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From: Sean Corbett <scorbe1@gl.umbc.edu>
To: Joseph Young <jfy@tivoli.com>
Subject: STAR TREK : DARKEST DAYS 
Date: Fri, 20 Jan 1995 12:49:35 -0500


 (Sorry about taking so long, couldn't get on a system...anyway, there is
  one huge mistake in the story (But it doesn't effect anything really)
  which has Chakotay as the first officer of Voyager (I wrote this before
  details were known. Anyhow, there are spelling and grammar mistakes, but
  those are because I wrote and posted on first draft...no time to do 
  otherwise. Enjoy)

****************************       **************

		     STAR  TREK :  DARKEST  DAYS

					     written by  Sean Corbett

      ************    **************   ************   **************


	   Historians Note:
			     The events that take place in this story are 
			     to take place one month after the incedent at
			     Virdian III. (See Generations.)

		  *****  *****  ****


	    PROLOGUE


       The rain continued to fall on the remains of the four century old 
house, burnt to the ground only a month before.  Former Captain of the 
starship Enterprise, Jean-Luc Picard, stood at what would had been the 
front doorway, looking at the wreckage, knowing his entire family had 
perished in it. He was the last of the Picards, a family knee deep in 
costume and culture, and tradition. All of what the millenia old family 
had been now rested on the shoulders of one man. 
       For the thirtieth day, Picard had come to pay homeage, to grieve, 
to look on in disbelief at the fate of his only living relatives. The 
rain that had fallen had soaked the ground, letting the ashes of the 
wooden home swell and give off a musty odor. Standing beside the once 
great shipship commander, was the only person to survive the fire; the 
housekeeper, Elizabeth. She had suffered only a minor burn on his arm, 
trying to help Picards' own brother out of the house, but she just wasn't 
strong enough. He had died, and Picard knew that she had at least tried.
       He turned away, looking down the worn dirt road, hoping that 
someone would come, perhaps to rescue him from this miserable depression 
he had found himself wallowing in. But no one came, not a single person
had shown up at his vineyard in more than a month. I don't belong here, 
he thought, I need to get out of here, before it gets to me. 
       It was too late, it had already gotten to him. 
       An hour later, the rain had all but stopped and the sun shined 
high over the mountains that kept this valley secure for thousands of 
years. Picard had looked up and wondered when the call would come, the 
call for a new command.  He and his command crew had been given "extended 
shoere leave" which meant that no command was ready for them. The rest of 
the crew, the ones who were well enough after the crash, had all been 
reassigned to other vessels. 
       Unlike the last few days, Picard had not found himself picking 
through the rubble for anything that may possibly have any value to him, 
anything sentimental. Today he walked the length of his yard, looking at 
the vines, hoping that he would be able to rebuild someday on what had 
fallen.  He noticed the sun had dissappeared, looking up, hoping that no 
more rain was coming, he saw a shuttle glide down from the heavens, land 
near what had been the front yard, and a young officer emerge.
       It's about time, he thought. 
			 The young cadet, it seemed, walked hurried over to Picard, who had
started his way back to the house. A house that no long lived.
       From the distance, he could hear the man say, "Captain Jean-Luc 
Picard? Priority One Message form 'Fleet Command." Now that was something 
he hadn't expected. Priority One, he thought, what in god's name would 
they do that for.
       When they were finally face to face, "Sir, Admiral Necheyev wishes 
you to return to the City immediately. There seems to be a problem, 
Captain. ".
       Picard took the cue, "Delta Problem?". 
       "Aye, sir,"the boy said, "It is definitely a ... Delta Problem." 
He could see Picard turn pale, so pale he looked like the android. I 
should have asked what a 'Delta Problem' is when I was back at 
headquarters, the young officer said.
       "Very good, Ensign. Let me get my things, and we can leave." 

 
		 CHAPTER  ONE


       "Two hundred?" Sisko exclaimed, he wanted to strangle the little 
bastard, "Where exactly do you think you're going to put two hundred 
cases of that Klingon goo?"
	Quark thought he had made one of the best deals of the year, he 
thought wrong, "I...uh...I was hoping to store them down where the mining 
equipment used to be, Commander." 
	" Hmph, I can tell him where to put that crap," the Constable 
said from his place on the uppermost level of Ops, Deep Space Nine. He 
was in a good mood this morning, and it seemed everyone know knew.
	"What if it spoils?" Sisko asked.
	"Qau'Kla doesn't spoil, in fact it never goes bad." Quark said, 
"So how about it commander?"
	"Fine, fine..." Sisko said, heading back to his office, the doors 
swooshed open,"If I smell one bad thing down there, that Qau'Kla is 
getting beamed out."
	"Oh, thank you, Commander." Quark said, thankful that he didn't 
have to offer any latinum for the storage of the food.
	The doors closed behind Sisko, he walked around the edge of his 
desk and flopped down into his chair. A little peace and quiet, he 
thought, will do me a little good.
	 The chime of the office door woke Ben Sisko from the light sleep 
he was moving into, Kira stood in the door, hands behind her back, "What 
is it, Major?"
	 She hestitated at first, then took a step forward, "Commander, 
there is a Priority Two message on a secure subspace channel from 
StarBase 312." He knew why she hestitated, she hated those damned secret 
messages StarFleet liked to send.
	 "Pipe in here," Sisko said. Kira turned on her heels and 
signaled to someone in Ops to make the proper contection. The door 
closed. On the viewscreen beside Sisko's desk, on the wall, appeared the 
symbol of the Federation on a blue background. The screen resolved into 
the image of an Andorian Admiral. Damn, Sisko thought, I can never 
remember his name. "Admiral, what can I do for you?"
	 The blue creature frowned, or at least tried to, "That's Admiral 
T'Welz to you, Commander Sisko," he said through the slit that they 
called a mouth.
	 "Yes, Sir." He was steaming, never liked him anyway.
	 "Commander, I wanted to inform you that StarFleet intellegence 
indicates that the Borg have made an offensive move against the Romulan 
Star Empire." the antennae on his head moving in every which way. "We 
also feel that they have made a move against the Dominion in the Gamma 
Quadrant."
	 "Understood, Admiral." SIsko said. My god, he thought, the Borg 
making two moves at once. This isn't good.
	 "You are ordered to beef up security on the station and begin 
battle drills with your starship...completely precautionary, Commander," 
the Andorian said, his dull blue skin looked marked with the scares of 
some Andorian disease.
	 "Understood, sir"
	 "Admiral T'Welz, StarBase 312, Out." and the screen reverted 
back to the Federation symbol and blue background.
	  Damn, he thought, damn.

