at Vigeria, and we'll take the Tregs by surprise."

            "Yes, Captain," Paul nodded. "I'll call everyone with a shred of loyalty to Starfleet together by 0500 tomorrow.  The Federation will rise again," slowly they strode from the room.

            "Yes, we will fight," I whispered, and my eyes met both Julie's and Corinne's, "for the lost ones..."

            *         *         *