STAR TREK: WHERE NO ONE HAS GONE BEFORE
"The (Mis)Adventures of January McKenna"
By Michael D. Garcia

Disclaimer

STAR TREK(R) and all related trademarks and copyrights used by this game are the property of Paramount Pictures Corporation. This work of fanfiction is intended for non - profit and entertainment purposes only and is in no way assuming intellectual property for any previously registered trademarks and copyrights. This disclaimer is pursuant to US Copyright Law (Chapter 1, Section 107 and Chapter 1, Section 117). The following is a derivative work that is my only claimant. Thank you for not suing me! :)

Foreword

This series of chapters were originally written for the online role-playing game "Where No One Has Gone Before." This story is the culmination of the hypothesis, what would have happened if the crew of the Enterprise-D failed to stop the single Borg Cube at Sector 001 in the second part of "The Best of Both Worlds?" As a result, we made an entire RPG around that theme. Needless to say, this is very much an alternate universe Trek. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Two
Life's a Bitch, and then there's the Borg.

As she sat within the confines of one of Akagi's detention cells, Lieutenant (jg) January McKenna decided that with recent events and Starfleet's order to retreat, she would find herself behind a forcefield for the duration of her career. Taking a deep breath and blowing her bangs upward, she reached up atop her head and felt for the hair clasp holding her long black hair away from her face. When she removed it, her straight hair fell forward and obscured the cell from view. She scrutinized the clasp as she remembered that just that morning she accepted it from Ensign Kimberly Dawes to wear for her shift. It was a simple clasp made of a silver-colored metal; the end clicked into place when she pressed it into place. January ran her free hand through her hair, feeling how dirty it was. She suddenly wished for a cabin where she could take a shower, instead of the unaccommodating cell. The matted strands of her hair felt sticky to her fingers. Unzipping her wine red uniform jacket, she decided to make use of the water basin accessible within the bulkhead to rinse her hair as best as she could. Her thoughts moved back to her doomed career, as she moved her fingers through the strands of hair, until the blood was no longer detectable by touch.

A court-martial was in store for her without a doubt; she would be hauled up on several charges that, if convicted, would place her in a Federation penal colony or rehabilitation center for a long time. Questioning the orders of a starship commander and charging him with cowardice had to be based in fact before one could even think to open his or her mouth. January could not help but wince as the thought of the penalties crossed her mind. She silently chided herself for acting with pure emotion in stead of logical thought. She envisioned that she would stand before the court and explain that the massive loss drove any sense of logic from her when she spoke, that the disaster made her mentally unbalanced in a temporary fashion.

"Temporary insanity is something I would have to determine before I make my recommendation to the captain, Lieutenant," said a lightly accented female voice from outside the cell.

January pulled her head from the small alcove in the bulkhead and pulled her hair back to peer at the source of the voice. The woman had brown hair, worn in a dancer's bun, and stood facing her on the other side of the forcefield with her hands clasped together before her. It was obvious that she was a medical officer of some sort, wearing a peacock blue Starfleet uniform to denote her specialty as the sciences. Two full silver pips of a Lieutenant resided upon the right lapel of the uniform. The statement the woman made had been pulled right out of January's mind. The evidence of the woman's racial gift of telepathy caused a wave of anger to crash upon the shores of January's mind. "Stay the hell out of my head," January snapped in an angry tone.

"My apologies, Lieutenant McKenna," the woman replied. "My name is Rheanne Kiara, ship's counselor. May I come in and talk to you for a bit?"

"Do I have a choice?" asked January in a hostile tone.

Rheanne smiled at her, "You do, actually. However, if you would like to get out of that cell a little quicker…"

"Fine," January responded with a single beckoning wave of her hand. She returned to the bunk and brought her left leg up to place her hands around her ankle in a seated position.

Lieutenant Kiara nodded to the person seated at the detention lobby control station, and the forcefield was deactivated. She stepped through, and once she was clear, the forcefield snapped in its place again. The counselor approached the woman, and it was than that January got a clear look at her. She wasn't a striking beauty, but in fact, the woman was quite homely. Nevertheless, Kiara smiled at January as she spoke, "The captain was concerned about you."

"Obviously."

Kiara continued, ignoring January's retort, "He felt that because you had suffered such a tremendous loss, you were not thinking clearly. Your actions and words on the bridge could have proven a danger to the ship, and so he had you confined here."

"In other words," said January in a scoffing tone, "the captain thought I'd gone insane and had me thrown in the brig to wait for the resident shrink to declare me so."

"You're not being very fair, Lieutenant," admonished Kiara, choosing to look away at that moment.

January scowled, "Don't talk to me about being fair, Lieutenant. Fair would be me back aboard my ship, with my crew. Fair would be if the Borg never existed in the first place. Fair would be this ship placing itself in harm's way to defend Earth!" She stopped, realizing her voice was beginning to reverberate off of the bulkheads of the cell. "As Starfleet officers, we're sworn to defend those who cannot defend themselves," she said, lowering her tone significantly.

Kiara nodded, "As Starfleet officers, we're also sworn to obey orders. The captain was following the order he received from Starfleet Command."

"There is no more Starfleet Command, and it's because of orders like that."

"And Lieutenant, junior grade, January McKenna is, of course, the logical person to determine which orders are the correct ones to follow," replied Kiara in a neutral tone.

January smiled, "I would hope that each of us is able to determine that."

The counselor appeared to consider January's words in silence for a long moment. Turning to look at the imprisoned officer, she offered, "I realize that you feel that you did the right thing, but I think you have to consider that captain's position. If the positions had been reversed, I'm certain you would understand why he did what he had to."

"Counselor, were I in the captain's position, I would not have abandoned Earth."

"Why?"

