Chapter Twenty-Eight
We had barely retreated to a safe distance from the advancing line of Borg drones, when suddenly an explosion ripped through them, casting blood and rain in every direction as it thundered across the open ground. It was so powerful that the Golden Gate bridge swayed back and forth from the force of the blast. We ducked behind an outcropping of rock, feeling the ground shake violently beneath us.
It was several long moments before I dared put my head up again. When I did, I had to catch my breath.
A massive crater had formed. Its center was nothing but wet ash, but as the blast radius expanded, I could see thousands of charred bodies. The smoke from the blast was thick, but in the rain it quickly began to dissipate. Across the bridge, and behind where the bomb had just dropped, I could see movement.
They were still coming.
"We have to get out of here," Picard said. I looked down at Jerry's body, then back up at Picard.
"No!" I shouted over the rain. "We have to stay and fight them!"
"We can't, Mike!" he shouted back. "Starfleet is going to continue bombing them. We can't hold the bridge any other way! We have to get back to Enterprise!"
With that, he tapped his communicator, and within seconds I felt the familiar shimmer of the transporter around me. As we materialized in the transporter room, I was suddenly aware of the paralyzing cold. I was soaked, and the ambient temperature of the ship was very low. I nearly passed out as I stepped off of the transporter. Along with the others, I immediately reached up to unfasten my armor suit. A nearby ensign handed us towels to dry ourselves. I turned, and realized something was missing.
"Where's his body?!" I demanded, looking at Picard.
"It's been beamed to the cargo bay," he said quietly. I tried to respond, but was again choked up with tears. I simply nodded toward his blurry face, and reached out to lean up against the wall.
"It's not fair," I managed finally.
"No," Picard agreed. "It's not."
"Mike," Julie said, dropping the formality of titles and placing a hand in mine, "we don't have much time."
I didn't want to hear that. I didn't feel like fighting anymore. I just wanted to go somewhere and think for a while. I needed that. I deserved that. Surely…
"She's right, Mike," Picard said. "We need to get you back to the Ascension. This fight is far from over."
"This fight was over before it started," I said. I looked at the transporter chief. "Beam us directly to the bridge of the Ascension, and see to it that Commander Foster's body is beamed to…one of our cargo bays."
"Aye, sir."
Moments after I materialized, I was thrown to the floor as the bridge shook from a barrage of fire. Part of me wanted to stay on the floor – at least there I could get some rest. But I had a sudden mental picture of Jerry grabbing me by the collar and telling me to get the hell up; there would be time for my sorrows later.
So I hauled myself up from the floor.
"Report," I said weakly. Weston stood up from the captain's chair, offering it to me.
"Shields are down to eighty-seven percent," she said. "Hull integrity is holding at present, but we've been getting knocked around a good deal."
"Present course?" I asked.
"There's a fleet of ships on the night side that will be leaving the system with evacuees," she said. "At the moment, we're trying to provide them with as much cover as possible. I suggest we return fire, sir."
I looked at the screen. Ahead, I could see that we, along with two other starships, were facing a very damaged Borg cube. Off in the distance behind the cube, I could see the flashes of light that indicated another battle front.
"Yes, return fire. Attack pattern theta. Let's see what these Quasar torpedoes can do."
The Ascension dove hard to port almost immediately in compliance with my order. We barely missed being caught in a burst of energy from the cube as we came about. Instantly, the Ascension released a spread of six torpedoes, each a dancing point of violet light. As the first three hit, I realized that the last three had been unnecessary. The surface of the cube seemed to ripple in space for a moment, almost as if it were turning into liquid. The bulky frame collapsed in on itself briefly, and then was blasted into oblivion, sending a watery shockwave out in all directions. I felt the deck shudder beneath me as the wave passed us, then there was nothing.
"Damn," Tex said from the station he had just filled. The rest of the bridge seemed to share his sentiments; there was an awed silence that lasted for several seconds.
"Mr. Newman," I said at last, "how many of those do we have?"
