Chapter Three

We are the Borg. You will be assimilated; we will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile; we are the Borg.

Terror. The voice of the Borg: not so much an audible sound as something in the back of the mind. They were coming. I had to run, or they would get me. Turn me into something abominable. But I couldn't move. I looked down at my feet. Nothing wrong with them…why couldn't I make them do anything? I tried to look back up, but my head was so heavy. Run, Mike! My eyes strained at the top of my vision to see how much closer they were. Not far at all now; a few feet at most. The drone coming toward me was blurry, but seemed to be scowling, almost as though its own will was involved…Run, Mike! Don't let them touch you! Slowly, oh so slowly, my body began to turn away from the approaching drones. With a tremendous effort, I was able to lift my left foot just a little off of the floor.

But it was too late. I felt a metal-clad hand grasp my shoulder, hard. In slow motion, I was violently spun around on the axis of my right foot. My left foot crashed against the rock-solid frame of the drone as it came around, throwing me off balance. As I began to fall to the floor, I felt two sharp pains in the nape of my neck. With a terror I had never felt before, I realized I was being assimilated. This is it, my brain realized. The pain was such that I could not even conjure a scream. I lifted my head a little with the last ounce of strength I had, and looked into the assimilated face of…


"Julie!" I screamed, sitting up in bed. I was covered in sweat, yet goose bumps covered my flesh as reality dawned blessedly upon me. This was the fourth time in a week, and I was again sorry not to still be sharing a room with Jerry. I looked at the chronometer on the wall. I had a good hour before I even had to be up, but I wasn't about to go back to sleep. I threw off the covers and made my way to the head.

Hot water poured over my body. It was refreshing and comforting at the same time; I tried to remove the thought of what had just happened, and the warm water helped. Mentally I noted that I had better enjoy a real shower while one was at my disposal. Soon I would be subjected to sonic showers, which I had been told were adequate but just not the same. Thinking about that future brought back the horrific imagery of my dream, and I winced. They're coming, Mike. You'd better be ready…

For fourteen days straight, we had studied. Starfleet's goal was to take the knowledge we already had, and hone it to something at least resembling perfection. And interestingly enough, it seemed to be working. Everyone on my crew was working like crazy to be the best Starfleet officers they could be when the time came around. I was genuinely proud of them, and was looking forward to working with them in a real command situation.

Although I would never admit it to anyone else, I was especially looking forward to serving with Julie…Lieutenant Brock. I had noted with disappointment that Starfleet protocol discouraged relationships between a captain and a subordinate. Though such a thing was certainly not unheard of, I feared that she would shy away from any advances I might make. Then again, though, that could be for the better…

There was no ceremony at the end of our two weeks. Our last day of classes, we were turned out early to pack. As I was leaving the classroom, Admiral Janeway placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Mike, I'd appreciate it if you would stay for a few minutes." I nodded and walked back over to my desk. Over the last two weeks, I had come to see Janeway as a real person, rather than just a fictional character. I had even had the pleasure of dining with her one evening. I found myself respecting her immensely, and I attempted to soak up her wisdom as often as I could in hopes of being the best captain possible.

"Thanks for staying," she said as the last person filed out the door.

"No problem, ma'am," I replied. She smiled warmly.

"It's Kathryn. I wanted to congratulate you, Mike, both for making captain and for surviving these past two weeks."

"Thanks, ma'am…uh, Kathryn," I said. She sat down in the desk next to me and leaned on an elbow.

"Having said that, I also wanted to warn you. You're attached to your crew already; I can see it. Don't get me wrong, now, because it's important to establish a rapport with them. It's essential, in fact. But you're going to be serving with your best friend. And don't think I haven't noticed how you look at Lieutenant Brock." My eyes widened, and she laughed.

"I didn't know it was that obvious," I said.

"Well, it is. And I'm aware that it's perfectly natural. She's a lovely girl, Mike. But I'm telling you, the odds of either of you surviving this ordeal are not great. I know I've probably said this a thousand times these past two weeks, but you must be willing to kill her or any of your crew to save them from assimilation or, worse, from being used as a tool of the enemy. Are you ready for that?" I was silent for a moment. I felt weak at the thought. My mind returned to the recurring nightmare, and the horror that surrounded it. I looked into the deep pools of Admiral Janeway's eyes.

