Half an hour after the bizarre incident in the transporter room, Captain Sisko found himself seated in the mess hall of the Defiant with two sets of Kira, Dax and Worf. It was like seeing double, or having a constant case of déjà vu that refused to obey the laws of quantum physics. It only served to make his headache worse. He rubbed his eyes and hoped that this was all a dream, and that when he opened his eyes, he would see only one of each of his senior staff. Sisko let one eyelid creep up a little, and saw that the duplicates had stubbornly refused to go away.

Damn.

"Alright," he said, trying to muster some energy into the sullen stares of the two Worfs, the suspicious glances of the Kiras, and the inquisitive gazing of the Daxs. "Judging by your uniforms and comm badges, you three aren't just some kind of mistimed transporter accident. Am I right?"

A general bobbing of heads from the duplicates indicated some kind of consensus, so he continued. "So, that still doesn't explain your origins. Let me explain what we know so far. We detect a temporal anomaly in the Denorios Belt, and so we decide to investigate. However, when we get there, we find one of our runabouts floating around inside a rift: a runabout that, when I check, is still sitting in its landing pad back at Deep Space Nine. Before we can do anything, the runabout dumps it's warp core and is almost destroyed in the explosion. We beam the crew aboard. But when they materialise, I find three spare members of my senior crew on the transporter pad, with one claiming that I am a Borg illusion."

The Worf-replicate looked down at his boots. "My apologies, Captain. I…we all thought you to be dead. Or worse."

"Worse?" he exclaimed.

Now it was the Dax-replicate's turn. She tried to look at his eyes, but for some reason, he noticed that she could not bring herself to meet his gaze. "I know it's a lot to swallow, Benj…Captain, but you have to believe us. We don't know how it worked either."

"Well," he said, trying to nod sympathetically. "why don't you tell me your side of the story? Perhaps we can piece some of this together."

"Okay. Deep Space Nine was under attack by a Borg ship. They managed to assimilate the Lower Core, so we had to evacuate everyone we could, and I had to fly the Rubicon. As we were fleeing, a sphere broke off and pursued us. They fired some kind of weapon at us. The ship was knocked off course, into a tachyon eddy…and then we were in this rift. And the Defiant was there, too, which was strange, seeing as we thought it was in a different part of the galaxy. Anyway, we jettisoned the passenger section before our warp core went critical, but the next thing we knew, we were standing in the transporter room," said the Dax-replicate. She still looked a little stressed, but better than she had before.

Sisko tried to fight down the revulsion and fear that had arisen in his heart when she had mentioned the Borg. The last time he had encountered them, they had caused the death of his wife Jennifer, as well as the destruction of the U.S.S. Saratoga, the ship he had been serving on. That had been almost ten years ago — time had not dulled the memories of the pewter-coloured cube ship roaring through Wolf 359, destroying Federation ships left and right. He tried to distract himself. "We haven't seen the Borg for almost three years," he murmured. "and they've never come to DS-Nine."

Jadzia (Sisko's Jadzia, that is) had been eagerly tapping the story into a padd. "It's possible that these three could be versions of us from a future point in the timeline. What was the exact date when the station was attacked?"

"Stardate 53211.3," said the Kira-replicate in a militaristic fashion. "2376."

"Computer, what is today's date, in Federation reckoning?" Dax asked the computer.

"Stardate 53212.1," the computer replied.

"Well, that clinches it," Dax said to herself. "You aren't future versions of us. Unless your method of measuring time is somehow different to ours. What does the symbol of your comm badge signify?"

The Kira-replicate touched the badge absently. "It's the emblem of the Alliance. Well, technically, it's called the Triumvirate, but usually we call ourselves the Alliance or the Allies. It's a conglomeration of the Federation and the empires of the Klingons and Romulans." She caught the curious looks from her counterparts and Captain Sisko, then smiled and dipped her head. "You have no idea what's going on, do you?"

"In a word?" Sisko said. "No."

"Okay. Well, here's our history in thirty seconds. Stardate 44001.4, a Borg vessel sweeps through Federation space, wiping out a defensive fleet at Wolf 359. It continues towards the planet Earth, and enters orbit there on stardate 44002.3, ready to assimilate humanity."

Sisko interrupted at that point and said, "I follow you so far. My ship was in the battle at the Wolf system. You've quoted our own history books until this point."

The Kira-replicate frowned in response. "Then perhaps we are future versions of your crew. Anyway, Captain Picard of the Enterprise had been assimilated into the Collective as Locutus, a kind of liaison between the Federation and the Borg. He led the attack, wiped out orbital protection, and began to bombard Earth. It only took a few hours for the major population centres to be overrun by drones." A kind of sympathy flooded through her eyes before she continued. "The war continued for three years before it was over."

"So you aren't future versions," mused Dax. "Just alternate versions of us."