    
	    CHAPTER TWO


      "So... there she is, " the 'Fleet Commander said. Beside him stood 
the night manager of the 'Fleet Museum, mostly there for security 
reasons, not for managing anything. They stood inside the well lit 
command center, a room with four inche thick transparent aluminum as a 
window looking out in the elder space station. Out there, beyond the 
glass, were the ships that had formed the Federation, mostly outdated 
rust-buckets, some stood ready for reassignment. One stood ready to fight 
the Borg, though her engineers had constructed her more than a hundred 
years before, for very different reasons.
      "I don't think I can make that kind of decision," the freckled 
twnety-something said, his uniform the standard, though he would never 
actually be part of StarFleet.
      "Oh, sure you can... besides, I'm not asking for permission, I'm 
giving an order." the Fleet Admiral said. He liked giving orders, he 
liked doing this kind of thing every now and again. It just gets to 
stuffy in the same office day in and day out, he thought.
      "Yes, sir," the night manager said, "But I don't think Bob's going 
to like this...". He reached down and flung the lights that shined on the 
old girl on, the metal plating of the ship glowed with age, a proud and 
respected ship, she was. She was also the last of her kind, the last of 
thirteen original ships. Now she was being readied for one final voyage, 
one that would be both a beginnings, of sorts, and a reunion, of sorts.
       "Don't worry, we'll take good care of her." The Admiral said, 
patting the young man on the back, "We're going to upgrade weapons and 
shields and that will be all... she'll look the same," trying to comfort 
the boy/man.
       "What about...uhh...what about a warp core? She doesn't have one, 
you know," the manager of the "Fleet Museum said.
       "We'll take care of that too..."

			 ***  ***  ***  ***

	"Captain Picard," the Romulan said, thinking of what he knew of 
the man,"Yes, we've met many times, all of them quite friendly, of 
course.". His outstretched brow, hiding his eyes for his commanders view.
	 Sitting behind her desk, Sela said, " Good, Commander Tomolak, 
because it is you who will be in command of the 'Welcoming Committee' 
when Picard and StarFleet arrive.". She sat back, remembering what had 
transpired last time Picard and his damned android had been in Romulan 
territory. And that damned logical Spock, she thought, he's still here. 
Well, when we defeat the Borg and cripple the StarFleet when they leave, 
I'll take care of him...personally.


	  CHAPTER  THREE


      The Bridge loomed large before the incoming shuttle, Picard and 
Ensign Rome had spent the entire trip from France in complete silence. 
Picard worried about what the 'Delta Problem' could possibly mean to him, 
he knew of no ship that was ready for a new command. Picard didn't like 
the idea of taking someone elses command, he felt that they were just as 
worthy as he to command a starship. Though, he thought, I wouldn't mind 
taking the Cairo away from Jellico for a while, just so he knows what's like.
      The shuttle sat down on the pad that had been waiting for him. Two 
other officers ushered him from the shuttle into Main, the building that 
housed all of StarFleet command, the offices, the personnel. Up two 
levels and into the official office of the one admiral he didn't want to see,
"Admiral Necheyev, I was wondering when you'd need me again."
      "We don't have time for the pleasantries, Captain," She said, he 
truly disliked her, and the feeling was seemingly mutual. She leaned 
forward, hands clasped on the glass desk. The door closed behind Picard; 
he took a seat directly in front of her. "Captain, we both know why we 
asked you back..."
      "Actually, all I've found out is that we have a 'Delta Problem'".
      "Yes, we do..."she said, her hair seemed different to Picard, then 
it seemed a different color everytime he saw her. "The Borg are making a 
move on the Beta quadrant, on the Romulans."
      "And they want us to help fend them off"
      "No... they don't want us to, but they need us to," she said, 
knowing full well that Picard meant that,"The Romulan's originally went to 
the Klingons for help, but were turned down by that damned Gowron. Fool," 
she said.
       "Then they came to us,"
       "Not exactly...we recieved a subspace transmission from Ambassador 
Spock, on Romulus, telling of the problems with the Borg. It appears, 
Captain, that they want what the Romulans have" the Admiral said.
       "What's that?"
       "People, and many of them... it's seems that when their little 
stint with Lore ended, so did his type of terror."
       "Admiral, what's this got to do with me?"
       "Captain Picard, you are going to lead a 'Task Force' of sixteen 
starships, your ship not included, into Romulan space to help defeat the 
Borg."
       "I see," he said, remembering, all to vividly, what happened last 
time they had a run-in with the Borg, then everytime before that...
       "You have three days to find Will Riker and the rest of your 
command crew... I want you all back here for a briefing on the complete 
affair." she said, standing and moving toward the door.
       "I understand." he said, leaving the Office of Death, as he 
thought of it. Damn, he said, I wanted command back, but not to fight the 
Borg. 