"A hundred an' ten, Cap'n," he replied.
"Good." Signal the other two starships that we're moving into the other front. They should be able to oversee the rest of the evacuation.
"Captain," Weston said. "Is that a good idea? That cube was heavily damaged before we hit it, and there could be other cloaked cubes on the night side."
"I don't think we have a choice," I said. "Miss Brock, what is the status of the fleet?"
"They've engaged the main sphere, sir, but they're having difficulty maintaining an offensive because of the independent cubes attacking their flank," Julie said.
"Set a wide course, full impulse. Take us behind the main sphere, and prepare for a strafing run. I want to hit them with a full barrage as we come over the curvature of the surface. Then, when we reach the battle side, I want to be ready to engage the independent cubes immediately." I looked up at Weston and Spock. Both were nodding their approval.
"Weston," I said. "As of this moment, I'm giving you a field promotion. You are now my first officer." It was difficult to say it, but I forced it out.
"Thank you, sir," she replied, showing no excitement. For a second, my vision blurred again. I wiped my eyes and turned back toward the front of the bridge.
"Cap'n," Tex said, "we're comin' up on the far side."
"On screen," I said. The stationary stars were replaced with an expanse of circuitous metal that slowly curved itself into a sphere. As I looked more closely at it, I could see the gridlines that indicated the interlocking of the cubes, a sickly green light glowing barely between each one. There were so many. "What are its shields like?" I asked, afraid of the answer.
"They're not any different than a single cube's shields," Weston answered "The overall shielding has sustained heavy damage, sir." I felt a little relief at that, although a single cube's shields were bad enough. I wondered for a moment what Jerry would have thought of my idea, but immediately had to push the thought away, along with the bile that threatened to rise in my throat.
"Distance to firing range?" I asked.
"Eight hundred thousand kilometers," Julie responded. "We'll be within firing range in twelve minutes."
"Have they detected us?"
"They have," Spock said from his station at the back of the bridge. "But they are concentrating their fire on the attacking front at the moment."
"Good," I said.
"Captain," Weston said, her voice carrying a sense of urgency, "long-range scanners are picking up a mass of ships headed in our direction." I turned around and looked at her quizzically.
"Long-range?" I said. "Can you identify them?"
"Yes. It looks like an entire fleet – over eight hundred ships." Her face suddenly changed into a victorious smile, something I hadn't seen in what seemed like years. "Captain," she said, "the fleet appears to be comprised primarily of Klingon and Romulan ships. Additionally, I'm picking up all sorts of other ships – Breen, Tholian, Tellarite, Orion and…" she paused, "Jem Hadar." Her smile faded a little. A beep sounded. "Captain," she said, "one of the Klingon ships is hailing us."
"On screen."
The view changed to that of a Klingon bridge with a Klingon face in the middle of it; a face I immediately recognized.
"Chancellor Martok," I said. "It's good to see you."
"I don't believe we've met, Captain," Martok said, peering at me through his one good eye.
"Of course," I said. "I'm Captain Michael Allen of the starship Ascension.""Well, Captain, as you can see, I've been out doing a little recruiting. The allies of the Federation have officially joined the war. I hope we're not too late to die at your side."
"Not at all, Chancellor. In fact, you might have just turned the tide of the war by showing up," I said with relief. "We noticed the Jem Hadar ships you seem to have in tow."
"Ah yes," Martok said with a laugh. "That took some convincing, let me tell you! But I have some pull with a certain shapeshifter known as Odo, and after a strange discussion with a sea of goo, I was able to persuade the Founders that the Borg are a threat to them as well."
"I hope that they don't have anything up their sleeve," I said. Martok nodded.
"This will be an excellent chance for them to begin the process of regaining their honor as a species," he said. "In the mean time, I try to keep one eye focused on the front and the back," he said with a laugh, pointing at the horrid scar covering his left eye-socket.
"Good," I said. "We're about to strafe the surface of the sphere."
"Understood, Captain. I'll signal the other ships. We're right behind you."
