Starfleet HQ: CIC

San Francisco, California

Earth


─•~:~•─


Mark looked around the CIC, now back to business as usual following the conclusion of the briefing. The technicians were busy manning their instruments, yeomen were keeping everyone fed and watered, and Dougie looked to be on the verge of an aneurysm.

Despite the fact that Mark had almost shot Dougie for the second time in two years, following his revelation of being involved with Red and her mysterious group, he still had a job to do, and both men had decided to carry on with business as usual. Virnas had joined Mark in the CIC with his own sad news, and Mark was desperately craving a drink.

But he had other priorities, and so he kept repeating a mantra in his mind.

Business as Usual.

"Admiral Mitchell, we're getting an urgent signal from Vanguard," Zon the CIC Comm's coordinator said, interrupting Mark's mantra.

"Probably just Auntie Lynna wanting a good luck wish," Mark said dismissively.

"Put her through Zon," said Dougie, rising from his chair in the armoured room.

Zon attempted to put the message on the screen. But nothing happened.

Mark was frustrated, "This fucking rook knows how to operate a view-screen, right Dougie?"

Mitchell walked over to the comm's station and hit several buttons to assist his comm's tech but was also unsuccessful in opening the message. Mark was about to order Virnas to take over when the overhead lights died along with every terminal in the room.

"And now you forgot to pay the hydro bill?" Mark asked sarcastically.

But a few seconds later, a hologram appeared in the centre of the room, and sarcasm died as Work-Mode took over.

First, a feint green glow spread out from the holo-emitters. Seconds later, the Avatar formed, and Mark found himself staring at the Borg Queen.

In pictures Mark had seen of contacts with the Borg Queen, she was barely human, with tubes running from the back of her head into an armoured exoskeleton that was feminine shaped in only the strictest sense of the word.

But this version of the Queen was different. Her skin was the same washed out grey of assimilation, as was Virnas' own skin, but otherwise, she was much more human looking.

This Queen had long, black hair, running down almost to her ankles. Apart from a metal piece around her right eye, there was no other visible technology on her body.

And instead of an exoskeleton, she was wearing what appeared to be a black leather long coat, over armour that looked like a form fitting version of a Molotok similar to XOF style suits.

Mark approached the hologram and stared down the new Queen.

Her eyes were deep black, and never seemed to blink.

"Hello," said the Queen, in a voice that was surprisingly feminine to Mark's ears.

There were many theories about where Borg Queens came from, or why, despite three such documented occasions, Starfleet had never been able to permanently kill her.

Virnas suggested that there was a hidden protocol within the /root/ command structure to ensure continuity, but even he was unsure, given that the Queen's executive files weren't accessible to drones like him.

"Who are you?!" Mitchell shouted from further back.

In another moment that shocked Mark, The Queen smiled at Dougie and replied, "It's always amusing watching those beneath us try to comprehend our existence. I am the beginning, and the end. The One, who is many. I bring order to chaos. I am eternal, and I shall attain perfection. I am Borg."

Virnas walked beside Mark and spoke next, unnerving Mark by sounding as though he was rightly pissed off, "Your musings are irrelevant. State your intention!"

She looked at Virnas, and placed her holographic hand on Virnas' cheek, "I warned you Virnas. You have taken something that doesn't belong to you. And now, we must hurt you."

"What's she on about, Vir?" Mark asked, still not moving from his spot.

"Irrelevant. Do not engage her in idle conversation, Most Excellent General. There is no useful information her majesty can convey." Virnas answered sharply.

"And that's where you are mistaken, Five of Eight. There is no irrelevance here. There is only purpose. And precision of purpose is the path to perfection," The Queen said, lowering her hand and looking next at Mark.

"How much my purpose has to hurt you depends on the choices that the leadership of Species 5618 makes. Or fails to make. Our lost drone has taken something that does not belong to him. Return him to us, immediately. Comply, and you may continue with your own lives."

"Or what, Assimilation?" Mark challenged, crossing his arms.

