Commander Deanna Troi-Riker swooned, almost falling out of her chair as the onslaught of emotions hit her like a small mountain. Thousands were dying and thousands more were, for lack of a better word 'life essences' were disappearing, moment-by-moment. The brutality of the destruction of Romulus was bad enough but this trickling, this wasting of life was almost too much to bear. She also felt the vileness of the Cylons and the joy they had fulfilling their programming. Every since she began detecting them at Katasi, her senses had sharpened considerably. She suspected that her constant exposure to Data's artificial emotions, in her brain, the neural pathways had begun to restructure themselves to detect emotional patterns from other non-living beings. As a defensive measure, she slammed shut her emphatic shields so tightly that she felt nothing outside the ship. This wasn't the time to faint-and she wasn't a fainter-it was time to fight.
The Enterprise-E shuddered as anti-proton beams crashed into its forward shields. The massive Extreme Basestar had targeted the ship almost an hour earlier and hadn't let up since.
At any given opportunity, it fired on the Federation ship ignoring all other targets of opportunity. The Enterprise returned fire with its phasers and iso-mag disintegrators tearing through its already weakened shields and carving large chunks out of the Basestar that insisted upon attacking her. Several other starships, being ignored by the Cylon battleship, were in support of the Sovereign warship and when the Enterprise finally fully committed to the attack, together they cut the Extreme into pieces. Quickly the group continued their retreat to the Federation neutral zone.
Several hours ago, Deanna had experienced Tomalak's rage and hatred towards the Cylons and then the Borg as they carved the defenses, then the planet itself like a roast as he had almost begged for help. When the Borg ship had appeared in Romulus airspace, there was nothing that he nor the battle-damaged remnant fleet of Klingon and Romulan war ships could do. They were hopelessly outmatched and the Rim fleet would only serve to be a wasted sacrifice against such terrible odds. The Cylons had more ships than he believed possible chasing the refugees and defense fleet, determined to kill every last one of them. Tomalak had assumed that the robots would remain near the planet for a time, allowing the refugees to escape, however, they had chosen to give chase with everything they had even as the Borg began the assimilation of his world.
She and the bridge crews watched in helpless fury as swarms of warp-capable Raiders and Hunter Killers, along with something new- a warship about the size of a Defiant class vessel- a destroyer group weaving throughout the fleeing refugee ships and warships butchering anything they could. She had never felt such pure hatred among the crew. The surviving Romulan and Klingon squadrons were fighting for all they were worth, but they were trapped in a precarious position. By fighting a running war and protecting the helpless freighters and refugee carriers, coordination was hazard at best, and they didn't dare make a stand as at least seven Basestars were right on their tail with another twelve less than an hour away.
Captain Picard had ordered the Federation transport ships to move to the distant rear as his battle group of fifty-five starships finally engaged the attacking Cylons. Picard a veteran of the Dominion wars ordered the attack in two waves, which effectively broke the Cylon wedge squeezing the fleeing ships.
"Captain. Evasive now!" Deanna had screamed. He didn't think. He made it so.
The Enterprise shields were grazed by weapons fire from an Extreme. How she knew of the attack, he was as yet unaware but he was more than thankful for it. That was the beginnings of an hour long battle against a ship twelve times its size that finally ended in the Extremes destruction. Its single-minded focus on the Enterprise had made it venerable.
Everything that Picard ordered had to be based upon his gut intuition, by feeling the flow and ebb of battle, estimating the enemy's strength, all while protecting the innocent. The same enemy who would not hesitate to destroy him and everything he valued. He hated every bit of it. It was making him cold, hardened. He was fighting an enemy that wasn't by definition alive, allied with the Borg, for Mankind's very survival. But it also became a focus for him.
Now, he was no longer seeing the Romulans as the enemy, but as another group of people desperately seeking help.
He barely noticed the Raiders and H-K hunter killers-or using the correct Colonial terminology; Hunt and Terminate kill craft- were avoiding his ship and the other larger Federation craft in favor of something that wouldn't produce unacceptable causalities. The Basestars on the other hand were his main concern. With the exception of the Extreme that had just been destroyed, the Cylon heavy hitters were designed more as planetary bombardment-weapon's platforms, with their heaviest beam weapons requiring a power-up of three seconds before activating which was more than enough time for the fast moving and smaller Federation, Klingon and Romulans vessels to get out of the way.
But the Cylon Destroyers were a nasty addition to the medley and those were the ships specifically designed to counter the larger starships, leaving the less maneuverable Basestars to lend their considerable backup and support to the rest.
They were something to be dealt with in the future. Right now his responsibility was to get the refugees into Federation space and that would not happen unless they had help. Even his fleet wasn't enough to stem the onslaught, and even now Starfleet was preparing.
