Chapter 2: What we need is a big frelling gun
"I find these 'Borg' to be most fascinating." They were back in the schoolroom. Harvey was pacing back and forth in front of the blackboard.
"Yeah, they're real sweethearts." John wasn't in the mood for this. With the Borg coming there was no way that Picard would allow him to continue his work. Even if he did, there wasn't enough time. He could build the machine, but it would take weeks to calibrate it and find the way back home.
"They must be stopped, John." Where had that come from? The neural clone was not exactly what John would call altruistic.
"They will be." The crew of the Enterprise always won in the end after all.
"Maybe if we hadn't come here, but we have already changed things, you know that. And if the Federation looses we will never get back." Of course, that's all it cared about, getting back to Scorpious.
"So, what do you want me to do about?" John retorted. He was angry and tired. For the past two years, nothing had gone right. He'd been stumbling from one crisis to the next.
"John, snap out of it." Harvey was suddenly right in front of him, close enough for John to smell his rancid breath. "Why do you think Scorpious was so anxious to get the wormhole technology in your head?"
"The Peacekeepers want to use it as a weapon. With it you can move fleets and armies faster than Speedy Gonzales." John sprang up and shook Harvey off. He was making John uncomfortable.
"John, you're not thinking big enough." This stopped John dead in his tracks.
"He wanted to use it as an actual weapon," John realized, "but how?"
"You're the one with a brain full of wormhole technology, you tell me."
John sat back down, his mind working furiously, digging through the wormhole technology that had been given to him. The formulas up on the blackboard started to shift with increasing speed as his mind sought the answer.
"Good John, you are almost there."
"That's it!" John jumped up from his chair and gazed at the new formula on the blackboard. Harvey sauntered up to his side, studying the formulas as well.
"Yes John, you've got it."
"That's one big frelling gun."
---
"Sir, since when do you watch Star Trek?" Carter asked O'Neill politely but with an edge of playfulness. It wasn't every day she got to needle her CO this way.
The members of SG-1 had each been given their own quarters. Daniel had not stayed long, but had left to find out if there was anything that he could, in fact, do. Right now they were all gathered in O'Neill's quarters.
"Who said I watched Star Trek?" He replied defensively, knowing that he wasn't going to win this one.
"You did, you recognized where we were and what's going on."
"So what, everyone knows Star Trek, are you telling me you've never seen an episode?"
"Sure, I've seen a few here and there but not enough to know what happens at the end of season four."
"I believe it is the end of season three, Major Carter," Teal'c politely corrected her.
"See, even Teal'c knows what season it is," O'Neill's argument earned him nothing more than a slightly raised eyebrow on Teal'c. "Look, it was on right after the Simpsons and I couldn't find the remote." They were clearly not buying it. Time for a diversion.
"Jonas, would you please stop playing with that." Jonas turned away from the replicator that he had been ordering stuff out of for the last ten minutes.
"Sorry," Jonas replied, clearly not very sorry at all, "it's just, this thing, it's amazing. I mean it can create almost anything I order."
"We've seen them a million times on TV," O'Neill replies, "besides the Asgard have them as well, right?" O'Neill looked to Carter for confirmation.
"Yes sir, but the menu on Asgard ships leaves a bit to be desired."
"Ok, let's get down to business. We know how we got here. Carter, how do we get home?"
"It's not that simple sir. The machine that Crichton was building can theoretically get us back home. But it will take weeks of calibration to find our own reality."
"Major Carter," Teal'c interrupted, "when an alternate version of you came through to our reality some time ago, she was unable to survive for more than a few days before she was forced back to her own reality. Are we not in the same danger?"
"I don't think so. If I understand Crichton's theories, we should be fine. I think what happened before was a side effect of the Quantum Mirror that we found. Maybe a design flaw or a deliberate security mechanism."
"Ok, so we are not going to vanish in a puff of smoke. Now, how do we keep from being assimilated when the Borg attack?" O'Neill asked.
"Who are these Borg anyway," Jonas interrupted. The rest of the group was momentarily speechless. "Seriously, I've never seen the show or heard of these Borg. Borg," he added, almost as if trying the word on, "sounds Swedish."
At this O'Neill grunted in exasperation, while Carter gave Jonas a faint smile and Teal'c carefully raised one eyebrow a couple of millimeters.