"Alternate?" queried Sisko.

But the Dax-replicate had picked up her counterpart's line of thinking and continued. "Of course! That explains everything. The different histories, the lack of Borg threats here…your presence, Captain," she said in a lower voice. Sisko sat back a little. Alternate universe theory. Divergent realities where history changes. My presence? Obviously, Captain Ben Sisko either never existed, or was killed, or…

"Assimilated?" he murmured in a hoarse voice.

The Dax-replicate nodded sadly. "Most likely. You were involved in a Last Stand to clear the Borg from the Lower Core. The teams there were taken by drones."

He blinked a few times to clear his thoughts. "It looks like your universe deviated from ours on stardate 44002.3, then. In this reality, the ship was destroyed in Earth's orbit by the Enterprise, and Captain Picard was returned to normal. What happened to the Enterprise to prevent it's destruction?"

Kira's doppelganger shook her head and picked up a pad, absent-mindedly pressing points on its screen. "As near as we can tell, the Borg destroyed the battle section and assimilated the saucer while it was split up. They used acting-Commander Shelby's tactical knowledge to thwart any last attempts to stop them. Ever since the war on Earth was lost to the Borg, we've had to reorganise our own hierarchies to cope with our losses: hence the formation of the Alliance. Starfleet amalgamated with the Klingon and Romulan fleets a few years ago, and we've been sharing technology and resources ever since." She sighed. "The Federation has only thirty percent of its space left. Forty percent of Klingon space has been overrun, and we're not sure about the Romulans. So far, Bajor has been churning out as many fighter craft as they can to supplement Alliance strength, but…well, let's say that the war isn't going too well at the moment. We've been subdividing the fleet into strike groups and defensive flotillas, and it can be effective up to a point, but the Borg's adaptation rate is faster than ours. We can only do so much."

There was a long silence as Sisko took the information in. It was like a Federation tactician's worst nightmare coming to life: an assimilated Earth, a decentralised Starfleet, and an unstoppable enemy who could refit their ships to compensate for new weaponry almost instantly. If these battle-worn duplicates couldn't stand up to the Borg, how could they, with the added pressure of the Dominion? He found that he could not find an answer.

"Do the Borg know about the temporal anomaly?" he asked quietly.

The Kira-replicate shrugged. "We don't know. If we could reconstruct our computer records from the Rubicon, it might give us a better picture. For now, though, we can't be sure. If they do, I can assure you that they will be coming."

The atmosphere in the mess hall suddenly became heavier. It felt a few degrees cooler, and Sisko could have sworn that the lights appeared a little darker. "Dax," he said finally. "Recover what you can from the wreckage out there. Help our friends here with their records. We need to know all we can about this parallel universe, and it's Borg inhabitants. And get me Admiral Roleman at Starfleet Command: we're going to need some help."

"Do you understand the situation, Captain?"

"Yes, Admiral, but I don't know why you continually refuse to — "

"Listen, Ben. I can't just hand over a fleet of battleships. The Dominion may be on the run for now, but we don't know if the tide will turn again. Right now, the fleet's on war duties. I can't spare anything without compromising our position."

Sisko grimaced internally and reminded himself that this was why he refused to progress to a bureaucratic desk job. "Admiral, we have to assume that the Borg will be coming for us now. The Dominion are now a secondary threat to Starfleet, compared to a Borg invasion. For all we know, a cube could have just come through the anomaly: I need extra protection here, at the station. Now."

"Captain. I don't think you…" she stopped, and apparently rethought her sentence. "Alright. You can have the Thunderchild and the Sarekar. With the Defiant, that's three ships. There's your extra protection."

He slammed his hands on the desk and propelled himself to a standing position, drilling the screen with a cold but furious glare. "Admiral. Do you remember stardate 44001.4? There were thirty-nine starships gathered at Wolf 359 to stop the Borg invasion. Everyone thought that this was a brilliant countermeasure. But everyone was wrong. One lone Borg ship swept through the sector and destroyed every single one of those ships. The Kyushu. The Excalibur. The Melbourne." He paused for emphasis. "The Saratoga. Can you imagine that? Thirty-nine starships. Eleven thousand lives. The station may not have a crew complement that high, Admiral, but we have hundreds of civilians here. And what about Bajor? If DS-Nine falls, they're next. Trust me, ma'am, they will not appreciate the Federation's wisdom if we are the instigators of their mass assimilation."

Roleman tried to return his anger, but was only partially acceptable. "Captain," she said with an icy voice, a tone that reinforced who was subordinate to who. "The Dominion made an advance towards Earth yesterday. They got almost an entire sector before we caught up to them. We lost four vessels and a starbase. I'm sorry about your experience on the Saratoga, but I think we have bigger things to think about. Our war of attrition with the Jem'Hadar is not going to be over any time soon: panicking the Federation with the threat of ultimate assimilation is not going to help matters at all. I apologise, but we have to keep the Dominion off our backs. Roleman out."