		     ****  ****  ****  ****

       Over the world, a world with no particular sun, orbited a ship of 
unknown origin. A ship with powers that would have seemed un-imaginable to 
anyone beyond the spacefarers of this century. A ship with a crew from 
worlds scattered about the Delta Quadrant, a ship that was built for a 
single purpose - to assimilate all intelligent being. A simple task that 
was made difficult by the stubborn nature of all living things, by the 
free will of those beings. No one wants to be controlled, no one wants to 
be changed. No one wants the Borg to come to their world, usually leaving 
it in rubble.
      That is, no one but those who lived here, on this world. A world of 
creatures they had never seen before, a creature that was impossible to 
assimilate, a creature that resembled a glowing puddle of water.
      It was here, on this world, that the unbelievable thing happened to 
the Borg, they made a deal. A deal of no assimilation, a deal that they 
could 'live' with.  But it was this compromise that started the Borg to 
begin to access the only remaining subroutine in their memory circuits 
that came from the android named Lore.
     The subroutine was named : Deceit.


	 CHAPTER FOUR


     Captains Log, Stardate 49001.3 :
	  It took me two days to discover the whereabouts of Will, but
	  I eventually tracked him down...New Orleans, what a city it
	  has become... He just happened to know exactly where to 
	  contact the rest of the command crew of the now deceased
	  Starship Enterprise.

     "So, Captain, you mind telling me what this is all about?" Riker 
said, sauntering over to stand at the bar next to his captain, and friend.
     "Will, it's classified information...not here, not now."Picard 
answered, "You'll just have to wait till we return to Command for the 
formal briefing by Admiral Necheyev."
     "Riker didn't like that, classified info. usually meant the 
Romulans, and Necheyev usually meant the Borg.  But Picard was looking 
around, keeping a shifty eye on everyone, including the members of the 
jazz band playing in the corner.
     "So what are waiting for? I told Data to round up the rest and meet 
us at Command at 1800 hours." Will Riker, Commander of the USS Enterprise 
NCC 1701-D said.
     "Will, it takes only a moment to get to San Fransisco, and that's 
five hours from now...Why not just sitback and relax, it'll be the last 
time we'll get to do that, for a while." Picard said with a smile, 
rubbing the top of his bald, reflecting head. 
     Riker didn't like the sound of the last line Picard fed him. What 
could he mean "for the last time for a while", he thought, it must be one 
hell of a mission StarFleet had cooked up for them.

			      ***  ***  ***

     "Captain: Admiral Necheyev just passed by and told me to tell you 
that the briefing is being held in Conference Room two on Level five." 
Data announced as he stood up, leaving the the couch he had been sitting 
on lonely.
      "Fine, Mr. Data."
      "She also wishes me to inform you that the briefing will begin as 
soon as the last person arrives." Data stated matter-of-factly.
      "See, Will, I told you we weren't going to be late for anything." 
Picard said looking up the foot and a half up to his first officer.
      "Actually, Captain, You are the last two scheduled that have yet to 
arrive." Data piped in as the three began heading for the 'lift.
      Once they got to the fifth floor of the building that held the 
brain of StarFleet, they had nothing to do but pass three separate 
security checkpoints, before entering the room. Seated around the black 
marble table were the heads of StarFleet, his command crew, and the 
Romulan Ambassador to the Federation. 
      "Nice of you to show up," a voice called out from halfway up the 
table, a familiar voice that sent shudders down the spine of the chrome-
domed captain. 
       "Admiral Necheyev, it's a pleasure to see you again," Picard said, 
knowing that the last time they spoke was directly after the destruction 
of the Enterprise, something she was not the least bit happy about.
       "Captain, we would like to get started as soon as possible...So if 
you and your men would take your seats, we could get started."She said, 
trying to assert her power over the older man. 
       Picard, Riker, and Data moved around the table to take their 
seats, directly across from the Admiral, obviously she wanted to get so 
close to the captain that she smell his fear when word of the mission was 
told.
      Turning to his right, he could see that someone, an admiral he 
didn't recognize, had taken to the podium at the oppisite end of the 
table. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this meeting is being held to discuss a 
situation that is becoming all but too obvious to us at StarFleet 
Headquarters." The Admiral began. He seemed to babble, Picard drifted 
back to his encounter with Dr. Soran and Captain Kirk on Virdian III. 
      When he came back to present, the admiral was finally getting to 
the jest of the meeting, "That's where you come in, Captain Picard."
      Oh no, he thought, I've been caught off guard. What's he talking 
about, damn. "Excuse me, Sir." was all he could come out with.
      "Captain, perhaps I didn't make it clear" the Vulcan Admiral 
said, "At the joint request of the Romulan Ambassador and Ambassador 
Spock, we at StarFleet command have decided to send a full task force 
into Romulan space so help defend against the Borg.". So that's what 
it was all about. Romulans versus the Borg, how couldn't I see that 
coming, Picard thought.  Sitting next to him was Will Riker, who actually 
had seen that coming.  
       "I realize that, Admiral, but what exactly does this have to do 
with me and my command crew." Picard said. Jean-Luc was beginning to 
feel a little overwhelmed when he finally got the fact that he was going 
to be the leader of that task force. "From what I've gotten from 
StarFleet Command, the next ship out of Utopia Planitia has already been 
assigned a crew." 
      "True, Captain. That's why we've decided to split you're command 
crew into two separate groups. You will lead one ship into Romulan 
space, while Commander Riker is given command of The Enforcer." the 
Vulcan said.
      The Enforcer was the next ship to come out of Utopia Planitia, 
although not completed construction, she was combat ready. As for 
Picard," Begging the Admirals pardon, What ship am I going to command?"
      "As of this time, that information is classified and will be 
handed out when StarFleet deems it ready." Admiral Necheyev said from 
her seat across from Picard. He could see the dislike she had for him 
in her eyes.
      "That will be all... Thank You." the Vulcan Admiral said from the 
podium, before turning to his right and exiting before any further 
questions could be asked.
       "That was surely eye opening..." Riker said cynically into Picards 
ear.


