STAR TREK/THE REIGN: HIVE MIND

Fan fiction Crossover by Lance Berry

CHAPTER 6: INTO THE FIRE

Riker, Worf and Troi had stopped by the Horizon's armory to supply themselves with Zuk-Lar .40 blasters and personalized hand-held scanners before heading to the launch bay on deck 23, where they were greeted by Miles O'Brien, who usually served as transporter chief aboard the Enterprise.

"Running the launch bay now, Chief?" Riker asked. O'Brien gestured to one of the dozen boxy-looking troop transports, yet found himself rushing to keep pace with the commander's long strides as the group headed toward it.

"Doing whatever I can just to fit in, sir," O'Brien commented, then said, "Commander, whatever the Borg are doing over there, they're rerouting a lot of power from some of their central systems to do it. That additional power has caused a minor disruption in the cube's electromagnetic field, making it easily vulnerable to penetration, which is probably why the Enterprise is playing nanny to it. I've programmed coordinates into the onboard computer of this transport," the chief said as he pointed to the craft, the doors of which opened automatically as they approached. "There's one specific area near the disturbance where if you blast it open, you should be able to land safely inside the cube and make your way to your target with relatively little resistance."

"Little resistance?" Riker said skeptically. He halted at the ship's entrance, O'Brien and the others halting as well. "As near as I can tell, Commander," O'Brien responded, "once you blow a hole in that ship, you should be taking out quite a few Borg as well."

"Acknowledged, Chief," Riker said with a thoughtful nod of understanding. He glanced at Deanna, whose breathing had become noticeably heavier. "You okay?"

Deanna took a deep breath and exhaled. She nodded, trying to feign some confidence, but failed miserably. "I've never been aboard a Borg ship. From everything I've heard, it's not someplace one wants to go."

Riker shook his head slowly and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Deanna stopped shaking instantly and he told her, "It's not. But we have to find a way to knock out their controls, and unfortunately, this is probably the best and only way to do it. Just stick close to me and Worf, and keep your weapon ready at all times."

"O-okay."

"Counselor," Worf said and she brought her attention to him. "I will die myself, before allowing you to fall into the hands of the Borg."

To her own surprise, Troi smiled. "I know, Worf. Thank you."

Riker removed his hand from Troi's shoulder and took a light, surreptitious breath himself as he faced O'Brien. "Hopefully we'll see you again soon, Chief. Thank you."

"Good luck, sir," O'Brien said grimly, then headed off to the flight commander's booth as Riker led his people inside the transport.

Once inside, Will sat in the pilot's chair with Worf as co-pilot to his right. Deanna glanced around at all the handguns and Vaughn-Koch VK-12 Blastrifles all tucked snugly into a gun rack against one wall. "Look at this, we didn't even need to stop at the armory. "

Riker glanced back at her and the wall she was indicating for a split second, then went back to making a pre-flight check to assure himself that he was familiar enough with these systems. Deanna sat down in one of the rows of passenger seats, but her eyes were drawn to the armament once more. "I'm glad we're not facing off against these people. They really come prepared for a fight."

"Don't allow yourself to be distracted," Worf said sternly, not looking at her as he continued with his half of the pre-flight check. "Soon enough, you will have all the combat you could ever desire."

Riker shot Worf a stern look to remind the Klingon that perhaps talking about fighting the Borg wasn't the best way to keep the counselor calm. Worf said nothing as he caught the glare, but went back to his pre-flight check.

"Well I for one wish this ship had transporters," Riker said. "Blasting into the cube like this…not the most subtle move we could make." He realized abruptly that his statement was no more sensitive than Worf's had been, so he closed his mouth and finished the check just as the launch bay doors began to open. The transport shook abruptly, and the three officers shared a concerned look as they realized it was because the Horizon had just been struck, more than likely by a blast from the Enterprise. Riker tabbed a panel, and the transport doors closed with an assertive pneumatic –whumpf!-

"Let's get ready for liftoff," Will said urgently as he began powering up the transport.

"Shields holding at ninety-two percent," Wesley announced as the Horizon recovered from the enhanced Borg laser the Enterprise had just blasted them with.