"Because," began January, "there might have been something we could do to help them. Because I watched my entire ship get ripped from bow to stern by the Borg, and I had to abandon my ship. I should have stayed on board."

Kiara was astonished by January's admission. "You would have been one more name on the casualty list. You have to realize that sometimes it is best to abandon ship to save lives. Life takes precedence over honor or duty. We do our duty now by following an order to depart the sector in order to regroup and drive an offensive against the Borg."

"It will be too late."

"How do you know we won't be in time to save Earth?"

"Have you ever fought against the Borg, Counselor?"

The counselor shook her head, "No."

January seemed to scoff at the counselor's inexperience, "Until you do, I don't really think you're in any position to talk to me about the odds of surviving an attack by the Borg. We lost every ship that stood before the Borg. Do you know why the fleet was destroyed so quickly?"

"No, I don't."

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard, of the Federation flagship USS Enterprise, was guiding them straight through our defenses. He's one of them, now. Locutus of Borg," said January exhaustedly. She could still see the pale visage of the former Starfleet captain on the viewscreen, demanding their surrender. "He even defeated his own ship in Earth orbit. The Enterprise, the Federation's ship of miracles, destroyed with all hands aboard." She paused, trying to prevent herself from breaking down in front of Kiara. Once she had asserted control over her emotions, she told her, "We should have attacked while we had the chance. Even if we regroup, that's enough time for the Borg to entrench themselves in my own home."

In spite of her previous mood, the counselor seemed somber as she replied, "I see."

January nodded, seeing her point being driven home, "Exactly. Do you understand, now?"

"I believe I do," replied Kiara. "I don't see why you should not be released from your cell, Lieutenant. However, I would like to recommend you meet with either myself or perhaps another counselor, if you would like a referral."

Lieutenant McKenna sighed, standing from the bunk and addressing the counselor with her arms folded, "I don't want to see another counselor. The best therapy for me is to return to duty and make a contribution. Get me out of here."

Rear Admiral (lower half) Daniel Ross, the commanding officer of Starbase Three, was in the middle of packing up his office. The Borg had already expanded their influence from Earth and had begun moving towards the nearby Wolf 424 system, where the starbase was constructed. It was the intention of his command staff to evacute the starbase and destroy it before the Borg assimilated it and incorporated more tactical information about Starfleet that would not already get from the remnants of Starfleet Command itself.

Admiral Quinn's message from Earth had a subtext; the Federation president had decided to remain with the people of Earth during the assimilation, and the decision to destroy the Federation archives, along with Memory Alpha and Starfleet Headquarters was minutes from being carried out. Without the protection of Starfleet or its resources, and the Borg's unique ability to acquire knowledge instantaneously, it was without doubt that several suicides were effected just prior to the Borg's landing, to prevent that knowledge from falling into the wrong hands. The thought of the Federation's greatest minds killing themselves for the greater good gave Admiral Ross a mixed set of emotions.

They were about to do the same thing with the starbase, though he was confident that they would be able to evacuate every single person to safety. However, the determination that Starbase 818 was safe was tentative, given the nature of the Borg's swift movements. His staff worked hard to gather every shred of useful information from the starbase computers and transferred it to portable systems in order to take it to the newer starbase for use. Commodore Wilson had already prepared the base for his arrival and command, where Admiral Ross would act as regional commander.

"Admiral," said his aide, a lieutenant commander who walked in with a stack of pads in his arms, "Lieutenant McKenna is waiting for you in the outer office."

Ross sighed, "Very well, show her in." Lieutenant McKenna was one of two survivors from the USS Roosevelt, the other one an ensign who had deserved a promotion and reassignment to another vessel. McKenna's record showed she was an officer of promise, according to the late Captain Sotek and previous commanding officers, and evidently was on the verge of recommending she be assigned to the corvette fleet as an executive officer. However, due to recent events, the corvette fleet was not in need of officers, but ships. Many of their ranks had been reassigned to augment the larger ships that lay in wait of crew for immediate deployment.

"Lieutenant, junior grade, January McKenna, reporting as ordered, sir," she said as she snapped to attention before the admiral.

"At ease, Lieutenant," replied Admiral Ross. He pointed to one of the two seats in front of his desk, "Please make yourself comfortable."

McKenna took the offered seat immediately, sat up and remained attentive, obviously wishing to get down to business. The admiral briefly gave the lieutenant a once-over, trying to determine if she was the right choice for the job he had in mind. He was unaware of the incident that occurred aboard the Akagi, as the captain of that ship had decided that there were better things to do with Starfleet's resources than guard this young officer.

"Lieutenant," began the admiral, "I won't sit here and lie to you. We lost a great many people at Wolf 359 and Earth, not to mention thirty-nine starships. We're short on people, ships, and equipment. Believe it or not, that's actually the good news. The bad news is that the Borg are moving fast, and without the assistance of the Borg Response Team on Earth, we are largely without a critical tactical resource in the midst of this crisis."

"How can I be of help to you, sir?" asked McKenna.

"I am promoting you to full lieutenant, and assigning you to the starship Malinche," replied the admiral. "You can be of help by proceeding to the Antares Shipyards and get her ready to leave. I will be sending along her captain, who will most likely make you the executive officer."

McKenna's eyebrows rose in surprise as she heard the ship's name. She waited for the admiral to finish what he was saying to respond, "Sir, the Malinche is an Excelsior-class ship. That's a pretty unusual assignment."

"With the Borg around, we're going to need to practice some adaptation of our own. That means we put good people where we can get the best results. For all intents and purposes, Lieutenant, this is war. Now, can I count on you?"

Lieutenant January McKenna rose from her seat, and gave the admiral a firm nod, "You're God-damned right you can, sir."