Lilo & Stitch's Star Trek
Chapter 62: Checkmate
Deep in the depths of the cube, it could be said that things were not going smoothly.
"Alert: significant threat detected. Designation: USS Rhode Island registry number NCC-72701. Technology: phase-disrupting cannon and multi-phased shielded hull plating. Recommendation: temporary retreat until rein-"
"No!" the Queen demanded. "We must get the girl back or else finish her off – at all costs! Without her, everything goes to waste, and if we wait any longer they will succeed!"
"A-a-action not recommended. Initiating retreat to unimatrix two-three-tw-"
"We will stay and fight. We have the capability. You will comply."
A pause – more than three seconds long – occurred before the Collective responded.
"Complied. Continuing attack of USS Serenity."
An almost manic smile lapped over the Queen's lips. Setbacks mattered not to her. She needed to win. She had to win.
And she was going to win.
"Gantu?" asked Pleakley incredulously. "How can it be possibly possible?"
"You know this – uh – person?" asked Ensign Grey. Jameston gave him a stern look, and then returned her gaze to the viewscreen.
"Uh – it's complicated," Gantu admitted somewhat sheepishly. "I'm not exactly sure I have it down myself. You see, Dr. Hamsterviel ordered me to follow you covertly – experiments and such, you know the drill – but when we had reached the wormhole, it was… uh, destaticising?"
"Destabilising," came a voice, and out from behind the chair popped the mustard-yellow Experiment 625. "The chronovortex's spatial reference point was decaying; as such, the exit aperture was moving closer to the equivalent co-ordinate for the entrance aperture-"
"Which apparently means we popped out a lot closer to home than you did," interrupted Gantu. "We detected your ship's weapons signatures and how the other ship absorbed its blows, and how they were, quite frankly, shredding you guys to pieces. And so we contacted the Federation of this time period, but they felt our concerns to be… a little presumptuous. As such, technically this is a scouting mission, but these two captains tell me they're quite formidable."
"-didn't even get to the good part, might have well told me to go make a sandwich," 625 could be heard muttering in the background.
"Alright, that's fair enough," said Jameston. "Jumba, Pleakley, I suppose you can vouch for these two?"
In the instant after she asked that, she saw them exchange worried glances. But they turned to her and, very hesitantly, nodded. Jameston was aware why they were worried – Gantu's reputation preceded him – but she figured that, when the worst came to the worst, not even he would leave anyone to something like the Borg.
"Well, at least that's settled," said Jameston, nodding and turning to the officer on the right of the splitscreen. "And Captain, who might you be?"
"Harry Kim, sir, USS Rhode Island," was the reply. "We've got the USS Hood as well."
"Vi Jameston, USS Serenity," said Jameston. "Unfortunately, we have barely nothing - what's your weaponry like?"
"Oh, you're going to love this," said Kim, smiling. "Transphasic missiles, nine-hundred and seventy-eight megaton blast. Last we checked, it shredded a cube to pieces."
"Transphasic?"
"It delivers a blast on multiple phase levels," Kim explained. "The shields can hold against the blast on a single phase, but not on them all. The specific phase modulation is randomised to prevent them from adapting as long as possible."
"But- that technology is only theoretical!" exclaimed Barmez. "There have been papers published, sure, but we're years from even considering-"
"Let's just say a friend from the future helped us out," said Kim. "We're at your ready, Captain, unless you prefer to stand around-"
"O-of course not," said Jameston. "Although, we can't rely on them not having found a way around that – we should still strike where the leather is thinnest, so to speak."
Harry Kim nodded. "True, Captain Jameston."
"Alright," Jameston said. "Alpha positions, formation Beta-Delta-Two. We'll relay that to your library computer, Captain Gantu – it can understand Galactic Basic format, correct?"
"Correct, Captain, but there's no need to go to the trouble – we already set up a shared translation connection with the Rhode Island," said Gantu. "We'll receive the formations in a format my ship can recognise."
"Alright, then, Captain. You'll take position Alpha. The Hood will take Beta, and Rhode Island will take Gamma. Are all hands ready?"
"Yes, sir," came the reply from the Rhode Island.
"Alright. Ming, keep that evacuation order on standby, just in case we have to get out of here in a hurry."
"Aye, captain," said Ming, tapping a few controls as she did.
"Alright then, let's do this. Engage."
The two captains disappeared from the screen, and a new image appeared on it – a three-dimentional schematic of the battlefield, slanted at a forty-five degree angle and centered on the elliptic of the galaxy's center. Compared to the cube, the ships were tiny – as such, the computer had placed coloured translucent halos around each ship, to indicate its location.