"You just said a line out of one of the movies." Carter told him.
"Movies? I thought this was a TV show." Jonas seemed even more confused.
"The Borg are a highly advanced species of cybernetic humanoids that share a group consciousness. Their goal is to assimilate all other races and add positive traits to their culture." Teal'c further enlightened Jonas.
"All right if we're all done filling Jonas in, can we get back to figuring out how we can keep the Borg from adding our biological distinctiveness to their own?" O'Neill brought them back to topic, "Carter."
"We could ask the crew to drop us off somewhere while they fight the Borg. But we have no way of knowing if they'll win. I mean this reality isn't exactly like the TV series, just very, very close. And if the Federation looses..."
"We're not getting home." Jonas finished Carter's sentence.
"So?" O'Neill prompted.
"So, we do whatever we can to help."
"We're going to fight the Borg?" This couldn't possibly be happening.
Carter thought it over for a moment. "Well, yes sir, it may come to that."
"Great, just great."
---
"Come," Picard barely glanced up as his first officer entered.
"Sir, Admiral Hanson is on the line," Riker informed him.
"Sit down, number one." Picard waved at one of the chairs opposite his desk. "It seems like Crichton was right."
"Yes sir," Riker agreed. Crichton had predicted that this call would come within days. It had barely been five hours.
Picard activated the console on his desk. The Starfleet emblem was quickly replaced by the image of Admiral Hanson.
"Admiral, good to see you again," Picard greeted him, "although I wish the circumstances were brighter."
"You know what this call is about?" If the situation hadn't been so grave, Picard would have smiled at the Admiral's rare confusion.
"Unless I'm very much mistaken, we've lost a Federation colony. You suspect it's the Borg."
"That's right, how did you know that, I only just got the report."
"We've got a visitor and," Picard began, "J.P., it is the Borg."
Picard quickly filled the Admiral in on the situation aboard the Enterprise.
"Jean-Luc, are you sure you can trust this Crichton?"
"He knew that Riker had been offered the Melbourne when even I didn't. He also knew that Will was going to turn the commission down, something he had not told anyone. And he knew that this call was coming and that you would bring a Lieutenant Commander Shelby with you, who is hoping for a shot at Will's job. Am I right so far?"
"Spot on, I'm afraid. Jean-Luc, if he's from the future..."
"He's not from the future, Admiral," Picard forestalled the expected argument, "we thought of that. But there is nothing to indicate that he is anything other then what he says he is."
"A man from an alternate reality where your lives are nothing more than an entertainment program," the Admiral was understandably suspicious.
"It's hard to credit, I know, but that doesn't change the situation. The Borg are coming."
"Has he given you any insights on how we should deal with them."
"According to Crichton they will move to attack Earth directly. I recommend that you start marshalling the fleet around it. Apparently, the Borg will try to assimilate me before moving on to Earth. This means we might be able to delay them a bit out here."
"All right Jean-Luc, we'll play it your way," the Admiral conceded, but Picard knew him well enough to know that he wasn't happy about it. "I still think Shelby can help you. We'll rendezvous and drop her off."
"Thank you Admiral, I'm sure she'll be a big help. I believe that what we need..."
Picard was cut off as Crichton stormed in unannounced.
"What we need, captain, is a big frelling gun," Crichton announced, somewhat dramatically as he crashed into the seat next to Riker's.
Picard motioned Riker to remain seated.
"Would you care to explain that?" Riker demanded.
"Admiral dude, Captain, number one, I've got a plan and you're gonna like it."
---
Tensions were already high the briefing room. It was also getting somewhat crowded with most of the Enterprises senior staff in attendance plus the all the visitors. Deanna had to focus her empathy carefully to keep from being overrun with all of the emotions.
She stood near the door, greeting the visitors as they entered. John gave her no more than a quick nod. His emotions were running high, not with fear, but with anticipation, an eagerness to get things done. He radiated confidence, but Deanna also felt his insecurities, buried deep down, below even his conscious awareness.
Chiana was a few steps behind him. She was worried. Deanna couldn't be sure of what. It wasn't the Borg though, she was not afraid for herself, just worried about something.
SG-1 arrived together. Deanna was not surprised. They had clearly worked closely together for quite some time. Their leader, Jack, greeted her by name although this was the first time they had met in person. She could sense that he recognized her and that he found something very amusing. He carefully kept that feeling under control.