Three hours into the Romulan neutral zone, two massive Klingon battle groups twelve thousand kilicams distant were waiting for the besieged ships to come into range. Each group consisted of fourteen ships whose purpose was to support the fifteenth- the Negh'Var, flagship of the Klingon fleet and it's sister the Nah'Chuk, Klingon battleships. These were two of the largest warships available to any of the three government fleets and each contained unparalleled firepower. Each sported huge twin disrupter cannons sufficient to stop anything in its tracks.
Although the beam arc radius was limited, anything within range was fair game. Combined with massive armor and shielding, secondary disrupters for defense and support ships, it was presently by Starfleet accounts, the ultimate in Klingon stand-off-and-deliver weapons platforms. The ships were fast although not very maneuverable and appeared to be the effective against planetary and orbital placements. The Negh'Var had survived the Dominion war and even overwhelmed the Deep Space Nine during the Federation-Klingon dispute, for a time. It could easily hold its own against the Hellions but now the Extremes were coming into range, by-passing the others to get a crack at the top-of-the-line Warships.
Klingon Battleships and Cylon Extremes began trading long ranged, hi-intensity shots at one another. Shields on both sides flared brightly as they continued moving closer to one another.
Onboard the Negh'Var, the crew was still in awe at the unprecedented sight of Chancellor Martok and Kahless, standing next to one another watching the battle as it progressed.
Normally each avoided the other, political and social differences usually kept them on opposite sides, but not here and not now, with the threat of extermination on the horizon as the destruction of a large piece of the Romulan Empire had so clearly shown.
Chancellor Martok of the one eye, had been thrust into power by Worf former security officer of the Enterprise-D and later part of the staff of Deep Space Nine and in revenge for this 'honor' he made Worf an Ambassador. In fact he enjoyed the post, bringing much needed stability and reforms to the Empire. Even the attempted assassination plots had dwindled in the recent years as the Empire began to prosper once more.
Kahless, a cloned image of what certain historians thought he should be, stood smiling at the power erupting at his feet towards the enemy. He was the moral center of the Empire now.
The children were following in his example now, and it clearly showed by the improvement of relations to just about all of governments they now associated with. That alone justified his existence, although at night he would dream dreams. He never remembered them or so he said and the doctors attributed them to 'genetic memory'-nothing to worry about. But the dreams did come and in them he experienced carnage and destruction on an epic scale. He dreamed of the animal in him, destroying everything in his path to glory. Honor was in the winning and winning the only thing that guaranteed the path to power. He dreamed of physical features that reminded him more of the humans than true Klingons. He dreamed of his great grand father, telling him how he and his brothers killed the Goul'kids snake gods and their Karffea slaves that possessed the bodies of the unworthy, giving them unnatural strength and power. And how his people screamed and raged as they threw the 'wheel of heavens water' into the bowels of an active volcano. Then, he would awaken sweating and occasionally screaming at the dark as dreams and reality collided. Then reality dominated even if it did appear to have shifted from what was to what is. Yet the dreams were terrifying and exhilarating but like so many other things it did not control him. He was the moral center and would continue to be so. This time was his and he was more than willing to share it with his fellow warriors. He grunted slightly as Klingon disrupter cannon fire smashed into an Extreme, causing its shield to buckle. The ship was in turn bounced savagely by the Extreme's counter fire, which was almost equal in strength.
"Most impressive," Kahless said hunching over tactical. "Effective range, one point two light seconds accuracy. Their bloodlust is worthy of battle."
"We battle for honor and survival. But this war is something new," Martok answered. "The enemy has an extinction agenda. And we will never allow our dead to remain un-avenged. Evasive!"
The ship turned slowly enough to miss
being hit by combined strike. The ship
returned fire itself missing its target.
As it fired a battery of torpedoes, the first of close to almost a
thousand Romulan refugee ships of all descriptions, passed by, seeking the
safely of the Federation border. There
was no organization to them, simply a mob trying to get away. One ship, 'his captain obviously a fool'
Kahless assumed, flew too close to the shields of the Nah'Chuk, slamming into
them, destroying the small vessel in the process.
"Order our escorts to
destroy the Cylon small craft and support the warships," Martok said. "Began the retreat," he
ordered. The crew scrambled to him and
the ships began to reverse all the while firing and maintaining the distance
from the oncoming Basestars bearing down upon them. Even now they were in the middle of the running firefight.
"Kahless," Martok
said. "There was a time not long ago that I believed that our greatest war
would have been fought against the Federation.
Then came our own civil war, then we did fight the Federation, then the
Borg invading our territories, then the Dominion and now this." He and Kahless grunted in pleasure as two Raiders
were ambushed by a Bird-of-prey.
"I have hand enough glory for two lifetimes."
"And now we help our
enemies, both of them," Kahless answered slowly. "You are correct.
This is a glorious time to live and fight."
"The Federation is not
our enemy," Martok countered.
"We are more alike than we believe. There may come a time when human and Klingon together will
become one vast power."