	CHAPTER FIVE


    "I don't understand, Will" Picard said "They'll tell you what ship 
their giving you, but me...why not at least tell me what ship?". He was 
agitated, by the secrecy of the whole operation, as if they weren't 
telling either of them anything.
    "That seems to be the way they're going about everything these days, 
sir" Riker said, that is, Captain Riker said. Before leaving the 
conference room, Admiral Necheyev had 'field promoted' him to captain, 
the better for keeping a crew in shape on such missions as these. A 
captain, not a commander.
     "On the contrary, sir" Data said, standing behind and between both 
of them, biting on his finger nails. Geordi had yet to come up with a 
way to get that damned emotion chip out of Data's fused circuitry, "They 
have been quite open in the past with command decisions.".
     "Data..." Picard said, he was agitated by the whole situation. He 
remembered, all to well infact, their last meeting with the Borg.
     "Sir," Will said, looking down at his former captain, but still 
commanding officer," Perhaps we should begin to go over the crew 
rosters, before I leave for Mars." His orders were already clear, a 
packet had been handed to him on his way out with his additional command 
pip, and the instructions on what to do once he got to the Utopia 
Planitia yards in orbit around Mars.
      "Will, what's the use going over crew rosters when your orders 
have already told you Data and Geordi have been assigned to the 
Enforcer. " Picard said, almost whining. He felt bad, he looked bad, he 
just wanted to be alone. What Jean-Luc Picard needed was a good, health 
mind-meld with a stern Vulcan, something to coo his emotions, and the 
depression that overwhelmed him since the lost of his ship. 
     "I'm sure they'll have valuable, and well trained personell waiting 
for you, when you get to your ship... whatever ship that may be." Will 
said.
     They did eventually go over the rosters before splitting up. Orders 
were orders, Will thought. He had seen the orders, and knew what his 
captain would be doing on this mission, not much, he told himself. A few 
hours later, he and Data had arrived at Utopia Planitia, just in time to 
watch them install the warp core from the command location in the 
enormous station.

			 ***  ***  ***

       "Well, doctor," Garak said, leaning over the table of virtually 
untouched food, "What have you heard?"
       "I don't know what you're talking about, Garak." Doctor Bashir 
said from across the table. He noticed that Garak was prying into the 
business of StarFleet a little more than usual. But, what did that 
matter, everyone knew he was a spy. Wasn't he?
       "Oh, come now, Doctor... We both know that StarFleet is sending 
ships both here and into the Romulan Neutral Zone, I just wanted to know 
why." plain and simple Garak said, "You know...curious and all."
       "Garak, I do know why. I just can't say."Bashir said, looking 
across the table at the Cardassian he ate lunch with at least one a week. 
Garak made as if he was going to leave, but stopped when he heard Bashir 
take a deep breathe, something the good doctor did right before he gave 
up information. And he did it every time, "Well, Garak, you know it's not 
really secret information...But it seems the Borg have attacked the 
Romulans and the Dominion, and they aren't giving an inch to either."
      So, Garak thought, it is true. The ROmulan went to the Federation 
for assistance. They must be getting weak. "Why did the Romulans come to 
the Federation, and not try the Klingons? They are closer you know..."
      "Garak, the Romulans did go to the Klingons...and they turned them 
down" Bashir said, wondering why they would do such a thing.
      "You know, Doctor, you know why they turned them down?" Garak 
asked, looking down at his glass, then up to see Bashir shake his head, 
no. "I'll tell you why. The Klingons are most likely hoping that the 
Federation does help the Romulans, then when the Federation leaves, when 
the Borg are killed...then the Klingons will swoop down and conquer the 
weakened Romulan empire..."


	 CHAPTER  SIX


       "Stand by on aft thrusters,"Riker said. His ship was complete, 
crew and all. He just felt, he felt lonely not having Jean-Luc there. But 
life would go on, besides he would see him soon enough. 
      "Aye, sir. Thrusters on stand-by" said Ensign Perez, he seemed a 
little jumpy, but who wouldn't. THey were taking a ship straight from the 
yard into battle, and just any battle, but battle with the Borg. 
Something they all feared, and rightly so.
       "Commander Data, inform Flight Control we are ready for 
departure." Riker commanded. He enjoyed taking ships from Space Dock, 
there was just something magical in it, no matter how many times they did 
it. But this was different, there were different rules for taking ships 
of these yards.
       "Flight Control says, Enforcer is granted departure." Data said 
from the helm console. Once they were to get into Romulan space, he would 
transfer weapons control to his console, as well as taking care of the 
helm controls.
      "Very well, Mr. Data. Ensign, full power to the aft thrusters" and 
the great ship jolted, then steadied, working her way out in reverse. 
      "Sir, we are clear of Utopia Planitia." 
      "Okay, Ensign, set course for the Romulan Neutral Zone. We are to 
wait at Golondon 'Cor, for the rest of the task Force...minus Captain 
Picard. His ship will be joining us later." Riker said, spilling the 
beans early, who could blaim him? No game of twenty questions to play 
later, "Full impulse." he said
       "Once we are out of the system, take us warp, Mr. Data." Riker 
said as he stood to leave. "You have the con, I'll be in my quarters.". 
Someplace he feared that wouldn't be his for long. His ship shuddered 
slightly, almost like a slow humming vibration, beneath his feet. 
SOmething that wasn't felt on the decks of the Galaxy class starship he 
served on for eight years.
	But now he had a command, the newest ship in the fleet, the most 
power ship going in the task force, his ship, his crew: things to be 
reckoned with. Watch out Borg, he thought in the 'lift on his way down to 
his quarters, here comes Will and the Enforcer. WHat a name, he thought, it 
almost made him shake in his own boots, the ship better live up to it.


	  CHAPTER  SEVEN


       "Task Force Alpha has begun to take shape in orbit above Golondin 
'Cor, Admiral." the officer said, troubled by the fact that most of those 
on the ships in the task force weren't going to be coming home.
       "Inform the Fleet Museum that that warp core is ready to be lifted 
in," Admiral Necheyev said back to the young Bolian officer. She had full 
control of every aspect of the mission, and her own fate, the reason she 
decided to stay behind and let Jean-Luc take it. He really doesn't like 
me, she thought, Good, all the better.
	And she meant it.
	"Aye, Admiral. Transmitting message, now.".