Deanna returned the greeting and turned to the other members of the team. From the big warrior, Teal'c she sensed only calmness. If he was worried, he was keeping it under strict control. The woman in the team, Samantha, was both very excited and somewhat apprehensive while the last member of the team, Jonas, was mostly excited, somewhat confused and just a little bit afraid.
The last person to arrive was a tall, blond Lieutenant Commander that Deanna did not recognize.
"Deanna," Will was suddenly at her side, "I don't believe you've met Lieutenant Commander Shelby. She's here to help us with the Borg." There was a mixture of emotions coming from Will. She didn't know what to make of it.
"Welcome aboard the Enterprise," Deanna cheerfully greeted Shelby.
"Thank you." It was almost a brush off. Shelby seemed focused on something. Almost like she was clinging to something that was slipping away.
"I think everyone is here," Picard's slightly raised voice silenced the room immediately, "why don't we get started."
Those still standing quickly took their seats. They had had to bring in additional chairs to accommodate everyone.
"As you all know," Picard continued, "we have established that the Borg are getting ready to attack the Federation. A defense is being mounted around Earth, but we believe that the Borg will attack this ship before they move on to sector zero, zero, one." The tension in the room went up a fraction. Deanna could sense that even the captain, his cool outwards demeanor notwithstanding, was apprehensive.
"Mister La Forge, you've been working on some modifications to ship's systems?" Picard prompted his chief engineer.
"We've configured the shield's to operate on a randomly modulated frequency. That should make it harder for the Borg to adapt. We've also made similar adjustment to the phasers."
"It has also been suggested," Data cut in, "that similar modifications be made to hand held weapons if we need to fight them hand to hand."
"Very good," Picard replied, "see to it." Then turning to Shelby, "Commander Shelby, Admiral Hanson gave you high praise. Any thoughts on additional measures we could take?"
Deanna sensed a wave of discomfort from Shelby. "We've been working on several weapons against the Borg..."
"None of which will be ready this century." John interrupted.
Deanna felt a mixture of anger and frustration from Shelby as she replied, "I wouldn't say that. We are projecting..."
Again, John cut her off, "that it won't be ready until after we are all assimilated. Everyone that's happy with that plan, raise your hand."
Understandably, no one raised their hand. John's approach was not very tactful, but it drove home a point, they didn't have a plan for dealing with the Borg.
"Look, I'm sorry if I'm coming on a little strong here, but I've got a toy that can be in stores before Christmas." Deanna found John's enthusiasm infectious and couldn't help but enjoy the, she realized, totally unconscious, over the top, theatrics. And while some in the audience had a little trouble keeping up with his metaphors, that paled into insignificance when trying to understand his plan.
Certainly, it was way beyond Deanna. She prided herself in the fact that she could generally keep up with, at least in general terms, the advanced sciences and engineering issues that the crew regularly tackled. This time around, all she was able to get was that John wanted to build the world's most unconventional weapon, using wormhole technology.
She quickly stopped trying to keep up with the lecture and focused her attention back on the people in the room. That was after all her specialty.
Most seemed only marginally less confused then she was. Major Carter of SG-1 seemed to be following John's explanations, as did La Forge. While she couldn't sense his nonexistent emotions, Data looked captivated, a sure sign that he was following the discourse.
Colonel O'Neill had clearly given up trying to understand any of it and was now just bored. Nor was Picard listening to John's explanation, instead he was deep in thought. He'd heard it before.
The newly arrived Lieutenant Commander, Shelby, was struggling to keep up. Deanna felt increasing frustration from her at her inability to comprehend John's proposed weapon.
A few minutes later John wrapped his presentation up. "And if it all works, we'll have some Borgs, extra crispy."
"Does anyone have any comments?" Picard asked.
Shelby looked as if she wanted to say something but then thought better of it.
"All right," Picard continued, "what do you need to get it ready?"
"All the help I can get."
"All right, La Forge, Data, you'll assist Mister Crichton, but I want those modifications to shields and phasers completed as well. You'll set up in shuttle bay one."
"Excuse me," Major Carter interrupted, "I think I could help as well."
"Me also," Shelby added.
Picard looked to John for a response. "Sure."