The Queen yet again smiled, "You say that word as though adding your technological and biological distinctiveness to our own isn't a vast improvement on your small, and meaningless, lives."

She walked closer to Mark, and sharpened her tone, "If you do not comply, then existence as you know it will be at an end. Your culture will not adapt to service us. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will not be added to our own. And you will not aid us in our goal of attaining perfection. You will be annihilated to the very last one of you."

"We'll fight back," Mark challenged.

"How small you are. Your species lacks greatness, cohesion, or purpose. You have twenty-four hours to comply. And as he knows well," she said, pointing to Virnas, "Resistance is Futile."

Her holographic avatar faded out of existence, and the normal lights resumed in the CIC.

And for just a moment, it was business as usual.

But then, Dougie started screaming, "It's bullshit! It has to be. This is some god damned Rommie trick!"

Virnas turned and calmly replied, "I assure you Admiral Mitchell, this is no trick."

Mitchell ignored him and continued screaming, "It's fucking bullshit! Home Fleet to full combat alert! Start running scans for Breen contacts. They won't get the jump on me this time!"

Mark raised his own voice next, "The Breen?! Dougie, for fucks sake, that was the BorgQueen just now. Get a grip!"

Mitchell next walked inches from Mark's face, "This is exactly how it happened last time! Fucking wake up! If we don't move now, we won't have another chance!"

Dougie continued screaming and called someone that everyone knew was not above Earth or Mars at the moment, "Mitchell to Enterprise! Captain Picard! Respond!"

Virnas whispered in Mark's ears, "My bio-scanners indicate he is on the verge of a mental breakdown. You need to act, Mark."

Mark nodded and walked over to Dougie as he continued to scream at imaginary ships, "Warspite! Jamie! I know your there! Marry me, Jamie! Let's get married and save Earth, just like -"

Dougie would never finish. Mark seized his shoulder, spun him around, and invoked an action he had repeated twenty years ago on the bridge of Lancaster.

With a closed fist, Mark reached back and drilled Dougie with a right cross. The impact audibly chunked through the CIC, and before anyone else could move, Douglas Mitchell collapsed unconscious on the carpeted floor.

Mark quickly raised his wrist-comm, synchronized his QC channel to the fleet wide frequency, and tried to sound confident as he spoke next, "This is General Castle on all frequencies. I'm taking command of Task Force 57, signed at 1330 hours this date."

He next looked at Zon, shocked that Mark had knocked out his Fleet Admiral, "Get me through to Vanguard and Repulse right now, rook. We need to-"

"Sir!" Zon said in interruption, "Signal from Avalon. She's detecting a Borg Ship on a heading for Earth. Captain Bakay reports she intends to engage immediately!"

What the hell is she doing?! Mark thought, but he quickly shoved his thoughts down and took over the centre seat.

Virnas looked up at Mark, "I maintain that the concept of luck is a mental impairment to confident action and precise planning. However, perhaps Avalon will be, fortunate, enough to solve this new problem for us."

Mark stared at his Liberated Romulan friend.

Despite all his threats of selling Virnas to the Daystrom Institute, he trusted Vir implicitly, at least until today.

"You better have one fuck of a story as to why the Queen wants your grey skinned ass so badly, Vir."

Virnas sighed, "I know precisely why, and I own responsibility as the cause of this event, However, we can discuss the specifics once the threat has been eliminated."

"Oh yes we will," Mark said, next turning to Zon, "Where the fuck is my Auntie, rook?!"

"On screen, sir!" Zon yelled, finally opening the channel to the battleship over Mars.

Alynna spoke quickly, knowing that her nephew didn't have the time for formalities.

"We got all that up here, Mark. I can't raise Avalon. Do you have a plan?"

Mark swallowed hard. This situation was the exact reason he never wanted the job of OC-FMC (Officer Commanding – Federation Marine Corps) in the first place.

There was too much pressure on his shoulders, and it had been almost twenty-four hours since his last drink.

Work-Mode refused to let him sweat, and he spoke with hidden confidence to his Aunt, "I do. Here's the plan…"