Both warriors laughed heartily. "The good thing is that we won't be alive long enough to see
it! Maybe our children, but for now…"
The bulk of the ships had now
passed and the Klingon behemoths were running rear guard. Five Basestars fired long-range missiles and
the Negh'Var's shields dropped fifty percent.
Immediately the bulk of the Klingon fleet and several Federation heavy
warships turned and swarmed the enemy vessels, which veered off violently. T he
combined fleet then regrouped quickly and again sped quickly towards
safety. The Basestars regrouped also,
now re- enforced with three of the closest support Basestars and gave chase
again. It was crystal clear that they
intended to pursue this matter until the end.
Both Klingons smiled even as
their ship was rocked again. This War
was truly glorious, simple and to the point. It was going well.
The Battlestar Pegasus and its Wildfire
Squadron, consisting of a half dozen Federation Steamrunner, Sabers and
two Excelsior-Starships and, an equal number of Klingon Bird-of-preys,
with two Vor'cha cruisers, and Colonial Adders, de-cloaked behind
the Hellions and Extremes to their completed surprise.
-And fired point blank into
their ranks. Three Basestars disappeared in the conflagration and three more
were more damaged beyond their ability to self-repair.
"Commander Sheba, all
ships have fired," the female Klingon tactical officer yelled.
"Success, The pat'cha run!"
Sheba's thin smile served only
to make the woman smile broader. Her
President and her husband's insistence on mixing the crew had mixed
results. But without a doubt it seemed
to be work. Oh, there were a few times
when she thought it world be better to go to the Gamma quadrant and start a life
there. Klingons didn't work well with
humans she found out- unless you tried to beat the crap out of them. Then they started liking you. But there was no denying that they fought
well. The challenge had been learning
how to work together with them and the Federation. This was their first real test.
So far, so good.
Commanders Starbuck and Bojay
were off to the side directing the light attack ships, which now ran
interference against the returning Raiders, Hunter-Killers and the new Cylon
destroyers that abandoned their attacks on the refugee vessels and returned to
deal with this new threat. Starbuck's
concentration was so complete that he might as well have been out them with
them. His squadron attacked as a group
while Bojay directed the second wing in support of Starbuck's initial wave.
The Pegasus along with
its own attack wing went directly at the three damaged ships. Her powerful Klingon-based quad disruptors
ripped into them along with the added firepower of the Federation Starships and
the new plasma based disruptor beams from the Klingon Cruisers obliterated all
traces of the doomed ships. To the
Cylons it was clear that the threat was the updated Pegasus. It had been turned into a Cylon Killer, pure
and simple. It's energy weapons sliced
through shielding and modified armor with an ease not thought possible. Their shielding frequency had been somehow
compromised and in essence they were defenseless. The Extremes responded with a vengeance but were forced to
beak off almost immediately as the returning Alpha combine came into range.
"Well done daughter," Cain said.
The man had been twitching during the entire operation but to his credit he
never said a word unless asked. He
almost suffered a stroke with the effort but he remained in control-until
now. "You can finish them all off
easily while we have them disorganized." His eyed now blazed with the
anticipation of the battle to follow.
"No," she said quickly,
ignoring his surprised, then disappointed face. "We were lucky and we have the people to escort to safety. I'm ordering us to re-cloak. They won't chance chasing the fleet for a
while, not with the threat of Wildfire hitting them again."
"There's too many. We need to cut down on some of them, keep
them disorganized until we can strike back in force."
That's not the plan, father,"
Sheba retorted, trying desperately to keep the tension out of her voice. "We're escorting, just as we did so long
ago."
"Of course, of course," he
muttered. He began twitching once more,
but he said nothing. She was correct
but his blood was burning for another fight with the ancient enemy now that he
was in his prime. He knew he was going
to have to get an active command soon or he'd go crazy. "You're right in your assessment,
Commander."
Sheba nodded as she sighed in
relief. He hadn't blown up yet. But they were going to have to do something
soon.
Nine billion survivors on the planet Remus panicked, fought back and killed themselves.
Their military had abandoned them, not by choice but by necessity. But that didn't matter to her. It had been a waste to lose the population of Romulus. Drones were sorely needed and supplies were getting hard to find. The Delta quadrant was vast but as with any good conservationist, she and her sisters had no intention of draining it completely, especially not now when everything was coming so close to fruition. The Cylon had kept their promise and gave them Remus. Already the collections cubes had exited transwarp space and had begun processing the new drones. As usual, many were injured and minor repairs would be implemented before the drones would become fully functionally. Unimatrix One needed rebuilding. The future was beckoning. The time of the child was coming soon and when the children were fully assimilated the Borg, and then this galaxy, would achieve the perfection that had been denied them for so long.