"Then that's settled." Picard began wrapping up the meeting. "People, I don't need to remind you of the gravity of the situation. Our actions in the next few days may decide the fate of the entire Federation."
---
Samantha Carter found herself in an unusual situation, working on the 'big gun' project. While she was used to taking orders, she had - she now realized - become rather accustomed to the fact that she was the world's foremost expert on wormhole technology. Of course, she had, at times, been forced to work hard on problems, but this was the first time she'd had to work hard, just to keep up! Crichton's intuitive understanding of wormhole physics, even its multidimensional aspects - which still eluded Sam - was amazing.
She was however getting the hang of 'elementary wormhole physics,' as Crichton had dubbed it, and was able to contribute to the project. Apparently, the other blond working on the project was not having as much luck.
"...without any regard for standard safety regulations." Shelby finished her tirade. Sam was barely able to suppress a smile at the reversal of roles from what would have happened had none of them been there. With her role as the 'Borg expert' undercut by John, Shelby had become increasingly frustrated. Especially when it became clear that she did not, despite some technical prowess, have the aptitude to assist on the project. Sam had quickly realized that Shelby was a good leader, but there was only room for one leader on this job, and that role was taken.
For his part, Riker seemed equally amused. He had had a chance to get to know Crichton a bit before this. While he didn't exactly trust him, he trusted Picard, and Picard seemed to trust Crichton. Case closed.
"And I still say we should mount the weapon on the Enterprise," Shelby added one more objection before allowing Riker a word in edgewise.
"We've already been over that, we need to draw the Borg's attention away from it. That's exactly what the Enterprise will do."
"But still."
"Commander," Riker interrupted her sternly, "do you have a better plan for dealing with the Borg?" He stared her down until she gently shook her head. "Then I suggest you get out of Crichton's way and let him do his job."
Sam turned back to her work as the two left. These adjustments had to be precise. A moment later Crichton was at her side.
"Looks good," he told her. She realized that he had been inside his module and had heard the entire exchange between Shelby and Riker. He didn't seem bothered by it.
"It is going to work, isn't it?"
"Sure," he replied. Sam got the feeling he wanted to say more, but something kept him from doing is. A moment later, he turned back to work on the salvaged module.
---
Chiana was worried. She wasn't worried about the Borg, which she supposed she should be, but she'd never heard of them before, and she had grown up with greater threats. The threat of being 'mind cleansed' was at the top of the list. Certainly, assimilation couldn't be much worse.
No, she was worried about Crichton. It was a little unfamiliar feeling, worrying about someone else. Aside from her brother, she had rarely worried about anyone other than herself. Why should she? It wasn't as if anyone cared about her, except maybe the bastards in charge back home on Nebari, eager to mind cleanse her.
She shuddered at the thought.
However, Crichton had helped her when he hadn't had to. He had stood up for her when no one else would have. Somehow, the crew of Moya had become family over the last year. And Crichton was the reason that had been possibly. He brought them together.
And he wasn't himself now.
It was nothing obvious, Crichton behaved strangely on a daily basis, but he been increasingly abrupt, distant and cold lately.
She passed the blond Major as she entered the shuttle bay where Crichton was outfitting his module with whatever it was that he was building. Crichton was alone.
"John," she called. She rarely called him John. Crichton was better, more distance.
"Yeah," Crichton barely looked up at her.
"Can we talk," she pressed on.
"Why, did Worf manage to find a place to hide?"
If Nebari had been prone to blushing, she would have done so. Fortunately, for her Nebari did not. Her attraction to the big burly Chief of Security was more a reaction to the problems she and Dargo had been having than anything else. She had felt that they were moving way too fast, she wasn't ready for more.
So she had, in a way, acted out. Worf's demeanor had done little to discourage her. Sure, he acted all stern and disapproving, but his eyes and scent told another story. Chiana was an expert at seduction, and she knew when she was pushing all the right buttons.
Strangely, she found herself missing Dargo more and more.
"John, I'm worried about you." There she'd said it.
"I'm about to fly this thing close enough to a Borg cube to get out and ring the front door bell. I'm not exactly zero cool myself."
"That's not what I mean. Even before we came here, you were becoming," she paused a moment, looking for the right word. "Strange," was the only thing she could come with.