"Target them with aft energy rammers, Mr. Data," Picard said reluctantly. He had no wish to damage his own ship, but there was simply no choice. Referring to the Enterprise and its Collective-controlled crew as "them" however, helped give Picard an emotional distance from the situation, albeit only a slight one. "Fire!"

Larger, more coherent energy bolts shot out of five large energy cannons placed at various points toward the Horizon's rear. The bolts impacted with the Enterprise's modified Borg shields, the majority of which did no damage. The last blast, however, managed to penetrate and blew a fair portion of energy conduits free from the Federation flagship.

"Moderate damage to the Enterprise," the tactical officer who had replaced Worf at the console reported. "Their shields are down to eighty-seven percent, but are quickly regenerating." The young black officer turned partway in his chair to face Picard. "I don't think the energy rammers will have the same effect next shot, sir."

"Duly noted, Lieutenant," Picard replied, but then his brow furrowed as a thought came to him. He stood and quickly strode over to the helm. "Data…do you think you can manage to steer the ship clear of the next blast? Dodge it?"

It took Data only a nano-second to consider the question, calculate the probabilities and respond, "I believe so, sir."

"Then as we come around on the Borg cube. Do you understand?"

Data nodded. "I do."

Picard tabbed his comm-badge without thinking about it as he turned and headed back to the command chair. "Picard to Riker."

"Riker here."

"Slight change of plan, Number One. The Enterprise is going to blast a hole through the Borg cube for us. Are you ready to launch? You're going to need to act on a split-second's notice."

"We're ready, sir!"

"Standby."

"Enterprise is powering up…" the tactical officer said.

"Data…"

"On it, sir."

The Enterprise attempted to close the distance on the Horizon as it fired another green enhanced Borg phaser. With dexterity and reflexes that would have made the legendary god of speed, Mercury, green with envy, Data tabbed in commands to the Horizon's helm console and the mighty Heavy Cruiser lolled to its port side with a speed belying its massive, mile-and-a-half long bulk. As the bolt flashed past, the Heavy Cruiser's launch bay doors opened and the transport carrying Riker and his away team dove out just in time for all aboard to witness the beam crash into the Borg cube and accidentally blast a gaping entry hole into it.

Riker aimed the transport straight for the hole and pushed the vessel to its top sublight speed, just below the threshold of the speed of light. "The hole's already beginning to seal!" Worf said in astonishment. "I can see that," Riker snapped. "Just hold on!"

The transport shot inside the hole, shattered and rent Borg bodies bouncing ineffectually off its hull as the vacuum of space pulled them into its cold embrace. As darkness enveloped the transport momentarily, Riker's eyes darted between the transport's forward viewport and his board's sensor readings, which prodded him to move forward while warning him not to alter course in the slightest. Finally, the eerie greenish half-light within the Borg cube became more enhanced, and several large gantries were visible. With the sensors guiding him, Riker managed to safely touch the transport down on one that was just wide enough to accommodate the vessel, although the whine of straining metal which emanated from the gantry did nothing to comfort him.

"The hole has sealed fully behind us," Worf informed them both as his co-pilot's board gave off an announcing beep. "On the positive, the atmosphere outside has already stabilized. We won't need environmental suits."

"Good, they'll only slow us down," Riker said as he checked his own Zuk-Lar. The weapon had no stun setting, as it was designed to fire concentrated pellets of antimatter. What kind of world is it these people live in, where they can't even spare their enemies' lives? Will thought, but then shrugged and set it aside as he focused on the task at hand. "Let's get to the nerve center where the disturbance is, and find out what all the ruckus is about."

In her alcove at the heart of the cube, the Borg Queen watched her four-sided holographic display with a detached indifference as William T. Riker, Worf and Counselor Deanna Troi quickly disembarked from the troop transport. Troi used the personalized scanner she carried, then pointed dead ahead—in the direction of the alcove. As the trio moved forward, the Queen kept an eye on them within her mind as she turned back to her greatest prize. She stood in front of the modified experiment table where Travis Rand was strapped down and placed inside a highly durable crystalline structure.