As assimilation proceeded, the Borg Queen looked on in dismay. The biggest problem the Collective had was time. There were many on this planet that were unworthy of assimilation and would thus be ignored by her drones. But already the maturation pods were filled and tens of millions had been already collected in transporter stasis-people and materials stored as energy patterns for long periods of travel-to be processed at a more convenient time. Ten percent would be lost but that was irreverent as time was of the essence. With the materials available it was calculated that only seven billion would be liberated.
On hundreds of worlds, it was always the same. Beings protested their ascension to perfection. They never understood what was best for them until they became part of the Collective. Then they came to understand the gloriousness of it all and the ultimate purpose.
The perfect blend of machine and organic represented the absolute pinnacle of evolution. The children were the templates of perfection, but they were individuals, and they had fought the Borg bitterly.
The Cylons, in their floating star bases were another matter entirely. Assimilation was not possible. Their programming defied Borg nano-technology and so far the Borg had not found a way to overcome this problem. At this time, the Cylons were needed to complete their task of securing the children, but the instant that was achieved, she had determined that the Imperium would be utterly destroyed. They could never be allowed to complete their own evolution. If they did then the resultant war between the two powers would devastate everything in this galaxy and beyond. Even the Collective was divided on this matter-destruction of an enemy and the loss opportunity to acquire the Children, or a future fight between a perfected Borg and an ultimate machine race.
Even here, there was the possibility that the Cylons would again use their subspace weapon and destroy valuable Borg resources. The issue of trust was very fleeting. She preferred to finish her work and leave as soon as possible.
"Increase the collection rate," she commanded.
The Borg were everywhere, infecting anyone they came in contact with. Those fortunate enough to watch while fleeing saw entire crowds-tens of thousands-disappear as Borg transporters carried them away to their fate. The entire planet convulsed as the huge cubes mass and graviton units affected the planet's gravity. The seas were ripped out of their eons-old beds as the Borg sifted for hidden treasures beneath them. Entire mountains were vaporized as the Borg located and assimilated secret bases once thought safe from the attacks.
In the small township of Glisic, hundreds of Remans huddled inside a small gathering center in the desperate and futile hopes that death would pass them by. As with the planet Romulus, the Senate had forbid weapons on Remis, and the result was that they were helpless.
Knives and makeshift lasers were no match for the Borg. For days millions have been fleeing the nearby city, flooding the countryside in their panicked search for escape. Like the Borg, the dead were everywhere.
Surprisingly after three days, the Borg cubes left. But now something worse had come to take their place.
The Cylons were here to finish what they had begun. Of the one billion or so that remained, most died immediately as the Hellions and Extremes bathed the planet with their neutron disrupters for six hours, standard procedure. By the end of this there were few things living.
The Cylons transported to the scorched surface and began hunting down the survivors.
Hundreds of thousands were slain-beheaded in an orgy of slaying-by centurions of all descriptions. It was their intention to keep their promise, to eliminate the life form known as Romulans. What the Borg didn't take, they would slay.
The entity called Iblis watched in anticipation and amusement as his children slew every being they could. The ruination imperatives demanded the flow of blood.
The dark being traversed the planet occasionally stopping a beheading as it suited him. So far, three had been saved for the simple reason that they, in their own darkness, reminded him of himself. They would be useful for the times to come. Those he transferred to the small town of Glisic.
He materialized suddenly into huddled masses. The suddenness of his appearance terrified the people, several of whom attacked him; he shrugged off the attacks easily, leaving his victims cowering in the far corner. He allowed himself to glow slightly to capture their attention.
They were dirty, and hungry each possessing raw emotions ranging from fear to acceptance of their fates.
He was dressed in a gold and white, long flowing robe that was flittering royally even though there was no wind. His facial features were vulcanoid, blended with the unique appearance of the Remus population. His ears were unusually longer and more pointed. His eyes blazed with power.
A thirty-something year old female tentatively moved towards him as her curiosity overcame her terror.
"Who are you?"
"I am your savior," he whispered, loud enough for the whole world to hear. "Come with me. Follow me of your own free will and I will give you joy and power beyond your wildest imaginations."
The woman, completely awed by Iblis' presence, moved closer. The power that emanated from this being was unmistakable.
"Will you save our world?"
"The world is doomed," he said. "I cannot save it, because to do so would upset the balance. But I can save you, if that is what you want."
"What do you mean, upset the balance?" another woman asked.
"What has happened here was for ordained before the beginning of the universe. Only a few would escape the universe's wrath. I am that doorway to safety."
He smiled graciously as the fugitives began to warm to him. And many did see him in the light he'd projected.
-But not all.
One of the men that had been knocked about confronted him. There was enough suspicion etched across his face that Iblis knew simple words would never dissuade him.
"You are not what you appear to be," the man snarled. As he moved through the crowd, the entity relaxed and became seemingly more passive. "You're offering slavery, not freedom. You seek to take advantage of us."