"Haven't you heard? I'm the freaky human. Primitive, strange, weird, take your pick."
"It's more than that. And since when do you know all this wormhole stuff. I thought you were years away from figuring it out."
This finally got his attention. She had hit a nerve. He stopped what he was doing and looked her in the eye. "I'm fine." He seemed to want to say more.
"And the wormhole stuff?"
"This is our only hope." She started to argue but he cut her off. "Look, Pip, I don't have time for this. We can talk about it when we're back on Moya."
Chiana thought about arguing further but realized that it was futile.
"Fine, have it your way," she threw her hands up and left.
---
"Red alert, Captain Picard to the bridge." Data's voice was its usual dispassionate self. He knew that if he had had feelings then he would likely have been experiencing a mixture of excitement, fueled by an adrenaline rush, and a great sense of trepidation. They had located the Borg.
The red alert warning lights came on almost before he had finished his sentence and senior staff began arriving on the bridge.
"Report," Picard snapped as he strode onto the bridge from his ready room.
"Borg cube detected, it is on an interception course." Data informed the captain, even as he moved to take his usual post at ops.
"How long?"
"Twenty minutes, thirty-three seconds."
"We need more time than that. Helm, plot a course directly away from the Borg, maximum warp."
"Aye aye, sir," the ensign at the helm acknowledged.
"Mister La Forge," Picard spoke into the intercom, "I want all the power that the engines can give us, we need to buy a little bit of time."
"On it captain," came the expected reply from Geordi.
"Data, how long until they overtake us?"
"Borg cube has accelerated to warp nine point nine eight. At present speed it will overtake us in one hour, twenty minutes..."
Picard cut him off, "and if we push the engines to maximum?"
"We may be able to match their speed for two hours. I would estimate no more than two hours thirty minutes, sir."
The turbo lift doors opened to admit Commander Riker and John Crichton.
"Captain," Crichton began, "Farscape 1 is ready. I just need thirty minutes to calibrate the wormhole."
"What do you need from us?" Picard asked.
"I've already picked the sun. But you've got to get the Borg to drop out of warp."
"They are following us; they'll drop out of warp when we do."
"Yes sir," Riker agreed, "but they'll also lock on us with their tractor beams. We need to be far away when John pulls that trigger."
"I believe we can accomplish that," Data helpfully interjected.
"Explain."
"By varying the phase frequency of our phasers when we fire at the tractor emitter we should be able to break free."
"It worked on the show," Crichton, perhaps not so helpfully, added.
"Very well, we have a plan. John," Picard turned to Crichton again, "when you are ready we will drop out of warp and launch your module. The Borg should not be interested in it. Once you are in position, we will break contact with the Borg and go to warp."
"I'll make it so," Crichton called over his shoulder as the rushed back to the turbo lift that had now opened to admit the members of SG-1.
---
O'Neill was having a difficult time deciding how he felt about the current situation. On the one hand he was standing on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC-1701-D, about to engage the Borg. How cool was that!
On the other hand, he was standing on the bridge of a fictional starship about to engage equally fictional villains. If he ever got back home, his report might earn him a section eight, if not a straightjacket.
Then there was the fact that they were about to go toe to toe with the friggin' Borg! It was enough to void the bowels of lesser people.
Fortunately, O'Neill could fall back on decades of military experience; he simply ignored the insanity and focused on what he could do to improve his chances of getting out of this alive.
"Farscape 1 signals that it is ready to launch," Worf informed the bridge crew in his rumbling baritone.
"Open shuttle bay doors," Picard ordered. "Helm, prepare to drop to impulse on my order."
"Sir, at present the Borg will be in weapons range three minutes, twelve seconds after we drop out of warp."
"Thank you mister Data," Picard acknowledged.
"Shuttle bay doors open."
"Helm, drop to impulse."
There was almost dead silence on the bridge as the streaking stars snapped to fixed positions on the front view screen.
"Farscape 1 is away."
"Helm, set course two seven zero, by zero one zero, " Riker ordered, "full impulse."
"This IS going to work, isn't it?" O'Neill couldn't help himself from quietly asking Carter. Carter knew him well enough not to answer.
"Borg vessel is dropping out of warp." Even Data seemed tense.
"Sir, the Borg are hailing you, personally," Worf informed Picard.