The screen blanked abruptly, and Sisko sank back into his chair. He could appreciate the difficulty of Roleman's position, but that didn't justify her outright refusal. With more force than he intended to, he stabbed the intercom toggle with his finger. "Sisko to bridge."

"Bridge here," came the voice of Worf.

"Have we retrieved everything we can from the wreckage?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. The parallel crew members are currently decrypting information from their computer core. We can return to the station, if you wish."

"Do so, Commander. And send a communiqué to the station: tell them to keep docking pylons one and two free."

"Acknowledged. Anything else, sir?"

"No. Sisko out," he said, leaning back in his chair. He felt like he was beating his head against a duranium bulkhead. They would be back at the station in a few minutes, if the subtle shift in the gravity he had just felt was their overpowered warp drive kicking in, and then they would be charged with the task of preparing Deep Space Nine as a bastion against the seemingly-overwhelming strength of the Borg. Not that Admiral Roleman cared. One Borg vessel was much larger than the station, and they would be extremely lucky if they could repel a lone ship with their own arsenal, let alone a fleet bent on assimilating the universe. He briefly considered appealing to outsiders for help, but set it aside almost instantly: most other sources would either be considered illegal or would be of little to no help. The deep revulsion for bureaucratic red tape rose within him again, and he resisted the urge to slam his fists on the desk again. "Sisko to Dax," he said to the empty mess hall.

"Dax here."

He hoped he was talking to the right Dax: they had encoded the doppelgangers' comm badges to function within their own intercom system. "Have you made any progress with the runabout's computer core?"

A sigh came down the link, and he smiled in familiarity. That was the sound she made whenever she knew something was there, but couldn't quite reach it. "It's slow going. A lot of information we've got here is corrupted from the explosion, but it was a good thing that they locked it down and secured it before they got beamed out. We're filling in as many gaps as we can, but so far, all we've gotten are peripheral reports and minor sensor sweeps. I have a feeling it'll be a long wait before we can dig up something useful."

"Trust me," he replied. "I know the feeling. I just got off subspace with Starfleet Command: they've refused to send us any more than two starships to repel any form of Borg incursion."

"What?! Two starships will hardly be enough. Benjamin, you've got to convince them to call in more — "

He jumped in before she could continue. "I have been over that point many times with them, but apparently Admiral Roleman thinks the Dominion are a much higher priority than a Borg fleet. There will be no reinforcements arriving."

Dax sighed her sigh again, and this time, Sisko was tempted to join in, too. "In that case, we can all start practicing saying 'Resistance is futile' ". He laughed, despite the grim situation, but quickly stifled it. "In all seriousness, old man, I think we're looking at a good old two-front war."

"The Borg on one side and the Dominion on the other. Not a good position." But before Sisko could reply, he heard a sharp beeping in the background, followed by Dax's voice talking to someone out of the intercom's range. She sounded worried when she finally came back on. "Looks like you should have argued with the admiral further, sir."

"Why?" he asked, confused.

"We've just picked up activity from the temporal rift. It could be a Borg ship. Give me a second to…damn. It's confirmed. One vessel, rectangular configuration, about the size of the Defiant. It's left the anomaly and is heading towards us at warp five. We can outrun it for now. Orders?"

But Sisko was speechless: a spear of terror had been thrust through the very core of his heart. He could not move, could not speak, could not even blink his eyes for the force of the shock bouncing around inside him. The electric fingers of fright were digging deep into his mind, plucking forth memories that he thought long-buried: (The huge cube drifting through space, firing deadly beams that cut down the starships left and right…Hranok, the Bolian tactical officer, working his controls, saying, "The Borg ship is attempting to lock onto the Melbourne with it's tractor beam,"…the quaking voice of the Operations officer, trying to read off the shield stability as it plummeted towards zero…Picard's face on the viewscreen, pale and distorted with cold grey metal. One arm had been extended with a whirring prosthetic, and a red sensor scope flashed at them, studying Captain Storil and the rest of the crew. "I am Locutus of Borg." Without thought, without feeling. "You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile. You will disarm all your weapons, and escort us to sector zero-zero-one. If you attempt to intervene, we will destroy you.")

"Assimilate?" he murmured to himself, caught in a bizarre limbo between memory and reality. "Like hell. Dax, bring us up to red alert. Reverse course and prepare for combat.

Dax hesitated on the other end of the line, then finally acquiesced. "Very well. Dax out." A moment later, the flashing crimson lights and the klaxon heralded the compliance of his commands. Sisko moved away from the chair and strode towards the bridge, not looking forward to the combat ahead of him.

*                         *                         *