"More friends have come to play, Travis," the Queen said as she caressed the crystal's smooth surface. From within the protective covering, Rand shifted his eyes toward her and attempted to articulate words, though his mouth was stuffed with bio-mechanical tubes and nodes plugged deep into his throat and reaching around to the inside of the back of his head, tapping into his cerebral cortex. "What's that--? You wish to speak? Very well…I'll allow it," she said with a devious smile as the tubes temporarily disconnected from his nerve centers and harshly retracted from his mouth. The Horizon's captain gasped and coughed as non-processed air entered his lungs for the first time in hours. He spat up some more nano-bile, and was barely able to turn his head to the side enough to let it flow out of his mouth and down his neck and shoulders to keep from choking on it. Finally he turned his head back to face her, his eyes burning with a hatred he had never felt for any living being before in his entire life. "I…get out…of…here…going to…kill you…"

The Borg Queen tilted her head quizzically and regarded him silently a moment. "I believe you would try," she said, and there was almost a type of admiration in her voice. "However, I am not about to let that happen. You are the greatest treasure and mystery I have ever encountered, Travis. I dissected you, reconstructed and dissected you again fifteen times. I have injected your body repeatedly with a combined total of one hundred thousand, five hundred and seventy-four nano-probes. Yet your magnificent body has rejected every last one of them. But it is only a matter of time before your strange cells give up their fight and you become one of my children. But you will not be an ordinary drone. Your secrets—your knowledge of this 'Q', whom I have never heard of in spite of all the millions of races I have assimilated, will give me virtually unlimited abilities. And once I have assimilated this power, that shall be the key to entering your universe and assimilating every life form there as well."

In spite of the agony his body had undergone, Travis couldn't help but laugh. "You think…you can…'similate something like…Q? You're an…idiot, lady…"

The Queen stood erect once more. "No, Travis. You see, every type of energy in the universe leaves some manner of residual, quantifiable signature behind, which is capable of being analyzed. Even the Q cannot simply expend energy and have it not leave some type of trace behind. It's just that your limited human senses and sensors can't detect it. But it is a simple law of physics: matter and energy cannot simply be created or destroyed. They convert. Therefore, it will only take time and patience to uncover the mystery of the Q. Once I have assimilated their power, it will give me the ability to more easily assimilate other life forms in a…less messy…manner than physical confrontation. You will see. You will come on the voyage of discovery with me."

The Queen turned her head ever so slightly to her left. "Come in, Commander Riker. Lieutenant Worf. Counselor Troi. I know your exact positions, hiding behind the beams and conduits eighteen meters to my left. Every inch of this ship is a part of me. You may as well attempt to hold my hand and hope I don't feel it. Welcome."

With that, Riker and his two officers stepped out from three of the supporting beams, located exactly where the Queen had said they would be. Riker led them forward cautiously, their Zuk-Lars aimed squarely at her. "You know who we are," Riker said as he looked her over in fascination. "But who are you?" There was something about her striking appearance, something darkly seductive. He felt dirty just thinking about her in that manner, but he almost couldn't help himself.

"I am the Borg," the Queen said and spread her arms wide. "Welcome home." And as soon as she finished saying it, no less than eighteen Borg drones teleported into existence, blocking the exit out of the alcove, and surrounding Riker and his team. Worf spun around, preparing to fire at the closest drone, but Riker placed a steadying hand on his arm, staying his blast.

"Don't fire!" The commander ordered them both. "She's not going to assimilate us yet. She knows we're curious about what's going on here."

"Indeed," the Queen said and glanced at her holographic display, which was showing Riker and his team in their current predicament, surrounded by drones. The image changed to that of the Horizon, beset upon by the Borgified Enterprise. The UEF ship had taken heavy damage and its shields were flashing desperately as blast upon blast from the former Federation flagship assailed it. Most blasts were deflected, but some found their way through the shields, blasting chunks of hull plating from its side.