Picard turned to O'Neill and SG-1. "As you predicted," then to Worf, "on screen."
A familiar image of the interior of a Borg cube appeared on the front view screen.
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard. You lead the strongest ship of the Federation fleet. You speak for your people."
Picard's smile was almost feral. "You are in violation of Federation territory, leave immediately or we will destroy you!"
"Resistance is futile. We wish to improve ourselves. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service ours."
"I'll take that as a no then," Picard replied levelly.
"You must comply. Your archaic cultures are authority driven. To facilitate our introduction..." Worf cut off the Borg's litany at a gesture from Picard.
"Brave words," Riker noted quietly, "let's hope we can back them up."
"Borg vessel has locked onto us with a tractor beam," Data noted.
"Shields are being drained," Worf added, "estimate five minutes until they are breached."
"It's up to Crichton now."
---
After launching, John piloted the module on a course exactly opposite of the one the Enterprise took. Thus when the Borg cube dropped out of warp and locked on to the Enterprise, it placed itself between the starship and the module.
Looking at the immense cube shaped vessel, John was momentarily awestruck at its size. These things really were big!
John glanced at the feed from the Enterprise when the tractor beam locked onto it. Its shields would hold for a few minutes. If it wasn't in warp by then it would have bigger things to worry about then the Borg.
John engaged the 'big gun,' as he called it. Almost instantly, a wormhole opened up directly in front of the module. The device allowed him to target its event horizon so that it pointed directly away from the module, in direction of the Borg cube.
The other end of that wormhole opened up near the surface of a highly unstable star several light years away. It only took a few seconds before a massive eruption of stellar matter exploded directly into it.
"Enterprise," John half shouted, "you need to be elsewhere, right now!"
The plasma from the star was racing through the wormhole. It was only a matter of seconds before it erupted from this end and the only safe place within several million miles would be right behind the wormhole.
The Enterprise had opened fire with its phasers on the Borg's tractor emitter, but it was still being held in place.
"Come on, break free," John muttered to himself. A part of him wondered if talking to himself wasn't a sure sign that he had lost it. Another part of him rather smugly pointed out that someone with a neural clone lodged in his brain was never, technically, alone and could therefore, by definition, not talk to himself as such.
Of course having a neural clone in your brain seemed like an excellent way of being driven out of your mind, John reflected. The pun went almost unnoticed.
The Borg realized the danger to late. As the superheated plasma from the distant star spewed out of the wormhole, only a few hundred meters away from them, they desperately tried to maneuver out of its way.
It was way too late and the stellar ejecta ravaged the giant vessel. The superheated matter ripping away layer after layer of it, until nothing remained.
John shut off the wormhole and the fiery plume was cut off. The mass already ejected would travel for several minutes until it would cool down enough not to pose a threat to navigation.
There was no sign of the Borg cube. It had been utterly vaporized.
There was no sign of the Enterprise either.
---
"Enterprise, you need to be elsewhere, right now!"
"Now, mister Data," Picard ordered.
Data had been waiting, quite calmly of course, for the expected order to fire on the Borg's tractor emitter with the modified phasers. He executed the command in the same microsecond as the Captain issued the order.
The Enterprise's phasers began firing, randomly shifting its phase frequency, trying to break through the Borg's defenses.
"Helm, stand by for warp," Riker needlessly ordered.
Something was wrong. "The phasers do not appear to have any effect," Data calmly reported.
"We're running out of time," Riker stated what everyone was thinking.
"Data," Major Carter suddenly spoke up, "focus on high bands only."
Knowing that there was very little time Data did not wait for Picard to approve and immediately adjusted the phase shifts to have a lower bound, quite above the usual phaser frequencies.
Even as he did so he noticed that the wormhole was beginning to spew forth plasma on the far side of the Borg cube.
The ship shuddered as the phasers finally broke through the Borg's defenses and the tractor beam was terminated. Knowing that there was no time spare, Data engaged the warp engines at least half a second before Picard yelled, "engage!"
In the second it took the warp engines to establish a warp field to drive the ship, the plasma overtook the Borg cube and began devouring it. Luckily, the Enterprise was almost exactly in the Borg vessel's immense shadow, buying it a precious few microseconds for the warp engines to engage fully.