"I don't know, Kathryn," I said, shaking my head.

"I would suggest that you find out very soon, Mike." She squeezed my shoulder. "I'm here for you."

"Thank you," I said genuinely. There was a sadness behind her smile, one which I seriously hoped I would never share.


"You wanted to see me, Admiral?" Admiral Heaton's office was spacious, and was richly decorated in what looked to be a mixture of Greco-Roman and traditional Klingon styles. Admiral Heaton himself seemed as though he might be made of warrior mettle; he was quite tall and muscular, and had a sort of noble presence about him. He gestured for me to sit down across from him at his desk.

"Mr. Allen, congratulations first of all." He reached into his desk. "Cigar?" he asked, holding one out to me. I hesitated. "Don't worry, Captain. We cured cancer a long time ago." I smiled and took it.

"Mike, I called you in here to let you know that you've been accorded a special honor. As a future captain, you're aware that you'll be spending the next seven days under the wing of an experienced captain. What you haven't been aware of, however, is that you will be serving under Jean-Luc Picard."

"The Enterprise, sir?" I practically shouted. Admiral Heaton nodded.

"That's correct. You're going to be the envy of all your peers."

"Sir, this is incredible!" I said in understatement.

"Yes, I would imagine so. And what should be even more exciting is the reason you're being assigned to her. Your commission as captain will be a Sovereign-class vessel." My jaw dropped, literally. I tried to speak, but nothing would come out. The admiral pretended to take no notice.

"The U.S.S. Ascension is her name, registration NCC 82661. You'll find that she closely matches the Enterprise in most ways, since they've both just been refitted recently. I would suggest that you get to know your way around her over this next week."

"Aye, sir," I said, puffing happily and thoughtfully on my cigar. This was too much…

"I should warn you about something before you go," he said. "Captain Picard has only recently been made aware of this project, and…" he trailed off.

"And?" I asked. The admiral adopted an irritated look.

"Well, he's not exactly happy about it."


We sat in the lounge at an elegant, stately table. We had all been given dress uniforms to wear, and had donned them with pride. Around the room several hundred other people from my universe sat, chatting idly as we waited for the dinner to commence. We had been told that there were ten such rooms in use tonight; Starfleet was holding a very large banquet for us.

The doors of the lounge suddenly swooshed open, and Admiral Jellico walked in. Everyone began standing, and I quickly did so myself. The admiral extended a hand toward the room in general.

"As you were. Please, sit down." Slowly, everyone sat back down. He stood at the front of the room and looked at all of us, smiling.

"Congratulations, Starfleet Officers! You have done well over the past two weeks, and now the time has come to begin your missions. The captains among you will be leaving in the morning to serve aboard some of our presently engaged starships. The rest of you will be boarding the ship you will be stationed on, and will spend the next week getting familiar with everything. You will be mingling with other Starfleet officers, as to create the best possible mix of knowledge and experience. And you will be gearing up for war. The Borg are advancing in greater and greater numbers. Already we have detected nearly thirty cubes advancing on the Federation. It is our sincere hope that with you all, as well as a few other tricks Starfleet has up its sleeve, we will be able to defeat the Borg. And this time, our plan is not to simply drive them back to the Delta Quadrant." His look became menacing. "This time, we intend to destroy the Borg, once and for all."

The room erupted into applause. There were even a few cheers to be heard, despite the austere atmosphere. This seemed to be the desired response, as Admiral Jellico simply smiled.

"Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your dinner, and the rest of your evening. You've all got a very busy day tomorrow." He turned and left amid the laughter rippling across the tables. As the food was brought out, I looked at the people around me who were to be my crewmates. They were chatting happily with each other. Jerry and Tex were having a discussion about the changing shape of the warp field. Walker and Perez seemed to be flirting, giggling idly about some joke he had told. Carrie Johnstone seemed intent on her napkin, which she was neatly folding into some origami animal shape. Julie, who sat next to me (could that have been what made it so obvious?), seemed lost in thought.

"Think it'll work?" I asked. She seemed to snap out of a daze, and looked at me.

"What?"

"Oh, whatever you're plotting. You seemed pretty lost in thought." She grinned sheepishly.

"I was just thinking about everyone back home. I don't guess they'll ever know what happened to me…" she trailed off.

