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..."
* * *