"As you can see, the Horizon shall soon be lost. I have neutralized almost all defense grids within your solar system: Mars and Luna cannot send any more forces against me. Earth is attempting to marshal whatever paltry forces it has, but so many of your starships are so very far away, some on the other side of the galaxy," she said, a mocking pity within her voice. "That's the problem when one wanders so far away from home: You can't get back fast enough if there's trouble."

As the Queen spoke, Troi moved closer to Riker, and reached out to hold his hand. The commander almost started to pull away, as this wasn't the time for trying to comfort anyone

when they had to find a way out of this threat. But a tingle shot up Riker's spine as he heard a single word spoken within his head: Imzadi.

It was Deanna's voice, spoken to him telepathically, in the manner in which she used to be able to communicate with him years ago when he was stationed on her home world Betazed and they had fallen in love. It had been three long years since she had addressed him in that way, when they were first reunited aboard the Enterprise. The connection was apparently still there—truly, a connection between two former lovers such as they could never be broken—but there was a desperate urgency in the counselor's voice, and Riker suddenly knew that she wasn't reaching out to him for comfort.

She's not as confident as she sounds, Deanna whispered inside his head. She's hiding something…fear! According to the counselor's tone, it was as much a revelation to Deanna as it was to him. That man inside the crystal…it's not David Christenson, but she is deathly afraid of him being set free! He's the key to everything!

"…and so, before I assimilate you, I understand there must be some final questions you have," the Borg Queen was saying. "Since you will neither have nor desire independence much longer, I will allow you these final moments of free will. Ask your questions, Commander Riker."

Riker nodded slowly, more in understanding of Troi's message than anything the Queen had said, as he released his hand from Deanna's. "Actually, I didn't come here to talk," he said, then brought his Zuk-Lar .40 up and sent several pellets of antimatter right at her!

The Borg Queen took a reflexive step back and threw her hand up, barely in time. A force shield appeared and took the brunt of the impact, but it crackled fiercely and weakened under the assault. This was antimatter alright, but its universal micro-pulsations—0.2 percent difference, as Data had stated earlier—were just different enough that the Queen couldn't adapt to it fast enough. She staggered back another step, and glared at Riker.

The Borg drones moved forward. Worf and Troi spun around and began firing, taking out one after another while Riker rushed forward. The Borg Queen took another step back and threw up another force screen around herself…leaving Travis Rand's crystalline prison wide open. Riker stood before it and pointed the Zuk-Lar toward the mid-section of the crystal coffin…

"NO!" The Queen screamed, but before she could erect a screen around the cocoon, Riker fired—taking no chances, he sent off seven shots at the crystal, which exploded in a spray of deadly shards, which the first officer just managed to dodge as he dove out of the way and fell behind a large conduit.

Popping and snapping sounds. One after the other. Crystalline dust was in the air, covering the experiment table upon which Travis Rand rested. But through the dust, Riker could see bio-mechanical tubes popping or snapping free into the air, one after the other. Black liquid sprayed geyser-like from some of them; a creamy, pus-colored goo overflowed from the tops of others and leaked down their sides. There was a growl from the table…deep, almost animalistic, and filled with an anger that would have given any rational being pause before choosing to encounter the one that emitted the sound. The Borg Queen lowered her arm in a type of stupefaction, though her personal shield remained in place…

Travis Rand sat up as the dust cleared around him, multiple lacerations and scars across the entirety of his body. With the exception of his black shorts, he was otherwise naked, but even in spite of his scars and several holes in his arms and legs where the tubes had been inserted, he still appeared to be a prime physical specimen. He got up on shaky legs which quickly gave way beneath him. He fell to his knees, but still kept his baleful stare focused exclusively on the Borg Queen, who was held immobile by it, uncertain how to respond for the first time in her existence.

"Will!"

Riker turned to see Worf and Troi standing back to back, firing their Zuk-Lars at the drones, still advancing even though their mistress was petrified. The two officers had managed to drop at least half a dozen soldiers, but as Troi fired again, a more powerful force screen popped up in front of one of the Borg and held out against the antimatter. They had adapted.

But perhaps not to Will's gun, not yet. He got to his feet, about to leave cover to aid his comrades…

"Riker!"