"Captain Gantu, action manoeuvre one on my mark."
The Borg cube was seemingly not paying attention to the ships; indeed, it had been, for the last few minutes, attempting to sap the shields of the Serenity dry with more bombardment, and while this was having some effect, the ship was still holding up to the brunt of the force.
"Shields at forty percent," reported Barmez as another vibration rolled through the ship.
"We're sitting ducks," muttered Jameston. "Why aren't they tractoring us again?"
"Captain," reported Ming, "the old-style ship has reached the appropriate zenith point."
"Alright, Captain Gantu, mark one!"
The dot with the red-coloured halo sparked out of view, and then sparked back, this time above the cube. A barrage of little red dots ejected from the spot, and impacted the thin line that represented the Borg cube's shield, bursting from existence as they dissolved against it.
The cube fired a barrage of pulse torpedoes, but the smaller ship was much smaller, and thus easier to manoeuvre, than the Serenity ever could; it easily dodged each pulse and fired its own volley back.
"Alright, Ming, establish a shared connection with the other two Federation ships for their sensor logs, then run a detailed sensor sweep of EM distribution across the Cube. Hood and Rhode, move into positions Beta- and Gamma-One, and run scans from your end."
"Aye, Captain" came the reply.
Another vibration rocked the vessel, reminding them that the cube hadn't forgotten them yet.
"Thirty-six percent," Barmez read from her console.
On-screen, a sky-blue halo (the Rhode Island) moved behind the cube, and an orange one (the Hood) swung below. The cube continued to fire on the red orb and the Serenity, still seemingly ignoring the other Federation ships.
"Estimated time to completion – one minute and forty-seven seconds," said Ming.
Co-ordinating the sensor sweeps would mean that each ship would have to cover less area than they would separately; not only that, but they would also get more information than otherwise. And concurrent scans meant that a process that alone would have taken over six minutes of their precious time now took considerably less.
Jameston paced nervously, every now and then glancing at their guests. What must be running through their minds?
And was there something disastrously wrong with the cube? For the last few hours, it had been responding much slower and with less force than she'd expected, given their reputation; even now, their attention appeared to be divided much more easily than she'd thought it would. They couldn't be afraid – it was against their very nature, and besides, their only opponents until now had been stranded in space – so was it something more systematic?
"Twenty-nine percent," came the reading as yet another jolt vibrated across the ship.
Waiting was the hardest part of any plan, but Jameston knew it was necessary. Too short, and they might miss something they could otherwise use.
The ship rumbled again, and the call "Twenty-two percent" rang through the air.
Finally, Ming looked up from her console. "Scans complete."
"On-screen," Jameston ordered.
A larger image of the cube flashed onto the screen, replacing the battlefield diagram; a second later, a heatmap was overlaid around it. The cube, and the heatmap with it, began to rotate slowly, giving the crew a three-dimentional view of the data.
"As you can see," said Ming, "most of this data comes from the cube's shielding, as our scans are unable to penetrate them there."
"Effectively giving us a diagram of the weakness of the shields," said Jameston.
"Right. But in some cases, shown by the inward red spikes, the shielding is so low that we were able to peek through it."
She tapped some keys, and thick yellow rectangle corners appeared around the spikes in the diagram.
"Some are too small for us to do anything with," she continued, and with a tap a good percentage of the rectangle highlights disappeared. "So, these are the best areas to attack."
"We could use some of those as a distraction," muttered Ensign Grey. "Like a mosquito – all we need to do is convince them long enough that we pose enough of a threat for them to stop and itch."
"And then we deliver the payload while they're trying to squash the insect," replied Jameston. "Which would be the best to fire the torpedoes at?"
"This one is in a direct line to the explosive charges we laid," replied Barmez, tapping a few keys at her own station; as she did, one of the spikes was highlighted by an orange rectangle. "That way, even if they have partially protected themselves against the transphasic torpedoes, we still might trigger a secondary explosion."
"Good work, Ming and Barmez," said Jameston. "Alright, address the other ships: new plans are incoming. Ming, modify the plan so the Hood, Mr. Gantu's ship and our own are situated above the closest spike to each. The Rhode Island needs to be positioned above that orange spike, but only just outside torpedo range."
"Aye, captain," replied Ming.
Jameston looked once more towards the aliens. Pleakley seemed somewhat fascinated by the data, whereas Jumba had been scratching his chin thoughtfully.
"Mr Jookiba, your thoughts?"
Jumba started at the mention of his name, but quickly regained his composure. "Ah, I was just thinking – the Borg are being controlled by single Queen, who can override the collective, no?"
"That's what it looks like."