			  ***   ***   ***

	Ben Sisko slid down the back of the couch, he was exhausted by 
the drills and inspections he had given, by StarFleet order of course. 
These are dangerous times, he thought, and everyone in danger, here, is 
my responciblity. Damn.
	The chiming of the door brought Sisko back to reality, from the 
dreamy state he had been sliding into. Damn, he thought. "Yes," he said, 
"Come."
	The door slid open, in the light of the hall was silloquetted a 
tall, bulky figure that the commander didn't recognize. He couldn't see a 
face. "Commander Sisko?"
	"Yes, what can I do for you?" was all he could say. There was no 
worry of possible attack, he had Odo issue a secret officer to each 
person on the station that seemed even remotely sispicious. He sat up a 
little straighter, but made no move toward the individual.
	"Commander...I have some information you may need..." the 
individual said in a raspy tone. He was obviously using something to 
disguise his voice, and doing a damned good job at it too.
	"And what might that be?" Ben asked. This is getting interesting, 
he thought. And here I am half a sleep, and barely paying attention.
	"It has become known to those on 'the other side' that the Borg 
and Jem'Hadar are pulling their forces together to come and conquer the 
Alpha Quadrant." the large person said, being sure to keep the lights to 
his back and in the commanders eyes.
	"That hardly sounds like the Borg, to me."
	"All I can say, is that it is...true. The Founders came to an 
agreement to let the Alpha Quadrant be completely assimilated by the 
Borg, if they would agree to leave the worlds of the Dominion alone." the 
figure said. "I'm sorry, Commander, but it seems you're the first line of 
defense for the Federation, for when they do come."
	"Who are you?" Sisko asked, knowing he wasn't going to get an 
answer. I need to rattle the guy a little, he thought, but just keep him 
here. At least until someone passes in the corridor, he thought.
	"I'm sorry." and the figure dissappeared, he just dissappeared as 
if beamed off the station, but without the effect. Gone.
	Damn.

		 ***   ***   ***   ***  ***

	"No, sir, no one beamed off the station at that time. No, none." 
O'Brien told him. Sisko had dragged himself up to Ops., he needed to find 
out who the mysterious person was, and most importantly if what the man 
said was true. 
	"Okay...well, look, I know what I saw," Ben Sisko said, worried 
and irritated. Damn, he thought, why couldn't he wait 'til morning.
	"I find it hard to believe that someone appeared in your doorway, 
then just dissappeared." the Constable said. Odo was not happy with all 
of the StarFleet personnel that had been arriving on the station. There 
seemed to be twice as many in those uniforms, than there ever was in 
Cardassian chest plates. 
	"Dax, contact StarFleet HeadQuarters" Sisko ordered, "I want to 
talk to someone. When you get them, pipe it through to my office."
	"Understood, Commander."


	     CHAPTER EIGHT


       The ship slowly moved forward, the first time her impulse engines 
had tasted the hydrogen gas for fusion in almost seventy years. A new 
warp core, upgraded weapons and shields, newer, better sensors, that's 
all she needed to be brought into the twenty-fourth century. Just because 
somethings old, that doesn't mean you throw it away. 
       Sitting at the helm console was a young cadet straight out of the 
academy, obviously a history major. Seated at the communications console, 
directly behind the center seat, was a large, burly Klingon officer. He 
would be most likely the first, and the last, Klingon to ever serve as an 
officer on board a Constitution Class vessel. When this ship was built, 
his people were at war with the Federation, something he was not quick to 
forget. 
       Seated in the center seat was Captain Jean-Luc Picard.
       "Mr. Worf, contact Utopia Planitia, give them our ETA and explain 
that they don't have much time to install the Warp Drive." Picard said, 
spinning the large, bulky, underpadded chair, around a full hundred and 
eighty degrees. Why couldn't they make them like this, he thought, it 
would be so much easier than standing to talk to someone behind me. But 
then, Picard realized, I don't have a ship anymore. 
      "Aye, sir" Worf said from the undersized chair that was constructed 
for obviously smaller people, in a different era. "They could have 
upgraded these systems, if  they wanted to make this mission easy." he 
mumbled.
      The consoles, except for the helm, had been untampered, the same 
switch boards, the same overhead monitors, the same damned blinking 
lights, gave the bridge of the USS Exeter the same feel it always had.
"Mr. Worf, this vessel is an antique...be proud to just be aboard,"Picard 
said turning back to the smaller than expected Main View Screen.
       Worf nodded, then set to making the call to Mars.
       "Sir, we are clear of the Museum, course heading, sir?" the young, 
red-headed officer said, from the helm. His eyes were lit, as if he had 
made a great discovery, a feeling that Picard had felt years earlier.
       "Ensign Topper, best speed to Utopia Planitia." Picard said, as he 
stood to leave the confines of the drastically small bridge. Damn, he 
thought, no ready room. "Oh, Mr. Worf, make sure that our Chief Engineer 
is ready, and on time, when we get to the Yard." he said turning his 
attention back to his security/communications/weapons chief. A nod from 
Worf, and Picard entered the sole turbolift that led to and from the 
bridge. 
       He grasped the thick handle, "Level Four" he said to no one. This 
mission was difinitely becoming interesting. He was the greatest starship 
captain of the twenty-fourth century, on his way to lead a task force 
against the Borg, in Romulan space, in a hundred year old starship. I 
don't belong in the seat, he thought, Kirk does. This was his kind of 
ship, not mine. Why, he thought to himself. 
      The doors swooched open to the fourth level of the saucer, an 
angular hallway stretched out before him. At least I'll have a little of 
an advantage, he thought, but one like Jim Kirk would. I'll have to 
manage, if I want to survive, if we're all going to survive.


