The Death Star dropped back into realspace seconds too late to know that
the single Borg ship had become two.
"Lord Vader," said the weapons operator, "we have the primary weapon trained on the alien ship's projected course. Ready to fire on your order."
"My lord," said the scanner tech, "The Borg ship is projected to be within sensor range in thirty seconds. If they try to escape after dropping back to sublight, based on our telemetry, we will have about five seconds to fire."
"Five second will be sufficient," boomed Vader. His confidence was not shared by the rest of the bridge staff, but all concerns were kept silent.
"Twenty seconds…."
The weapons operator straightened up, one hand on the firing control, the other on the target fine-tuning. Being the best starship gunner in the Imperial starfleet had gotten him this position. He would not fail.
"Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One…Mark!"
Nothing happened. No sensor blips, no warning shouts from ay scanner techs.
Vader was surprised. Based on his impression of The Borg, they would not alter course to avoid any confrontation. Unless Tarkin had truly betrayed the Empire and given them…
"Sir! The alien vessel has just entered long-range sensors. It is moving toward us at sublight," reported the sensor tech, relieved that he may yet live through the day.
"Firing range in five seconds," said thed weapons tech. He had already tuned the superlasers crosshairs on The Borg ship, and was tracking it as it approached. His finger was on the button that would signal all superlaser stations to induce the weapons power. In their drills, it had taken four seconds for all stations to activate their portion of the laser. In essence, four seconds to fire the behemoth weapon.
Vader said, "On my command…"
Suddenly, the viewscreen popped to life. The barely-recognizable visage of Tarkin, with white blotchy skin hidden behind black tubing and a mechanical eye, appeared with a furrowed brow (he now only had one), and pursed lips.
"Vader!" The Borg Tarkin barked. "I order you to stand down now, or be destroyed!"
"Fire!" ordered Vader.
The weapons tech tapped the firing conrol.
On the large dish of the Death Star's main weapon, ten laser beams converged into a single point. From that point appeared a much more powerful beam, which headed toward The Borg cube at the speed of light.
The cube merely continued its approach, heading directly into the weapon's path.
The superlaser pierced the front facet of the cube ship, easily cutting through and vaporizing a cylinder that was, in diameter, about half the length of one of the cube's sides.
The ship did not explode. Such was the power of the laser that the remains of the ship mostly vaporized, with small metal and organic particles, flash melted from the sheer intensity of the superlaser, were propelled away in all directions like confetti in a wind storm.
The scanner tech reported before he needed to be asked. "Sensors show total destruction of the alien vessel. No life signs. Nothing of the ship larger than a fraction of a millimeter has survived."
Motti hurried up to Darth Vader, slightly out of breath and haughtiness. "My Lord, the Emperor commands you to make contact with him."
Without a word, Vader turned and walked away. He entered the lift and left from the control tower. There was a collective sigh of relief at Vader's departure. They would all live for now.
Motti, however, upon taking the command position after Vader left, realized with a start that he had become Vader's second-in-command. He bit his lip and cursed silently to himself. He'd never heard of anyone surviving in that position for very long. But there was nothing he could do. He was the commander of this battle station, and Vader was the only one aboard with a higher rank than him. Motti planned to have an extra-strong drink when he retired to his quarters this evening.
The weapons lieutenant leaned over the tech manning the superlaser console. The tech was shaking his head, his hands spread over the controls. The lieutenant tried operating the panel, then grimaced and stood straight and called, "Admiral Motti!"
Motti shot the lieutenant a stern look. As servile as he had become to Vader (through pure self-preservation tactics), Motti was still in command, and demanded strict order from his subordinates. He glared at the lieutenant, who picked up the hint after about 2 seconds. The lieutenant quickly strode up to the Moff and stood straight at attention.
"This is not a Nar Shaddaa marketplace, Lieutenant. I will not have my men shouting at me from across the command deck."