"I would imagine that we'll be returned to the exact time that we left. Unless the war goes on for several years, we won't look that much different. It ought to be pretty simple." Tears welled up in her eyes, and she swallowed hard to get rid of them.I said nothing, but turned to the food in front of me.


We walked along the San Francisco Bay, as had become our custom over the last two weeks. As much as I hated the thought of bringing it up again, I wanted to atone for my earlier actions.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Julie," I said. "I guess it's just that I like to think positively about this."

"Come on, Mike," she sighed. "You know what the odds of us surviving out there are?" I was silent. "Let's be realistic. Starfleet needed bodies to stand between the Borg and the Federation. That's us. We're there to be cannon fodder. The truth is that there is almost no hope, and a ragtag group of Trekkies from a technologically inferior universe isn't going to raise the Federation's odds very much at all."

I stared down at the sand as we walked on. "I understand how you feel," I said.

"Do you?" I looked into her eyes. They were full of tears again. Should I tell her? I stopped, turned, and placed my hands on her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. Julie, over the last week and a half, I've had the same recurring dream. I'm on a ship, the ship we're serving on, and the Borg are coming down the corridor. I know I have to run away from them, but I can't move. It's like I'm suddenly too heavy to do anything. And just as I turn to try to run away, a hand grabs me. It spins me around, and the Borg drone shoots its tendrils into my neck. I can feel myself being assimilated from the inside out. But the most horrifying thing is that when I look the drone in the face, it's you." As the implications of this statement dawned on her, she burst into tears, burying her face in my chest. I too felt tears welling up; I stroked her hair and just held her for a bit.

Eventually, she pulled away, still sniffling a little. "I'm sorry, Mike," she said. "I know you must be going through hell with this too." She stared up at the moon; the lights of New Berlin were clearly visible in the night sky. "We don't belong here, Mike." She turned to me. "Why are we here?"

"Because it doesn't matter whether it's this universe or ours, Julie. The Borg are going to come." I smiled a little. "It's like Tex said: at least here we stand a fighting chance." Julie laughed through her tears.

"As I recall, that wasn't exactly how Tex put it." Boldly, I reached a finger up and brushed at a tear. She didn't pull away. I leaned in a little closer, and was surprised at how much taller I was than her. Fortunately, she seemed to read my mind, and raised herself up a little on her toes. Our lips met, briefly at first, then lingered in a deep kiss. When we broke away, she hugged me close to her.

"Thanks, Mike," she said. She let go, and we started to walk again, this time hand in hand. "You know, maybe I should start thinking more positively."

"That's the spirit."

We kissed goodbye that night, and I headed to my quarters smiling. It would be a very long week, even getting to serve under Captain Picard, but I was ready for it.


My first shuttle ride was a bit of a letdown. I had expected it to be far more exciting than any plane ride had ever been. But in fact, I barely felt the craft move as we took off from Starfleet Headquarters. It had occurred to me that I was about to go into space for the first time in my life, and I was very excited. The officers around me didn't seem to understand my fidgeting, but they were polite or uninterested enough not to ask.

We left the atmosphere, and I was exposed to the naked beauty of space. One cannot truly appreciate how large space is until one has actually seen it. And Earth! My home planet shone like a polished blue marble. I felt my heart leap into my throat with sudden pride. But the shuttle turned away from Earth, and it was lost to my sight.

And suddenly there it was. I caught my breath as we approached the massive hulk that was the Enterprise. It hung there in space, its dark gleaming hull looming over our heads as we drew closer on the fore.

"You OK?" one of the officers asked me.

"I'm better than OK," I mumbled in shock. Then suddenly, unable to control myself, I laughed. "I'm much better than OK."

We flew for what seemed like long minutes across the great starship's hull, then circled around to enter the docking bay doors in the aft section. Slowly, we came to a stop, and disembarked. As I stepped onto the floor, I immediately noticed something didn't feel right.

"Artificial Gravity plating," said one of the officers. "You can't really notice it in the shuttle, but you can always tell on a starship. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." I hoped so. At the far end of the docking bay, a greeting party was approaching. At the head was Captain Jean-Luc Picard. I fought my impulse to run up to him and shake his hand. As he drew closer, I was glad I hadn't.

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise, Mr. Allen," he said with false warmth. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your quarters." I grabbed my bag and followed. The admiral hadn't been joking, I decided. This was going to be a long week.