	  CHAPTER NINE


     "Commander Sisko, there is nothing we can say on the situation. It 
does appear that the Borg are making a move in the Gamma Quadrant, but 
that be no means...means that the Borg are coming through." the Andorian 
Admiral said, leaning forward close to the view screen. He was agitated, 
irritated that Sisko had found out something he wasn't supposed to know. 
Now all he could do for the time, is deny that anything was taking place.
      "Then, why, Admiral,"Sisko began, " is StarFleet sending six 
starships to this sector?". Sisko was eager to hear the explanation for 
this one. He found it hard to believe what he was being told by his 
superior officer, compared to what a vanishing person had said only an 
hour earlier in his doorway.
       "Three of the ships are for protection against the Marquis, they 
are : the Avenger, the Revere, and the Voyager. "the Admiral said. His 
command pips/pin sparkling in the lights that lit his office. They also 
happened to light up the droplets of sweat that were forming on his blue 
brow.
       "And what of the other three...if I may ask, sir" Ben Sisko asked, 
hestitating a bit, not wanting to make the admiral made. I don't even 
remember, he thought, his name. Damn.
       "Commander, you tread a very thin line," the Andorian said, his 
slit like mouth turning slightly downward. "The other three are coming to 
survey the area around the wormhole better than before..." then the 
transmission started to break-up, just a little static at first, but then 
it worsened to the point that Sisko could no longer make out the face or 
the voice. Damn, he thought.
       Slapping his communicator, "Dax, what's happening...the 
transmission from StarBase 312 has broken up." he shouted, the static 
still loud in the background.
       Over the comm channel, he heard Dax, "Ben, it's being jammed at 
StarBase 312. There's nothing we can do." 
       Sisko thought about that one, what was going on, who does the 
Admiral think he's fooling, Sisko thought, he already told me that the 
Borg were coming, just not when. He's hiding something, he's hiding 
something big, he thought. "Dax, send Priority One Message to StarFleet 
Command HeadQuarters... on Earth.".
       "Ready when you are, Ben" she said. But Ben had to think, what 
exactly was he going to say, that the admiral at StarBase 312...what was 
his name? T'Well? T'Welz? that's it... that Admiral T'Welz at StarBase 
312 was keeping vital information from him? that the Admiral was faking a 
jammed transmission, so not to give out that information? He thouht, I'll 
them the truth, I'll tell them about the mysterious man, and the Admiral, 
and the ships that are being sent out here, and the fact that I believe 
the man about the Borg and the Jem'Hadar. Damn, he thought, this is 
turning out to be one hell of a week.

			  ***  ***  *** ***

      "Captain to the bridge, Captain to the bridge" Worf called over the 
PA. He had had trouble with his communicator, something about the new 
design, they never seemed to work right when they brung out new ones. And 
that went with these as well. He was forced with doing it the way they 
did it when this ship was originally in service. 
      Picard was already on his way to the bridge when Worf's booming 
voice filled the corridor. He walked out to the little comm station on 
the wall as he waited for a 'lift to stop at this deck. He realized 
things were going to be slower, the ship was slower, but there were good 
enough reasons for it. He punched the little white knob in with the side 
of his hand and spke into the speaker, "Ackowledged, Mr. Worf. I'm on my 
way."
     Once Picard got to the bridge and settled down into the center seat, 
he began giving orders on approach to Utopia Planitia, the largest ship 
building station in the Federation, also known as "the Yard". It took 
five minutes for them to get it right, but eventually the ship docked and 
was ready for the transfer of the new, twenty-fourth century warp drive, 
into the century old ship. After the ship had been steadied, and the 
gravitational moorings had locked, it was up to the "Yard Crew" to finish 
the job. Only one problem remained, the Chief Engineer hadn't shown up 
yet. And he was the only one who knew exactly how to calibrate and set 
the engines to working order, something that would need to be done before 
they went anywhere. 
      Two hours passed and still there was no word on where the ChEng was 
at, another two hours and the warp core would be completely installed. 
The Chief had two hours to show, then he was going to have to face the 
wrath of Admiral Necheyev, alongside Picard. Time moved so slow on ships 
that aren't going anywhere, Picard thought, especially when the ship is 
waiting for a single individual.
      Who finally showed up, forty minutes before the scheduled departure 
time. It had better be enough time, he better have a damned good excuse 
for being so late, Picard thought, leaving the bridge for the transprter 
room.

			 ***  ***  ***

      "Commander Sisko," Admiral S'Tral, a Vulcan,said," The mysterious 
individual that you speak of was one of the Founders who we have been 
taking since he defected from the Gamma Quadrant three weeks ago." His 
stern, loud voice showed no sign of emotion, and he seemed to be at ease 
giving out information that Admiral T'Welz of StarBase 312 had been 
reluctant to tell.
      "One of the Founders. A Changling, you mean?" Sisko was stunned, he 
had felt like a little chill start at the bottom of his spine and work 
its' cold sweaty way up his back. He didn't know what caused it, the 
Admirals voice, or the facts he had just heard.
      "That is what I said, Commander."
      "So it's true?" Sisko asked, then paused and studdered to ask a 
follow-up, " The Borg and the Jem'Hadar?"
      "That seems to be the case. Intelligence indicates that the 
Jem'Hadar are adding 'Phasing/ Cloaking Devices" to their ships as well. 
StarFleet knows of only one culture that has successfully been able to 
construct such devices: the Romulans" the Vulcan said, looking to 
something off screen, then back again, " Which means that the Borg have 
successfully assimilated someone from inside the Romulan science 
devision. The conclusion that the information passed from the Romulans to 
the BOrg to the Jem'Hadar is the only logical explanation." He was quite 
a stirring individual, Sisko thought, he's so calm and collective it's 
almost scarry.
       Sisko was silent for a moment, then decided to go ahead with the 
origianl question, "And those are the reasons for the ships?"
       "That is also correct, Commander." The Vulcan must have 
accomplished Kol'Hinnar, to be able to be... detached, Sisko thought. 
Bringing him back to reality, "Of course, StarFleet had given the order 
for the Voyager to assist you in the continuing problems of the Marquis a 
few months ago. It just so happened that she will be arriving with the 
other ships."
       "I see."
       "Commander Sisko, I've been instructed to give you the following 
orders." he paused to read directly from something offscreen, or most 
likely directly from memory, " To Commander, Deep Space Nine : StarFleet 
has come to the decision to evacuate all non-essential personal from the 
station. The Avenger, the Revere, the Voyager, the Houston, the Bounty, 
and the Quebec: will be given top priority at Deep Space Nine. You are to 
be their homebase. Orders will arrive with Captain Janeway, of the USS 
Voyager. Captain Janeway is in command of this mission, now named Task 
Force Beta. Thank you, StarFleet Command, General Defense Council, San 
Fransisco, Earth." He looked up and into the screen.
	"Understood, Admiral." Sisko's head was swirling, he needed 
sleep. At least the 'Task Force' as they were calling it wouldn't arrive 
for two more days.
	"Admiral S'Tral, StarFleet Command. Out." The screen went blue 
with the background of the Federation.