"I'm sorry sir," said the lieutenant, briskly. "Sir, the primary weapon's targeting system is down. It was not designed for such tight precision, and when we forced it to do so, it probably overloaded the computer. We were not able to contact the central control station. It is possible the overload took out their intercom system."
"Very well, then," said Motti. "Go down there yourself and take charge of the repairs. Report to me directly if the computer requires any major repairs. I do not wish to trouble Lord Vader with that issue unless absolutely necessary."
"Yes, sir," said the lieutenant. He turned on his heel and headed toward the lift. By now, another lift car had taken the place of the one Vader had ridden, so the lieutenant started his ride down the several hundred sublevels to the vertex of the superlaser dish.
The lieutenant finally arrived at the master targeting computer room, expecting to see dozens of technicians and droids working on the massive, multilevel computer, and white armor-clad stormtroopers guarding all entrances and exits.
What he found instead was a massive, dark room completely devoid of any humans or droids. He reached for the light panel next to the door, but it had been replaced with a collection of glowing tubes that were warm and slick to the touch.
He was also surprised by how warm and humid it was. Granted, he was no computer expert, but he was sure that such high temperatures and humidity were damaging to electronic equipment. He stepped further into the room, looking for any signs of life.
"Technician In Charge, report!" he called out. Damn it, he was going to find out what the hell was going on here.
A figure crept up behind him. The lieutenant heard what sounded like a mechanical breath, somewhat similar to that of Darth Vader. He spun around, only to be caught by the shoulder in a steel grip. He gasped, exactly one second before the figure's other hand raised to his neck. Twin tubes protruded from the hand's fingers, inserting themselves into the lieutenant's neck. He yelped in pain.
The other hand let go of his shoulder and dropped him to the floor. He put a hand to his neck, and suddenly felt a searing pain spread throughout his body. He felt his flesh tear itself apart as something underneath ripped its way out. He lay on the floor convulsing slightly, doing all he could to distract himself from the pain.
For a second, he caught a glimpse of the figure that had attacked him. The figure looked very similar to the ones he had seen on the command deck earlier. His jaw quivered, his breath short. He mouthed one word, before losing control of his body forever.
BORG
"Lord Vader," said the weapons operator, "we have the primary weapon trained on the alien ship's projected course. Ready to fire on your order."
"My lord," said the scanner tech, "The Borg ship is projected to be within sensor range in thirty seconds. If they try to escape after dropping back to sublight, based on our telemetry, we will have about five seconds to fire."
"Five second will be sufficient," boomed Vader. His confidence was not shared by the rest of the bridge staff, but all concerns were kept silent.
"Twenty seconds…."
The weapons operator straightened up, one hand on the firing control, the other on the target fine-tuning. Being the best starship gunner in the Imperial starfleet had gotten him this position. He would not fail.
"Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One…Mark!"
Nothing happened. No sensor blips, no warning shouts from ay scanner techs.
Vader was surprised. Based on his impression of The Borg, they would not alter course to avoid any confrontation. Unless Tarkin had truly betrayed the Empire and given them…
"Sir! The alien vessel has just entered long-range sensors. It is moving toward us at sublight," reported the sensor tech, relieved that he may yet live through the day.
"Firing range in five seconds," said thed weapons tech. He had already tuned the superlasers crosshairs on The Borg ship, and was tracking it as it approached. His finger was on the button that would signal all superlaser stations to induce the weapons power. In their drills, it had taken four seconds for all stations to activate their portion of the laser. In essence, four seconds to fire the behemoth weapon.
Vader said, "On my command…"
Suddenly, the viewscreen popped to life. The barely-recognizable visage of Tarkin, with white blotchy skin hidden behind black tubing and a mechanical eye, appeared with a furrowed brow (he now only had one), and pursed lips.
"Vader!" The Borg Tarkin barked. "I order you to stand down now, or be destroyed!"
"Fire!" ordered Vader.
The weapons tech tapped the firing conrol.
On the large dish of the Death Star's main weapon, ten laser beams converged into a single point. From that point appeared a much more powerful beam, which headed toward The Borg cube at the speed of light.