"What if she has becoming so driven to capture something that she is losing all reason?"
Jameston opened her mouth to speak, but before she could do so, Ensign Grey cut in.
"Surely the Borg would override her, though? Elect a new leader if they felt she wasn't doing her job properly?"
"Perhaps one cube alone isn't powerful enough to dethrone a Queen – they are quite far from the Delta Quadrant," said Jameston.
"Also, they have been using less power than before," said Jumba. "Perhaps they are finding it difficult to go against their nature – a constant distraction, so to speak."
"That's possible," replied Jameston."Well, if they're distracted, then that makes it all the easier for us to divide their attention. But I don't see what she'd want so badly."
"They were after Lilo before," said Pleakley. "Why they'd want her…"
Jameston frowned. "They have chosen a representative before to speak to humanity – Locutus of Borg. But they didn't seem this concerned about him, if I recall my history books correctly. And what they'd want with such a young child-"
"Maybe they think cute will work where authority failed."
Jameston laughed. "I don't think the Borg have an appreciation of 'cute'. But seriously, I think it's something else."
"Captain!" Ming swivelled around in her chair. "Hood and Rhode Island confirming orders received and understood."
"Acknowledged. Ming, switch the battle plan back on, and Malo, take us to position epsilon. Hood, you're headed for position delta, Rhode to eta, Gantu to zeta. On my mark."
The Borg vessal vanished from the screen, replaced by the diagram of the battlefield.
"Mark two."
A low humming filled the air, and on the screen the brightly-haloed ships moved to position. The Borg ship was still focusing on Gantu's ship, in between quaking blasts at Serenity.
Once each ship had reached its designated spot, Jameston raised her hand.
"All ships, prepare full phaser and torpedo spread."
A few moments passed before the reply came.
"All ships reporting ready, Captain," Ming reported.
With a flick of the wrist, Jameston gave the order. "Hood, engage!"
The orange-haloed ship began spewing a multitude of orange dots and lines, all splaterring against the shield. The cube responded with a volley of shots, which similarily failed to connect.
"Gantu, engage!"
Gantu's ship fired its plasma weapons, which met a similar fate,
"Right, Ming, it's our turn; Hood, with us. Engage!"
Ming's hands frantically flew across the control panel; on-screen, the purple dot that represented the Serenity hurled torpedo and phaser fire. The Borg ship was attempting to engage them, and normally this would be no problem for the cube, but it was clear that the situation they were under wasn't normal, and the ship's attention was increasingly divided.
"The Hood has made contact," Ming said, still engaged with her console – and sure enough, the yellow torpedoes had broken through the shield, and now both they and phaser from the Hood were impacting the Borg ship's hull.
And then, a curious thing happened; the cube ceased its spread out attack, and focused all its weapons on all but the Hood.
"Ming, Borg cube on-screen, Rhode Island, now!" shouted Jameston!
At almost the exact same time, the captain of the Hood barked "Shields to maximum!"
The spectacle was breathtaking. Shimmering white torpedoes soared through space, interstellar eagles seeking their prey; as they touched the shield, they each burst into five or six separate lights which then rained down upon the surface of the cube, leaving humongous plumes in their wake.
And then, a great blast engulphed the cube. Orange clouds roard and burst and rippled before them. Just ahead of them, debris shimmered blue as it burned up against the shields.
As the smoke cleared, it became obvious that the detonators had done the trick. Great swarths of the cube were gone, and the ship now resembled what would happen if you took to one of those old, bulky computer screens with a sledgehammer.
"Ninety-two percent of the cube inoperable or destroyed," reported Ming.
But Jameston's thoughts were elsewhere.
"Ming, hail the Hood."
"Hailing systems open," she replied.
The Hood was now visible, and it appeared to be badly damaged from the attack. The saucer was scoured and scorched, a chunk taken out of the fore of the saucer; the warp pilons were venting bright-blue plasma.
"Hood, do you read me? Over."
Unsettling silence filled the air for a few brief moments.
But then, static burst through the channel, and a voice emerged.
"…reporting casulties and widespread injury, but we're still in one piece, thank God."
Jameston wiped her brow. At least most of them had made it.
They were all gone now, the voices in her head. All she could hear were the moans of agony which echoed from those drones who had been spared from the grip of the explosion, only to die slowly and painfully in the cube, all alone.
But one by one, even they disappeared.
The Queen's sanctum had collapsed in the explosion. As for the Queen herself, her legs had been crushed under a falling bulkhead, and now she lay in agony, in a space no bigger than a metre square, waiting for the end.