Will stopped and turned to face Rand. The Horizon's captain tilted his chin toward a point somewhere off to the right. "Jacket pocket…phaser…give it to me!" Will turned and saw the captain's black uniform suspended by cables. Riker darted toward it and hurriedly searched the jacket pockets. Sure enough, there was a Type II phaser pistol tucked neatly into one of them…obviously with this stranger neutralized, the Borg believed the phaser was no threat. Which meant, possibly, that it hadn't been fired and they hadn't had a chance to adapt to it.

Will Riker spun on his heel and ran forward, tossing the phaser to the stranger as he passed by, on his way to help Worf and Troi. He saw out of the corner of his eye that the black man managed to catch it deftly, in spite of his wounds and shuddering body. Riker took a flying leap into one of the drones advancing on Deanna, taking it down hard to the metal floor. He jumped up and stomped on it behind the ear, crushing its skull beneath his boot heel, then whirled around and fired, satisfied for the moment that his weapon was still capable of incinerating a couple of drones.

"Will…" Deanna said as she saw more drones advancing from around a corner of the alcove.

"I know, Deanna…I know."

Travis Rand got to his feet, the seething anger within him giving him the power to rise steadily once more. He looked at the Borg Queen, who stared at him in puzzlement, wondering what he would do, even while she kept her force screen erected.

Travis held up the phaser for her to see. "Type II phaser. I can't fire this at you, because you'll adapt to it eventually. But you know what's interesting about this device," he said, and began tabbing in commands to its key pad beam controls, "Is that it has one specific feature which the guns Riker and his people are using, don't have: the ability to go into overload." He finished tabbing in commands, and a low whine began to emit from the phaser.

The Borg Queen chuckled somewhat self-consciously. "You wouldn't dare."

Rand smiled, but the smile didn't touch his eyes in the slightest. It was a dark smile, viper-like. "You weren't able to assimilate me, but you've been inside my mind deeply enough to know that I'm not bluffing. And even if you're not sure about that, you've assimilated my friends, my comrades, and all their memories. What do their memories, their combined knowledge of me, tell you about whether or not I'm lying? Look into Ben Williams' memories in particular, and find out what experiments I underwent recently in my own universe. Let me know if I'm bluffing."

Deanna's reflexes took over and she was able to utilize the martial arts Worf had taught her and other Enterprise crew members in class. She grabbed the arm of one drone and used its own body weight against it to tumble it back into several of its fellows, bringing them down. Her ears pricked up at the sound of the low whine from where the stranger and the Borg Queen were standing, a whine that was beginning to grow in intensity. "Is he doing what I think he's doing--?!" she said to either of her comrades.

"He is," Worf said as he snapped the neck of a drone, hoisted the fresh corpse over his head and threw it into a group of advancing soldiers. "He is a true warrior, able to accept death before surrender," the Klingon said with admiration. "He knows that today is a good day to die."

The Borg Queen accessed the memories of Ben Williams in a millisecond, found the doctor's discussion with Rand about the painful and intensely intimate experiments Rand's own government had performed on him, and Williams' subsequent examination of the captain in order to help him find and dislodge the gene that had been implanted within him. The doctor had been no more successful than she had been, but had come to the same conclusions she now did, as to whether Rand would be willing to die before ever undergoing something like that again.

"My shield will protect me!" she insisted desperately.

"Will it?" Rand said, holding up the phaser more clearly for her to see, as its power level readout climbed steadily and the whining began to increase to a near deafening crescendo. "When this thing goes off, the explosion will annihilate everything in this chamber, and probably a few walls behind it. Remember, through our forced semi-symbiosis, I have some of your memories too. I'm betting Picard will pick that moment to fire the Horizon's lasers into this weakened chamber and finish the job."

"We are the Borg!" she cried, retreating two steps back regardless, her shield moving back with her, her bravado gone. "Your willingness to die is illogical! Your tenacity to cling to singular will, your resistance, if futile!"

Rand shook his head. "Not if it takes you with me."

The Borg Queen pointed behind Rand, a triumphant sneer on her face. "Look! Look! Your comrades fall before me!"