The cube merely continued its approach, heading directly into the weapon's path.
The superlaser pierced the front facet of the cube ship, easily cutting through and vaporizing a cylinder that was, in diameter, about half the length of one of the cube's sides.
The ship did not explode. Such was the power of the laser that the remains of the ship mostly vaporized, with small metal and organic particles, flash melted from the sheer intensity of the superlaser, were propelled away in all directions like confetti in a wind storm.
The scanner tech reported before he needed to be asked. "Sensors show total destruction of the alien vessel. No life signs. Nothing of the ship larger than a fraction of a millimeter has survived."
Motti hurried up to Darth Vader, slightly out of breath and haughtiness. "My Lord, the Emperor commands you to make contact with him."
Without a word, Vader turned and walked away. He entered the lift and left from the control tower. There was a collective sigh of relief at Vader's departure. They would all live for now.
Motti, however, upon taking the command position after Vader left, realized with a start that he had become Vader's second-in-command. He bit his lip and cursed silently to himself. He'd never heard of anyone surviving in that position for very long. But there was nothing he could do. He was the commander of this battle station, and Vader was the only one aboard with a higher rank than him. Motti planned to have an extra-strong drink when he retired to his quarters this evening.
The weapons lieutenant leaned over the tech manning the superlaser console. The tech was shaking his head, his hands spread over the controls. The lieutenant tried operating the panel, then grimaced and stood straight and called, "Admiral Motti!"
Motti shot the lieutenant a stern look. As servile as he had become to Vader (through pure self-preservation tactics), Motti was still in command, and demanded strict order from his subordinates. He glared at the lieutenant, who picked up the hint after about 2 seconds. The lieutenant quickly strode up to the Moff and stood straight at attention.
"This is not a Nar Shaddaa marketplace, Lieutenant. I will not have my men shouting at me from across the command deck."
"I'm sorry sir," said the lieutenant, briskly. "Sir, the primary weapon's targeting system is down. It was not designed for such tight precision, and when we forced it to do so, it probably overloaded the computer. We were not able to contact the central control station. It is possible the overload took out their intercom system."
"Very well, then," said Motti. "Go down there yourself and take charge of the repairs. Report to me directly if the computer requires any major repairs. I do not wish to trouble Lord Vader with that issue unless absolutely necessary."
"Yes, sir," said the lieutenant. He turned on his heel and headed toward the lift. By now, another lift car had taken the place of the one Vader had ridden, so the lieutenant started his ride down the several hundred sublevels to the vertex of the superlaser dish.
The lieutenant finally arrived at the master targeting computer room, expecting to see dozens of technicians and droids working on the massive, multilevel computer, and white armor-clad stormtroopers guarding all entrances and exits.
What he found instead was a massive, dark room completely devoid of any humans or droids. He reached for the light panel next to the door, but it had been replaced with a collection of glowing tubes that were warm and slick to the touch.
He was also surprised by how warm and humid it was. Granted, he was no computer expert, but he was sure that such high temperatures and humidity were damaging to electronic equipment. He stepped further into the room, looking for any signs of life.
"Technician In Charge, report!" he called out. Damn it, he was going to find out what the hell was going on here.
A figure crept up behind him. The lieutenant heard what sounded like a mechanical breath, somewhat similar to that of Darth Vader. He spun around, only to be caught by the shoulder in a steel grip. He gasped, exactly one second before the figure's other hand raised to his neck. Twin tubes protruded from the hand's fingers, inserting themselves into the lieutenant's neck. He yelped in pain.
The other hand let go of his shoulder and dropped him to the floor. He put a hand to his neck, and suddenly felt a searing pain spread throughout his body. He felt his flesh tear itself apart as something underneath ripped its way out. He lay on the floor convulsing slightly, doing all he could to distract himself from the pain.
For a second, he caught a glimpse of the figure that had attacked him. The figure looked very similar to the ones he had seen on the command deck earlier. His jaw quivered, his breath short. He mouthed one word, before losing control of his body forever.
BORG