No, it wasn't the pain that agonised her. It was the feeling of helplessness, of being alone. Even as a child, she'd had her own collective to help her, to back her up, to make her more than she was. And now, here she was, broken, shattered, with nothing but her thoughts.
She shifted about, triying to make herself as comfortable as possible; it was then that her arm brushed against something soft.
It was the penguin plush she'd found earlier Memories of the toy, of her friends, for whom she'd given her freedom to save, flodded back to her, and for the first time in twenty years, she cried.
She didn't know how long it took her to stop – it had felt like an eternity – but it came to pass that she was struck by a thought. Fighting back her tears, she tapped a control column that was laying beside her, and to her surprise, it sprung to life.
Sowing up her courage, she bit her lip and began to type. After all she'd done, after all they had forced her to do – if this was going to be her last few moments, she wanted to make them worth something.
"So, what do we do now?" asked Jameston.
"No signs of activity on the ship," Ming reported.
"The Borg usually detonate the ship if it becomes inoperable," Grey said. "But we've never come across one this badly damaged. Perhaps there's simply no-one left – or the Borg are simply too damaged psychologically to continue."
Jameston nodded. "We'll search the ship for survivors. Mr. Kim, my records tell me you have hands-on experience with the Borg?"
"As hands-on as it gets, ma'am," replied Kim over the comm..
"You should lead a resue mission to retrieve any survivors. See if they can be rehabilitated."
"Will do," said Kim. "We'll request a specialist to help with the procedures."
Jumba and Pleakley exchanged knowing glances while Jameston simply nodded.
"Alright. We'll leave with the towships, and if you need us we'll be-"
It happened in seconds. With an almighty blast. the Borg ship disintergrated in a ball of fire and smoke.
Everyone just stood there for a moment, none not quite knowing what to say.
Then, a series of green lines appeared in mid air, just in front of the captain. When they disappated, a small penguin plush dropped to the floor.
"It could be a bomb," warned Grey, but Jameston ignored him, knelt down, and picked the plush up.
"I'm receiving a message," said Ming. "It says… oh my."
"What is it?"
"It says, 'I'm sorry. Mir.'"
Grey raised his eyebrow. "Does that mean anything to you, sir?"
Jameston looked into the eyes of the plush, and she remembered the friend that didn't make it out of the Borg cube, all those years ago.
"Finally, you're at peace, Mir," she murmured.
And she hugged the plush as hard as she could, and clamped her eyes shut. And she could almost feel her friend hugging back.
When she stood back up again, she struggled to keep back the tears. She had to be strong, for her crew.
"A-address the crew," she told Ming.
Ming pressed a few keys and nodded.
"Al-alright crew, the battle i-is over. W-we've got to w-wait for the t-tow ships to arrive. Ceremonies a-at oh-five-hundred. End transmission."
And as the bridge crew silently watched her captain, Jameston mulled over her own thoughts, and reflected that, for all the loss of her crew, her family for the past four years, the Kobiyashi Maru scenario might have been the better outcome.
"We are here to pay respects to our fallen dead, and to those long ago snatched by the Borg whose souls may finally be at rest," Jameston said to the assembled crowd as before her, four torpedoes, filled with the ashes of the crewmembers who had not made it through this adventure with them, and each draped with the flag of the Federation, were lowered into the bays. "They lived in the moment, and died in battle. Many of them we knew and loved; some family, some f-friends, but every one hearts will live on in each of us, as their far too brief time among us has touched us all, and their soul will soar across the cosmos f-forever."
Wiping a tear from her eye, Jameston looked out to the crowd. Most of the crewmembers before remained stoic through the eulogy, no doubt attempting to emulate the bravery their friends faced in their last moments. Jameston wished she could be as steady - she was quite aware of the quavering and stutters punctuating her speech - but when she considered the people she never knew, and saw the faces of those she did swim into her thoughts, she could not help herself.
There were others who could not hide their emotion as well. Some cried into handkerchiefs or into the shoulders of loved ones; some quivered their lip constantly and had to wipe their eyes every now and then. Jumba stood at the back, his head bowed; on the other hand, tears waterfalled from Pleakley's eyes, completely drenching a napkin, though he made nary a sound.
At this point, Ming and Malo stepped forward to blow their two-tone Boatswain's whistles, and then returned to the line alongside one of the tubes.
Jameston summed her courage to deliver what would be the final word - they at least deserved as much.
"We now commit them to space, to the freedom they fought valiantly to protect. Godspeed."
And with those final words, the torpedoes began to roll down the bays, filing into their respective chutes. After they were in place, the doors were closed by a crewmember, and a volley of thuds indicated that the torpedoes had been fired into the nether, where their occupants would sleep forever more.