Chapter Twenty-One

The Titan offered a noticeably smoother ride than Admiral Shailin's ship had, and I was grateful for it. Although it was nowhere near the size of the Dreadnought-class ship I had seen before, it certainly looked as if it might give the Ascension a run for its money. I found it easy to lose myself in the narrow hallways as I left my quarters.

It was actually somewhat disappointing that I couldn't take more time to enjoy everything around me. After all, I was on a starship with several of my heroes and, just as it had been on the Enterprise, I found that I had neither the time nor the heart to celebrate. I hadn't even had a chance to sit down and just get to know them under any normal sort of circumstance.

Granted, I felt like at the moment I knew Picard better than I ever had over the years that I had seen him on television. And admittedly, a big part of that was because I had actually faced danger with him; had actually fought beside him. Still, there was a feeling that something was missing. It made me wonder how long it took them to actually get to know one another very well during the time that they had served together. I knew, of course, that not all of their time on the Enterprise had been spent saving the universe. Nonetheless, it gave me pause for thought. I made a promise to myself as I got into the turbolift that, should we all survive this war, I would make it a priority to get to know my crew as well as these people seemed to know each other.

The turbolift took me to the bridge, where hasty repairs were being made on several of the stations. Captain Riker was overseeing most of this, moving from one damaged panel to another and inspecting the work with the eye of a trained professional. Picard sat in the First Officer's chair (which he had graciously accepted for the duration of our stay on Titan), and to the right of the captain's chair sat Deanna Troi, looking beautifully regal as she always had. She stood when she saw me, proffering her seat. I felt a blush creep up my collar.

"As you were," I said, feeling completely ridiculous. She obviously sensed the awkwardness, and she sat back down with a smile.

"Thank you, Captain."

"Ah, Captain Allen," Riker said, turning to me. "I'm glad you're here. We'll be rendezvousing with the Ascension and the Enterprise in three hours. I think that it's about time we contacted Starfleet with your concerns." He left the station he was at and headed for his Ready Room. Picard, Troi and I followed him. Once inside, we all sat down at a table.

"Who exactly are we going to talk to about this?" I asked. Picard spoke up.

"We will begin with Admiral Necheyev," he said. "I believe that she will have the most sway with the Federation Council."

"I assume you both have your reports prepared," Riker said. We both nodded. "Good. Let's get this over with. Computer, open a secure transmission to Admiral Necheyev, Priority One."

"Channel open," the computer chimed. Admiral Necheyev, who looked a little worse for the wear these days, came on the screen.

"Captain Riker," she said. "It's good to see you. I've already received your report on Romulus, and I'm very sorry, but I'm afraid we just can't spare you at the moment."

"Understood, Admiral. We're already back in Federation space. I've contacted you for a different reason." He backed the screen up to display the rest of us at the table.

"Captain Picard!" Necheyev blurted, clearly pleased. "I was told that you had been lost in the battle of Vulcan."

"Not quite, Admiral. Good to see you again."

"Tell me, Jean-Luc, where have you been for past several days?" I wanted to yell I'm here too, Admiral! But I kept silent as Picard began to explain what had happened over the past few days. The lines in Admiral Necheyev's face deepened as he explained everything that we had seen. She seemed particularly interested in the part about Valeris, and Spock's previous involvement with her. At the end, the admiral heaved a long sigh.

"Well, captains, this is not a good situation at all. If Admiral Heaton is in on the plot with the Bek'Tal – and it sounds like he is – then we've got a very big and powerful starship to worry about, in addition to the Borg situation. As if we didn't have enough with them!"

"Admiral, what exactly is the current situation with the Borg?" Riker asked. Necheyev paused for a moment, as if gathering the strength to give the bad news.

"It's much worse than even our worst projections, gentlemen. Long-range scanners have picked up the signatures of over four thousand separate cubes. And those are just the ones that we've been able to detect thus far." There was a deathly silence, during which she allowed us to process what she had just said. Then she continued.

"From what we can tell, these ships have begun linking themselves together. We're not entirely certain how they're doing it, but they seem to be forming a kind of giant sphere in space."

"A sphere?" I asked, finally piping up. "Why would they do that?"

"We don't know," Necheyev said. "Perhaps it has something to do with this Omega particle plot you've been describing. All we know is that even if all they have are the ships we've counted thus far, the result of this interlocking will be a planet-sized ship of almost unimaginable firepower. We've been working around the clock trying to come up with something that might give us a chance against it, but so far the situation has only gotten worse. At this point, they've begun discussing evacuation procedures."

"You're going to evacuate the entire planet?" I said. Necheyev's face darkened.

"No. We will only be able to take a handful of people with us. Even then, we have nowhere to go where they can't find us."

Again there was silence. I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach in a slow, nauseating moment. I wanted to vomit, cry, and run away from the room all at the same time. These were followed by a surge of frustrated rage, which I had to fight to keep from showing in my face. I hated the Borg now. I had feared them before, and I still did. But as Necheyev's words repeated themselves in a haunting inner monologue, I found a loathing for the Borg that I had never before known. I clenched my fists until sweat nearly poured from them.

"Admiral," Riker said, "if all of these Borg ships are interlocking to form one, wouldn't it be possible to use that against them?"

"We've been working on that," she said tiredly. "So far none of our simulations has shown much promise. The Borg defenses are too strong. Even our entire fleet would barely put a dent in it," she said. Picard folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward.

"What you're describing, however, is an external attack only. What if we could get something or someone inside the sphere?"

"We've thought of that too, Jean-Luc. First there would be the task of getting inside - no small feat in and of itself - and then we would still face the daunting chore of trying to destroy it. I think that you are looking at this as one massive ship with some sort of giant power core you can destroy. Our scans indicate it's not like that at all. This is a network of ships, each operating on its own power. And let us bear in mind that even if we destroy a thousand ships, we still have only taken out half of their fleet. I think that it is time for us to come to terms with the fact that this situation is hopeless. We will fight for our planet, to be sure. But we will lose."

There was a very sad moment in which she looked at all three of us. Decades of duty were clearly the only thing holding back the tears in her eyes, which glistened very slightly on the monitor.

"I hope that when the time comes for us to sacrifice ourselves, we will bear ourselves with the same sense of honor which we always have. Necheyev out."

The screen went blank. No one moved for several long moments. Then Picard drew in a large breath, which I anticipated was going to turn into a sigh. Surprisingly, however, he stood from the table and exhaled the breath into a short - but stirring - sentence.

"Let's find a way to beat these bastards."