Even as they did, Data noted that a significant amount of plasma was caught in their wake, and was being pulled along behind the ship. Its inertia would allow it to catch up to the Enterprise in a few seconds. Since it was inside the warp field it could not be outrun.
"Brace for impact," Data warned the crew. A second later the plasma hit. This time the ship shook fiercely enough to throw Data away from his duty station at ops. Several control consoles on the bridged fizzled as the circuits overloaded and the bridge was thrown into darkness.
---
"Damage report," were the first things out of Picard's mouth once the world stopped shaking.
Before he could do much more the emergency lights came on. A quick visual inspection of the bridge told Picard that no one was dead or seriously injured. Just bumps and bruises. People were already hurrying back to their duty stations.
"You know, you people should really think about installing some seatbelts on this thing," Colonel O'Neill quipped even as he picked himself up from where he had been thrown.
"Sickbay reports no fatalities," Riker was already back at his post. "There are however several serious injuries."
"Thank you," Picard was much relieved. "Data?"
"Engines are down, both impulse and warp. The plasma caused serious damage to the left warp nacelle. It will require several weeks to repair. Other systems should be online within the hour.
"Communications?"
"Down," Worf replied, "but undamaged. We are running on emergency power only. As soon as power is available we can reestablish contact with Farscape 1. Long range sensors are, however, inoperable"
"Engineering, how long until you can get main power back?"
"Captain," La Forge's voice came over the intercom, "it should be coming online right about ... now." Sure enough, the familiar hum of full power being restored filled the bridge, and the emergency lights were replaced by regular lighting.
"Good work, mister La Forge."
"Thank you Captain, La Forge out."
"Crichton, is he alright?" Chiana demanded as she entered the bridge.
"We're about to find out," Picard replied levelly. "Mister Worf, please try to hail Farscape 1."
"We already have an incoming transmission from the module."
"Good, then he's probably fine. On screen."
"Enterprise, this is Farscape 1, do you read?" John's voice was slightly distorted and the image that appeared on the screen was mostly static.
"This is Picard. Crichton, are you all right?"
"Hey, I thought I lost you guys," came Crichton's, somewhat distorted, reply. "Yeah, I'm fine what about you?"
"No casualties. We're a little worse for wear, but nothing that cannot be fixed. I'm afraid we won't have engine power to come and get you for some time."
"No sweat, I've got a lock on you. I should reach your location in about two hours."
"That should give us just enough time to pull out the red carpet," Picard felt relieved enough to make a light jest. "Enterprise out."
---
"So, what? We don't get to fight the Borg?" O'Neill asked Carter, real casual as he walked onto the bridge. She'd been lending a hand with the repairs – was there anything that that woman couldn't do – while he'd tried to stay out of the way.
"I guess not, sir," she replied, straight faced.
People were gathering on the bridge, waiting for Farscape 1 to return.
"Shouldn't he be here by now?" O'Neill asked no one in particular.
"Yes, he should," Picard replied. "Mister Worf, try hailing him again."
Worf did some stuff, that generated some degree of bleeping, before replying, "still no response."
"The static couldn't be that bad," Riker sounded concerned.
"No it couldn't," Picard agreed. "Status of long range sensors?"
"Engineering reports that it will take at least another hour."
"We could launch a shuttle to go look for him," Riker suggested.
"Perhaps..." Picard began, but was cut off as Worf interrupted.
"Sir, Borg cube detected, distance one thousand kilometers and closing!"
"I thought we kicked their asses," O'Neill asked.
"We did," Worf replied, "this is not the same vessel as before."
"Two cubes," Carter sounded confused, a sure sign of trouble. "There was only one in the show."
"It would appear this reality is not an exact replica of your TV show, Major Carter."
"Ya think?"
"Shields up, phasers ready," Riker ordered.
"Shields at ten percent. Phasers ready," Worf confirmed, then added, "incoming hail."
"On screen."
Instead of a wide shot of the cubes interior, a close up of John Crichton's profile appeared on the screen. As he turned to face the view screen Borg implants on his right cheek were revealed. Including the red laser that O'Neill remembered Picard having on the TV show.
TV show!?! That seemed a million miles and a thousand years ago. This was undeniably real.
Crichton spoke, "I am Locutus of Borg. Resistance is futile. Your life as it has been is over. From this time forward ... you will service us.
"Have a nice day."