"There is no US," Iblis corrected. "Only YOU." His eyes blazed slight as he continued to speak. "I offer a choice to escape the wrath of the Cylon storm following you. I will not force anyone who does not wish to be saved to come with me." He looked closer at the man reading him as one would read a book. "You were a centurion, pledged to give your life for your people were you not?"
The man became defensive. No one was supposed to know this.
"What of it? It does not change anything. You are an alien trying to take advantage of us," he repeated. "You make yourself to be our savior. Why do you want us? Do you want us to bow down and worship you as though you were some type of god?"
Iblis laughed pleasantly.
"Freedom of choice is the greatest gift of all. I cannot force you to do anything and I cannot take you against your will." He laughed again. "There is no God, not by your comprehension. There is only me. Come with me and live.
As he spoke, two Cylon Raiders came in screaming intent upon destroying the roads leading to safety and remaining refuge. Suddenly both thunderously exploded into vapor the instant Iblis clapped his hands. Many of the people who witnessed the miracle suddenly revised their initial impressions of him. Most were now in awe of him and he soaked up the praise that ensued.
He was rudely interrupted by a hysterical scream by some child staring out of a window.
Another scream was heard by the image of golden and silver streaks running towards the townships with enough speed to generate dust trails. There were hundreds of trails converging on them. There was a vicious firefight just outside the town where others attempted to make a stand. Within two minutes the fighting had ceased and the dust trails again closed in on the doomed town.
"Chose quickly," Iblis whispered to all of those present.
Over ninety percent gathered around him. He smiled again and lifting his arms, the multitude faded away. His demeanor changed, became darker, far more menacing. His face changed into something repulsively beautiful to those that remained.
The Remian centurion covered his eyes at the dark beauty facing him.
"Devil," he screamed.
Both the Romulans and their Remus cousins understood and remembered the dark forces that their ancestors had whispered of in the distant past. Most of those stories were attributed to superstition or possible alien in origin. However what faced him was something else.
"Soul taker," he said before he realized it.
All of his atheism had vanished seconds ago. He was a believer now.
"You and the others made your choice," Iblis said smiling again. "The Devil takes his leave," he laughed, fading away, slowly leaving only his eyes and grin behind to flicker out a moment later.
A moment's hesitation- and despair- and the centurions and the rest made their final stand as the splintered opened revealing a dual eyed monster and two seven foot silver Cylon warriors behind it carrying short swords.
"By the command," the three said simultaneously before rushing in.
DEEP SPACE TWENTY-THREE: THREE DAYS AFTER THE FALL OF THE TWIN WORLDS:
Ambassador Spock watched without a trace of emotion as an ever-increasing number of Romulan refugees crowded the main docking area completely fearful of the narrowed eyed Federation security guards keeping a close eye on their every move. Most were bleary-eyed and dirty, fearful of the new surroundings and ever mindful of the fact that they were in a Starfleet installation, the very place that their own government condemned generation after generation as the greatest enemy the Romulan people ever faced. They were the few; all that were left of the People of the Twin Worlds. Hundreds of Romulan vessels of all sizes waited within range of the station, preparing to go somewhere anywhere to escape the slaughter. The remains of the Romulan fleet huddled close to the ragtag convoy of ships, prepared to fight to the last against darkness of the Cylon Imperium. The Battlestar Pegasus and its Wildfire squad towered over them all ready and willing to take on anyone that would dare harass these people.
And the battalion of ironies did not escape any of those present to witness the event.
Spock said nothing as the blond-haired woman walked up and stood by him. He could feel her hatred of him emulating from her, but he still remained passive. He was Vulcan and in control of his emotions. He was human and thus understood the value of emotions. After close to a hundred fifty years of living-and dying-and living he had finally achieved a true balance that he could live with. The woman next to him, a product of human mother and Romulan father, never had the luxuries or friends that he had been honored with. She was as much a product of her life as he was a product of his.
"Spock," Sela said with her usual venom. His very name was spat out like a curse. "I guess you win again. Unification will occur with the Federation and Vulcan, but not as either one of us quite planned. You must be so happy that the Federation has won. Oh, I forgot," she hissed. "Vulcans don't have emotions do they?"
"Sela, I grieve for your people." Spock announced his voice cracking. "A small portion of your people has been saved. But it is only a temporary situation, at best. If the Cylons and their allies decide to attack, there will be no Vulcan, indeed no Federation for you to rant and rave against. It is time to place our petty differences aside and stop those that would attempt to destroy us."
"Why didn't you tell us that the Borg were allied with the Cylons?" she hissed again, her hatred threatening to broil over.
"It was only report, an unsubstantiated rumor from a, at best, dubious source," he said quietly. "Your people knew of the Katasi construct months ago, yet you said nothing. But you did not care even when your people knew the true purpose of the device to inform the Federation of the danger. You could have but again you said nothing. The Enterprise had to obtain the information independently of the Romulan Empire."