Rand spared a glance. Indeed, Troi and Riker fell to the ground as Borg soldiers injected them with nano-probes. Worf was the last holdout, fighting against several soldiers who were weighing him down. He had sworn to Deanna he would die before letting her fall to the Borg, and had failed in his oath. An anguished growl rose from his throat as he fought to reach her side, to break her neck before the probes changed her fully…! But finally one of the soldiers injected distribution nodes into the Klingon's spine, and with a howl of defeat, he fell to the deck.

The twelve or so remaining drones turned as one toward Rand and the Queen and began advancing. Rand aimed the phaser and quickly set it on wide dispersal. He fired twice, and as the phaser was locked at setting 16, he obliterated the entire group of drones from existence. The phaser wine decreased significantly, but then began to pick up once again as he casually turned back to the Queen. "Oh, well," he said with a shrug. "I'm sure it'll take you a moment or two to get more drones in here. In the meantime, why don't we discuss my whole 'fuck the Borg' platform that I stand on."

The Queen's eyes narrowed. "Humans. No matter what universe you hail from, you are the most puzzling and frustrating life form I have ever encountered." She paused, glancing at the phaser. The whine seemed to be picking up more quickly. "What do you want?!" she shouted over the incessant high-pitched buzzing as the readout meter counted upward toward its final decisive end.

Rand took a step forward. "I want my crew back. I want you to leave the Federation alone. I want you to leave my universe alone. We've already established there's nothing you can do to stop me, so as long as I'm alive, I'm going to be ready to smash your civilization to the ground if you so much as glance in my reality's direction. Do we understand each other?"

The Borg Queen stared at him for a long moment. Not since before the inception of the Collective, when she had been a humble systems programmer that had created a revolutionary new concept for A.I., had she experienced rage at anything or anyone. But now, she remembered the feeling, for that was what she felt when she looked at this man. "We understand one another, Travis Rand," she finally said.

The overhead lights on the Horizon's bridge had gone out, and the much dimmer emergency lights had come on. The central viewscreen was thick with static, yet the Borg cube loomed large on the screen, seeming to sway this way and that…when it was actually the Horizon that was pitching and yawing from port to starboard and back again, trying unsuccessfully to dodge the enhanced phasers from the Enterprise. Although Data and Wesley still piloted the Heavy Cruiser with expert precision, the ship and its engines were too badly damaged to comply in the fullest.

Picard listened to the ship's metal groan and strain under the assault, as more of the vessel's shielding grids gave way. He held on tightly to the arms of his chair as he leaned forward slightly. "Mister Data…I believe Captain Blancq did say that when a Cruiser's engines blow, it leaves a two light-year circumference uninhabitable for two solar years?"

Data glanced over his shoulder at Picard. "She did, sir."

Picard looked over his shoulder at the young lieutenant that had taken Troi's place at the communication board. "Notify the Lunar and Mars colonies that they should prepare for immediate evacuation to Earth." As the lieutenant acknowledged the order, Jean-Luc turned forward once more. "Mister Crusher…set a collision course for the center of the cube. Data, what's the shortest span of time for which we can set the self-destruct?"

"Five seconds, sir," Data answered while seated beside him, young Wesley grimly set in the ordered heading.

Picard nodded. "Computer!" The captain said, and the ODC responded with an answering chime. "This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard, serial number UEF-209378-A. Prepare for automatic destruct sequence."

The computer gave off a double-chime. "Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain of Horizon. Recognized," the synthesized female voice said, finally sounding more businesslike than sensual. "First officer's name and serial number required for confirmation."

"Captain!" the lieutenant at communications interrupted. "We're receiving a signal, sir—from the Enterprise!"

"Computer, standby," Picard said urgently, then gestured to the comm officer. "Let's see it!"

The comm officer tabbed a couple of controls, and the image on the viewscreen changed to that of a dark-haired woman standing on the Enterprise bridge with several other beings—all human, with the exception of one lionoid—behind her. All had Borg implants grown out of their skin to varying degrees, but there was no vapid look in their eyes, as Collective drones usually had. The woman stepped forward, and even with Borg implants grown out of her cheek and partially covering her neck and skin, she was still strikingly beautiful.