	     CHAPTER TEN


      The transporter effect was finally leaving, the Chief Engineer had 
arrived. There was a time when he thought that the transprters on these 
ships were the fastest in the galaxy, now they were the slowest.
      Standing in front of the console was Captain Picard, standing 
straight and tall, at least as tall as he could. Behind him, a young 
Vulcan woman worked the console. Once the dazzling effects of the 
transporter left, Picard stepped forward, reaching a hand out to his new 
arrival," Captain Scott, how nice it is to see you again," was his 
standard opening line when someone beamed aboard his ship. 
      Captain Montegomery Scott stood for a moment looking around the 
comforting confines of the main transporter room; a room he hadn't seen 
look this nice in almost a century (if you count the time in the 
transporter of the Janolin.). His gaze finally settled on Jean-Luc 
Picard, standing in front of him, "Captain, permission to come aboard?" 
he asked, almost just for nastalagas sake alone.
      "Permission granted." Picard answered. He smiled broadly at the 
hefty Scot who seemed to shine with joy. But they had to get down to 
business, this was a war they were going to fight. Wasn't it? As the 
former Captain of the Engineering aboard the original Enterprise came 
down off the padd, Picard said, " Sir, we really do have a lot of work to 
do. First, you need to get into uniform. Second, the warp engines need 
calibrated and started up."
      Scottie looked down at his feet, losing that sense of 
happiness," Aye, sir. Tha's what took me so long. Ah couldna find me 
uniform." But then he held up the bag he had brung on, "I found it though."
      "Good, Captain. Then let's get to work. We have fourty minutes to 
get out of here," Picard said, meaning that the ruining of the schedule 
would cause a hassle for the rest of the Task Force, and for them when 
Admiral Necheyev finds out.
       Mr. Scott looked him in the eye and told what he knew to be a bold 
faced lie, "Sir, it'll take a' least a' hour ta get to engines warmed 
up." He knew that he could do it in less than thirty minutes, but he told 
Picard that, then how could he make a reputation in the twenty-fourth 
century as being a 'Miracle Worker'.
      Two minutes later Scottie was in engineering beginning to get the 
new engines on line. This is what he missed, this time it was real. He 
thanked the gods that StarFleet had come to him, a retired old man, for 
this particular job. Hello ma babies, he thought when he looked at the  back 
of the ship at the different, yet similiar parts to ones he had warmed up 
on a hundred years before.

			   ***  *** ***

       "Two days out of Deep Space Nine, sir,"the first officer of the 
USS Voyager said. His name was Chakotay, a native of a world other than 
the one his ancestors came from. Chakotay was the first of the native 
americans from off world colonies to finally join StarFleet. A tall, dark 
skins man who seemed to take control, when his captain failed to give 
commands. The single thing that drew most of the crew to ask him 
questions about his long lived culture, was the pin striped tattoo that  
took up much of the left side of his forehead.
       "Very good, Commander," the captain of the satrship Voyager said 
from her commander chair, still the center seat. Captain Kathrine Janeway 
was finally in command of a descent starship, though she would never 
complain about anyother command she ever had. "Alert the other ships that 
we will be doing another warp core breach drill in about an hour. Perhaps 
they should do their own?" she said, more question than statement, though 
she had complete authority over the six ships, seven ships very soon.
       "Tuvok, I want security posted on the bridge and outside the 
observation lounge at all times, starting now." Janeway said. She knew 
the complete story of what was going down in the Gamma Quadrant, 
evidently the Federation had someone on the inside with the Dominion. She 
also knew the mission they had been assigned, the new mission that is. 
She thought the Marquis would be put on hold, at least until this Borg 
and Jem'Hadar situation cleared up.
       "Captain, this is a StarFleet vessel. I find it illogical to post 
guards on a ship that all have sworn to protect." the dark skinned vulcan 
said. His dark, thin sharp moving around so to see the woman he was 
speaking to.
	"I realize that everyone has taken an oath to serve the 
Federation, Tuvok, but not everyone on this ship is quite so honest and 
logical as you are." she said, looking up at the greenblooded, pointy 
eared alien.
	"Understood, sir." he said.
	Time passes so slow when you have secrets to tell, Kathy Janeway 
thought to herself, I need to get the Captains of the other ships 
together with that commander of DS9 to go over strategies. Sisko, that's 
it, Commander Sisko...his wife died at the Wolf 359 at the hands of the 
Borg. 
	"I'll be in my quarters," She said, standing and heading for the 
'lift,"Alert me when the drill is about to begin. You have the conn, Mr. 
Chakotay." And she left.