Spock watched as Sela's eyes narrowed at the word Enterprise. She hated that ship almost as much as she hated Spock. Her run-ins with the crew of the Enterprise were as legendary as her failures. Her creditability was completely macerated-until this latest war. Sela had worked her back up the chain of command and now, this. To her credit she kept her mouth shut.
The fall of the twin worlds Romulus and Remus had come as a devastating shock to her and everyone who had heard of the news. Romulus was now a barren, dried radioactive wasteland, the result of being exposed to enough radiation to fry the atmosphere and their small seas twenty times over. As horrific as that was, the fate of Remus was probably worse. T he Borg had come after the devastation of the Romulan defense fleet by the Cylons. The planetary batteries were battered into submission within hours by an unceasing hail of anti-proton beams. Then the Cylon war fleet watched as several ten kilometer long 'factory' cubes exited transwarp and proceeded to orbit the planet, transporting thousands upon thousands of Romulans into their processing areas to be assimilated. By this time it was clear that the Borg chose to relocate their victims rather that simply convert the planet itself. Hundreds of thousands of her people chose to commit suicide rather than submit to the oncoming terror.
Before Sela and what was left of the defense fleet had moved out of scanner range, they had counted at least ten of the monstrous ships orbiting the planet. Millions had undergone the beginning of the dreaded process, millions who were taken away to continue to live a life worse than death. Indeed, even death was irrelevant.
The Rim fleet, despite their reluctance, complied with the order to turn back, not to engage in a fight they could never win. Instead they retreated back to the edge of the Empire, to gather and prepare their own defenses as they could. Spock knew that they would fail if the Federation and its allies didn't stop the robotic race soon.
Spock dressed in traditional Vulcan robes moved easily through the throngs, despite his age, while his Romulan shadow followed behind closely. Despite her new standing, third-in-command-of-what-was-left-of-the-defense-fleet, he knew that she felt uncomfortable on this Starfleet station. It wasn't that she was afraid as much as the feeling of helplessness in the situation dealt her and her people. It had been proven to her beyond a shadow of a doubt what so many philosophers from all over the galaxy had said time and again; power is realized to be only illusion when take away. That which does not exist is unreal. Now she and her people were dependent upon the mercy of those they hated most.
He allowed himself an instant's pity.
As he and his despondent ally approached the diplomatic corridor they were met by two guards who ushered them into a small room filled with representatives of Starfleet and the Colonial-Mariposa colony. Captains Janeway and Riker, she recognized. Then, there were the others. Sela hissed slightly as she caught sight of the focus of her hatred.
The man returned her glare with a mixture of sadness and fierce determination.
Spock slowly placed himself between her and the white haired Adama.
The fury in the woman's eyes was unmistakable as she literally hissed at him. For a moment, Adama felt as though his heart would break. All of his nightmares had come true and he felt responsible for yet another civilization succumbing to the horrors of the Cylons. Instead of backing away however, he moved towards her, something she hadn't expected.
"I am sorry," he said simply.
"President Adama," she answered, his very name coming out as a curse. "The leader of the Battlestar Galactica," she continued. "Savior of the Twelve Colonies, the farsighted one who led his people to Earth, the so-called thirteenth colony. How does it feel to know that your actions have led to the destruction of my worlds, something that your earth brethren have failed to do in the last two hundred years?"
Adama refused to be baited by such an obvious trap.
"The Colonial did not destroy your worlds, but our enemies did. If we had been aware that the Cylon, would be transformed as they have been, we would not have taken the direction we did."
Sire Forsen broke into the tense conversation.
"Commander," he started. "The fact is we're here. Your people have suffered as greatly as ours have but unlike you, we would have helped your people. Make no mistake, I've studied your Empire and I know that if you had found our fleet first we wouldn't be having this conversation now."
"War," he continued, "is indifferent. We have an enemy more ruthless than the Dominion, prepared, able and willing to wipe out everyone and here you stand trying to assign blame like some child."
"A child?" She couldn't believe what she'd just heard. "My people are being assimilated by the Borg, being killed by the Cylons. Our civilization is being destroyed and you're lecturing me about blame? Humans! So arrogant!"
"Calm yourself," Spock said slowly. "Your constant bursts of illogic are in no way beneficial to the meeting at hand. You are here to learn why things are the way they are."
"Illogic! I hate Vulcans! I hate humans!" she screamed impotently.
"Your hatred has always been your weakness," Spock replied emotionlessly. "Are you not curious as to why you are here at this meeting?"
Silence.
She sat arrogantly and looked around at everyone.
"Well?"
Captain Janeway sat next to President Adama, touched a PADD, which caused a three-dimensional image of a silver Cylon centurion to appear.