"Captain Picard, I presume," she said, and there was the sound of great relief in her voice.

"Commander Christenson, I presume," Picard answered back.

"Yes, Captain. As you can see, the remaining crew here aboard your ship are back to normal." She shook her head at her own statement, then gestured at a couple of the Borg tubes protruding from her shoulder. "Well, sort-of back to normal, mainly."

Picard nodded slowly. "What happened, Commander?"

"From the memories I'm able to piece together from my brief time in the Collective…Captain Rand happened. He found a way to get the Borg to let us go."

"Captain Rand?" Picard said in puzzlement. "I was under the impression you served with your husband, David Christenson."

Mara's eyes were cast to the deck a moment. When she looked back at Picard, there was the pain of a repressed memory, always buried just below the surface, within her eyes. "I did. My husband…David…died a few years ago, in combat above Jupiter. Travis Rand has been in command since then."

Picard was astonished, and finally realized exactly how critical that skirmish above Jupiter had been, and what may or may not have changed in that other universe's history. "My condolences, Commander. However, I'd love to hear how Captain Rand pulled off what amounts to a major miracle. The Borg don't just let people go."

Mara half-smiled. "Captain Rand…'happens' a lot, sir. Finding a way out of no-win scenarios is something of a specialty with him. You'll be able to ask him yourself, though. The troop transport is leaving the Borg ship now, and it's got the Captain and your officers aboard."

"She's right, sir," the security officer at the tactical console said over his shoulder. "It's headed back home to us. What's more, the Borg are moving away."

"Divide the screen…let me see," Picard ordered, wondering if Christmas had somehow managed to make its way early this year. The tactical officer did as instructed, and the image on the viewscreen split with Mara's face to the right, and on the left side, the troop transport was emerging from a fresh portal on the Borg ship as the cube began coming about on a course taking it away from the direction of Earth!

"The cube's course will take it out-system, Captain," Wesley said as he checked the navigational headings. "It's heading on a flight path that should take it back to the Delta Quadrant."

Sure enough, on the left side of the screen, the Borg finished adjusting course. The cube jumped to lightspeed, and was gone from sight in an instant.

Picard sat back in his chair, speechless for a moment. "Well then…let's open the launch bay doors, and see what we can do about tending to the wounded we have on both ships—"

"Oh, pish-tosh, Jean-Luc," a well-known and equally annoying voice said from behind him. Picard jumped out of the command chair and spun around on his heel. The lieutenant at communications was gone, replaced by—

"Q!" Picard roared, the deep and abiding anger in his voice rumbling throughout the bridge.

The eternal trickster stood up at the comm board, and was dressed in one of the black UEF uniforms—jacket, shirt, slacks and military boots. "The wounded can wait ten seconds, don't you think? How about some margaritas down in the ship's bar, to celebrate a hard-earned victory?"

"You…you--!" Jean-Luc was so incensed, he couldn't even find the proper words to articulate his disgust for this infernal pest, and all he had done.

Q raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Even though I'm immortal, I can't believe I've lived to see the day when you lose all equanimity, Jean-Luc! Of course, the incoherent babbling is indicative of your species, so I guess you can't be blamed for falling into type."

Picard's face was flush with anger. "It wasn't enough for you. You couldn't be content with…with…" he searched for a term, "…mucking about in our universe! You just had to go and find some other poor souls in an entirely different reality to throw into your little rat maze!"

"You know, I could have sworn you had a sense of humor at one time, Picard," Q said, a faux disappointment in his voice. "Not much of one, but there was a slight spark. Have you checked the Horizon's files thoroughly enough? Does this ship have a lost and found?"

Picard shook his head in disgust. "Enough! You must return both crews to their respective ships and places at once, Q! I demand you return things to the way they rightfully should be!"

Q 's eyes narrowed. "Let's just remember who's the omnipotent being here, my friend," he said darkly. "Luckily for you, I'm in a good mood today. As for that sense of humor you're lacking, why don't we see if either of the good doctors Crusher or Williams can help you retrieve it." Q raised his hand, snapped his fingers, and in a flash of light—