"Thank you, Chancellor."
"Captain, this day will be sung about in many songs. I hope that you will die well."
"Qapla!" I said, ending the transmission. "How long until we're in range?"
"One minute, fifteen seconds," Julie said.
At that moment, the Borg must have detected the fleet coming in behind us. Four independent cubes suddenly decloaked, firing at us. One of them made contact, and I felt the bridge shudder beneath me.
"Quantum torpedoes, fire!" I said, not wanting to waste our complement of the new torpedoes. Ascension dutifully fired, and the torpedoes soared into the nearest cube, engulfing one side in an explosion of flame as we shot past it toward the sphere.
"Report," I said.
"Heavy damage to the cube," Weston said. "It's dead in space, but recovering rapidly. The other three cubes are pursuing."
"Are we in firing range of the sphere?" I asked.
"Aye, sir," Julie said.
"Begin firing Quasar torpedoes and phasers at the sphere. Target remaining weapons to the closest cube behind us."
"Aye, Cap'n," Tex said, his long fingers dancing gracefully across his console.
"Sir," Weston said, "the Chancellor's fleet has engaged the cubes."
"Good. Let's keep on top of it, people."
I felt a small measure of peace as the first violet streaks shot toward the sphere. In the back of my mind, I knew that there was a chance – just a chance – that Jerry had not died in vain. The torpedoes danced across the surface of the sphere, each one tearing through the formidable shields and sending cascades of ripples in all directions. For a moment, I thought this might be easier than we had all anticipated.
But as the effect wore off and none of the cubes disappeared entirely, I realized that my assumption was premature. These new torpedoes were good – good enough to chew a Borg cube into something far less dangerous. But they weren't going to win the day by themselves.
"They are adapting," Spock said, confirming what we all saw on the screen.
"Keep firing," I said. "Hold your course for the front, Mr. Newman."
"Aye, Cap'n," Tex said.
Suddenly, one of the cubes behind us caught up, and returned the barrage of fire we were sending its way. It felt like the Ascension was being thrown on her side, and I had to hang on to the armrest of my chair to keep my seat.
"Damage report!" I said.
"We've got casualties coming in from all over the ship!" Johnstone said. "Ventral shielding is down; we've got hull breaches on decks twenty through twenty-two. Emergency force fields are in place."
"Allen to Engineering," I said. "Demansky, I need those ventral shields back up."
"I'm working on it, sir," Demansky said over the comm. "But we're still pulling our pants up from the last fight."
"How long?" I asked.
"If nobody shoots at us, ten minutes."
"And if they do?"
"Well, sir, I'll try making it five."
"We'll try to hold on that long," I said. "Helm, continue firing, but give us as much evasive action as you can."
"Aye, sir," said Johnstone. Ahead, I could see that while we were still climbing our way across the curved surface of the sphere, we were weaving back and forth. This not only had the effect of keeping us from being hit by the Borg weapons, but it had the added advantage of turning their own attack against them; every time the cube would miss us, it would hit the sphere. This was good.
"Commander," I said to Weston, "how long will it take us to reach the other side?"
"Two minutes, sir," she replied.
I looked down at the sphere's surface below us as the bridge shook from a grazing hit. We were doing a lot of damage; there was a long, jagged scar running across it with our name on it. Still, it didn't seem to be enough.
Suddenly, the greenish light peeping through the cracks between the spheres grew brighter. For a split second I thought the sphere was exploding, and my heart raced. Then I glanced at the bigger picture and realized this was not the case. The sphere was expanding, each cube beginning to break apart from the other.
We watched in horror for several seconds. Although the distance between each cube began to widen, they were all still connected by crackling tendrils of energy that lanced from ship to ship. Eventually, each cube grew so distant from the other that we were able to get a clear look at the interior space of the sphere.
It seemed that every arc of energy that held the cubes in their place came from the center. There we could see a white-hot blaze of light, looking almost like a sun.
"What the hell is that?" I asked breathlessly. A moment passed.
"It is Omega," Spock said.