"This is a Cylon centurion," she began, "the way they used to be. In this form, they would not have presented us with the grief they have now. Notice the primitive state the obsolete technology. Now, take a look at this upgraded Cylon," she said touching the PADD once more, which showed a modified Cylon warrior. "This transfiguration is the result of exposure to modified T'kon engineering."
Sela's eyes lit up in understanding, but said nothing.
"When the Colonial fleet passed the remnants of the T'kon, a signal was transmitted which attracted the Cylons to a sort of service station which reconstructed the entire species. Once this upgrade was completed then the second phase was initiated."
"Initiated what? By whom?"
"Count Iblis," came the answer.
She watched as shock rippled throughout the Colonial representatives.
"Who is this Count Iblis?" Sela asked. If he was one responsible for all of this-
"I will explain the what of him shortly," Adama said. "But first you must understand what is happening."
He looked at Janeway. She nodded briefly and continued.
"The Cylon Empire as we know it, is fulfilling a directive programmed into them close to a thousand years ago, called the ruination imperatives by this same Count Iblis. Its purpose was simple; subjugate and or destroy anything that did not conform to their expectations. The imperatives were first activated during the time of the first Cylon war, in which their servants, these robots, exterminated their creators. When the Colonials went to war with the Cylons, the imperatives were not reactivated but the directives were still in effect, which is the reason why there could never be a peace settlement between the two of them and it's also the reason why the Cylons persistently pursued them throughout the galaxy all these years."
"Now, Count Iblis is, for a lack of a better definition, a higher entity much like the Q, or the Organians. He has paraded himself as a benevolent being to many, many races. However, the best way to describe him would be to identify him as a trickster, a Lord of lies, a devil if you will with the power to back it up. He originates from a race called the Del Fray or Seraphs, who for the most part have kept him in line. Being under their control he has been kept on a tight leash. However…"
"However," Sela surmised. "He found a way around the restrictions."
"Exactly," Janeway finished. "He is not permitted to use his powers directly unless one give themselves over to him of their own free will. He then has possession of that person or persons."
Adama spoke up now. His voice was strong and one could hear the distaste in his voice as he spoke.
"He tried to destroy my people and almost succeeded. He used his voice as the template for the Imperium Supreme. He is arrogant and over-confident. He is not a fool by any means but he does have a weakness, which brings us to the point of this war."
He was about to continue when a disembodied voice blocked his own voice out.
"This entire war has been created for one purpose only," a voice said.
A flash occurred and Q was sitting between Sela and Spock's. Several people jumped out of their seats, including Sire Uri who moved quite spryly for an old man. He was dressed in Colonial presidential robes with Starfleet admiral's pips attached to the neck collar.
"Iblis wants followers. Devotees with whom he can play with." His voice became deadly serious. "This war is just the beginning. The Cylons, his children, intend to destroy as many of you as they can. He believes that either way this slaughter ends, he'll win."
He continued his explanation to a rapped audience.
"If the Cylons win, then the resulting chaos will win him thousands of followers, survivors of the war who will trade their very souls for the salvation he wants to bring. On the other hand, if his children lose, there will be so much misery that millions of survivors will flock to his cause. But that in itself is minor."
"Minor?" Sire Forsen yelled echoing Sela and Riker. "You're talking," Forsen continued, "about the death of billions upon billions of beings so that Iblis can have few slaves to do his bidding! The creature is insane, but your callousness about the entire situation is even worse!"
Q popped up next to him, literally eyeball to eyeball.
"Please," he said coldly, his voice full of indifference. "You people have been butchering yourselves ever since you got kick out of that garden."
"I don't understand," Forsen said, confused by Q's words.
"Billions? Tens of billions would be a better estimate," Q said ignoring the man's confusion. "And that's just the beginning."
He looked over at Sela and the next moment he was seated next to her while Spock had been transported to another chair on the opposite side of the room. Characteristically, one eyebrow rose up as he murmured the word 'fascinating'.
"You look so much like your mother, you know." He said to her. "A little less exciting, but one can't have everything can we?"
For a moment, Q believed that Sela was about to hit him but she resisted the impulse.
"Good for you," he whispered, so softly that only she heard him. "It would be a shame for me to have to explain exactly to whom you are dealing with. Your existence is a flunk, a mistake of nature, and an oversight of a temporal cold war you know little to nothing about. The Enterprise-C was pulled into the present and splintered reality. They were destroyed- and they were lost, depending upon your understanding of reality and temporal physics, and you were born to Tasha. She is dead-but she's not. You could have learned so much about her, you know. If you want, I could transport you to where her counterpart is right now. That Tasha is in another universe, mixing it up with the humans and the dark Shadows of that reality. Let me know if you want to participate in that one-way trip. All you have to do is ask. Besides, all your plans, the Remans, all of it, is over. Your carefully laid campaign has gone to waste. Your Nemesis is lost to you."
He smiled deviously as the greenish blood drained from her face. Ignoring her now, he continued with the main thrust of the conversation.
"As I told Katie here," he laughed, watching Janeway snarl at him, "and as you may have noticed, your friends the Borg are in league with the Cylon Empire. This in itself is highly unusual as the Collective is into collecting, not associating. But the Cylons have access to something that the Borg wants. The children."
"What children?" Spock asked.
"I'm glad you asked that question Mr. Ambassador Spock. Love the gray hair by the way," he added. "That's the reason why you're here. Several score by your reckoning of course, or should I say one hundred seven years ago, the year was twenty two seventy one and Earth was visited by a certain probe-which was?"
Suddenly, Spock understood why he was here. Everything fell into place.
"V'Ger, or Voyager six."
"Right on the first try, Spocky boy. That little Voyager, not yours Kate, fell into what was once called a black hole. Actually it was more of a wormhole, which led to the other side of the universe. Now, in the vastness of space in the galaxy, called by the inhabitants of the Alpha quadrant the Milky Way, there exist great and terrible powers. The Borg a collective organism, who inhabits the Delta quadrant have destroyed and subjugated countless worlds in the name of 'perfection'. To encounter them is to invite death or worse than death-there is the loss of identity, the loss of freedom, the loss of privacy, and the loss of choice. To those who become Borg, even death is irreverent, as Picard well knows-you too Katie. "
Sire Forsen quietly turned to Captain Riker and nodded his head at Q.
"Does he always go on like this?"
"He act's like this only when he's very worried. And despite appearances, he's very worried right about now."
"Quiet Human scum," Q said indignantly. "I have the floor now." He took a dramatically faked breath and continued. "There are a few great powers that give the Collective pause in their relentless pursuit of perfection. There is the Yongi-Sinhidrea, the Ciona Imperixe, you know, those little bugs with the great ambitions for your Federation. And there is, of course the Great Machine Intelligum of the Baroni cluster. These three are terrible powers that the Borg, in their arrogance, have tried and failed to subject or destroy. Of the three Great Enemies, the Great Machine Intelligum is considered by the Borg to be the most valuable and thus most coveted. But the Intelligum has resisted the Borg for close to two hundred years with no end in sight. However the Borg did discover a weakness. "
"V'Ger."
"Exactly." Q appeared next to Spock in a flash. "Would you care to continue?"
Nodding, Spock began without preamble.
"V'Ger was a combination of an Earth probe and advanced technology from the Intelligum. In my –exuberance, I tried to join with the entity and was rebuffed. But not before I obtained a glimpse of that made Voyager six, which was considered primitive, but still a kindred spirit, into V'Ger. It had a wish and that was to evolve but it could not do so on its own. It desired to join with its creator. It needed to touch its creator, in essence to discover its purpose. Its knowledge spanned this universe and it needed to evolve. It literally joined with its creator, a representative of humanity. Captain Willard Decker, a perfect mechanical copy of a Deltan navigator named Ilia and V'Ger itself joined together to create a new life form unlike anything in this galaxy."
"And that is exactly why the Borg lusts after V'Ger, or should I say the children. The union between V'Ger and Human ape and Deltan sex fiend produced unexpected results. The Deltan aspect required a lot of attention and the human aspect, Decker who had a previous relationship with Ilia, fit the bill perfectly. The Union became a duality, which produced several offspring, humanoid in appearance, Intelligum by design, with the mindset both organic and mechanical. Only two children were viable, but their energy and intelligence were remarkable, if I must say so. Each contains the best of both worlds."
"This of course attracted the Borg in droves and fight has lasted until now. The kids hate the Borg and will instantly destroy anything that approaches them containing Borg technology. This is where Anika Chakotay will come in. Thousands of cubes were destroyed which, I may add, is just one of the reasons why they haven't come to your section of space in swarms. Kate, you and your other self hurt them more than you know."
"Count Iblis has made the Cylons aware of the children's existence," President Adama continued to the rapped audience. "He knew that he could not influence them directly but he does believe that through the Cylons he can place himself into a position to achieve his long term goals. The children are intelligent but they are still just children, and you know how they can be," he added with a long sigh, looking at his invisible son standing next to him.
"He expects that the Cylon's mechanical nature will again strike that 'kindred' connection. If that occurs, then it is a good possibility that the children will become vulnerable to the Borg. The Cylons themselves will attempt to use the children to gain access to the Intelligum. If they achieve their goals before the Borg turn on them, and everyone knows that they will, then the problems we are facing now will be nothing as compared to what will follow. In a month their power will be such that we would not be able to comprehend much less defend ourselves against them."
Q disappeared once more and appeared next to Captain Janeway.
"I gave Kate this information sometime ago in preparation for this. Iblis has not violated our law and therefore we can't touch him without beginning a war of our own. I give this information as Iblis has given the Cylons his information. What you do with it will determine your fates and that of the entire galaxy. Plan well and try to survive if you can."
In a flash, he was gone.