		       ***  ***  ***  ***  ***

	 The large metallic crates had been beamed into the storage area, 
an area that had once been known to station dwellers as "The Pit". Two 
hundred of the large objects were neatly stacked leaving a path, a 
walkway, straight down the center of the room. The large doors that led 
to this room had been built to keep people in, hundreds of people. In one 
hundred and ninety-nine of the cases were slabs of Klingon goo, known 
Qua'Kla. In the two hundredth box, was an explosive device. A device that 
have made it past the sensors and scans of the freighter that brought 
them here, of the station, and of the transporter that beamed them here. 
It was of a technology not even O'Brien could guess, but when Quark had 
openned the case, he guessed that the Klingons had planted it. Thus, it 
had to be Klingon. 
	"What should we do with it, Commander?" O'Brien asked, looking 
down into the dark box at the little object, no larger than tricorder.
	"Can you disarm it?"
	"I don't know, sir."
	"Then don't bother, just get it off my station...get it as far 
away from here as possible." Sisko said looking down into the crate, he 
angered at Quark for bringing the stuff on board, he was angry at himself 
for agreeing to let Quark bring on, and he was angry at StarFleet for not 
telling him everything.
	"I'll see what I can do, Sir." O'Brien said.
	Standing back, away from them was Quark, "Now wait a minute, I 
paid for two hundred cases, not a hundred and ninety-nine. I want that." 
	"Quark, If you say one more word, you're going where ever Chief 
O'Brien takes that thing...and you're staying with it. Get it?" Sisko 
exclaimed. He was not in a good mood.
	"Ah...ah...uh...Okay, commander." and with that Quark left 
running out of the door, and back to his bar, his prize possession.
	Sisko didn't have a clue what O'Brien was going to do with the 
thing, so he asked and was replied with, "I'll take a runabout through 
the wormhole, and leave it on the otherside.". O'Brien thought himself a 
genuis for the answer.
       "Just be careful, Chief." 


		CHAPTER ELEVEN


      The bridge filled with the acrid smell of burning flesh and control 
boards.  No one was left at their stations when the sudden jerk of a 
exploding photon torpedo nailed the ship. The smell made some of the 
bridge crew feel sick, and others were blinded by the black smoke that 
was finally being vented. The ship had taken the worst beating in its 
long career in the 'Fleet. Picard was hunched over the command chair, 
Worf was lying unconscious near the turbolift doors, the helmsman and 
navigator were both already dead. The alarms had sounded and the hull 
snapped in two, floating, drifting endlessly through the rubble of a 
dozen  other ships. All hands were lost. 
     "Captain Picard to the bridge, Captain Picard to the bridge," the 
voice of Worf came booming over th e loudspeaker in his cabin. Jean-Luc 
Picard sat straight up, half afraid of what he had been dreaming about, 
and half afraid of what Worf wanted.
      Two minutes later, Picard walked onto the bridge, a bridge he still 
wasn't ready for, a bridge that he felt wasn't his. He stumbled over to 
Worf, at the communications console, still  unsure of the ship and 
himself. He was scared of what he had been thinking of back home, or what 
he used to call home, and what he had become, a tired, old man.
      "Yes, Mr. Worf?" he asked the Klingon. It was almost comical to see 
the large man sitting in a chair made for someone other than himself, 
someone half his side, someone most likely gentler than he. 
       The Klingon  looked up, Picard could almost see the humilation of 
what he was doing and where he was stationed in his face, and replied, 
"Captain Scott informs us that the engines are ready when you are."
	Wow, Picard thought, he said it would take an hour. And how long 
did it take, a half hour, he thought, damn he is good. "Bridge to 
Engineering."
	"Scott here."
	"Mr. Scott, I'm told the engines are almost ready."
	"Aye, sir. One more test an' the' all yours."
	"Let's know when you're ready, Captain Scott." Picard said, 
closing the channel. He moved down around the bright red handrail and 
over to the center seat. Relaxing down into the padded chair, he crossed 
his legs and spoke to the helmsman,"Helm, what is our current course and 
speed?"
	"Sir, we are on a heading to Golondin 'Cor, speed full impulse. 
We will reach our systems Oort cloud in fifteen minutes." Ensign Topper 
said, facing the Main Viewscreen. He had loved to use the holosuites at 
the Acedemy to fool around with starships of the early periods.  But he 
never thought he would actually get the chance to be aboard a ship like 
this, never in a million years.  His reference to the systems Oort cloud 
was only that a refence, it made no difference of when they could go to warp.
	"Very good, Ensign." Picard said, leaning back in the great 
chair. He swiveled to look at the Bolian at the Science Library station 
to his right. "And you are?..." he asked, the Bolian had been watching 
Picard since he stepped foot on the bridge. Picard had felt foolish 
having to ask such questions, but he hadn't had time to look over a 
complete crew roster. All he knew was that this ship had four hundred or 
so regular crew when they used to on duty, but for this mission the 
Exeter would carry less than two hundred and fifty personnel.
	" Ensign Yalla, Sir!" the bald-headed Bolian said, sitting 
straight up at his station. He was obviously a green cadet, never having 
served on a starship before. A green bolian, a green bluey, Picard 
thought, almost chuckling aloud.
	"At ease, Ensign," Picard said, hearing Worf make a little 
snickering sound behind him. He swiveled to look at the Klingon, at the 
moment the comm link to Engineering clicked back on.
	"Engineering to the Bridge," Scott said.
	Picard punched the little red button on the right hand console of 
the chair,"Bridge here, go ahead."
	"Warp engines are ready, sir."
	"A true miracle worker, Mr. Scott" Picard said, remembering the 
records he had read about Montegomery Scott and his former Captains' 
nickname for the Scot.
	"We're ready for warp speed when you are Captain Kirk...uh..uh..
.AH mean, Captain Picard." Scottie said, stumbling over his words, his 
mistakes, his still grieving heart. He knew he had lost more than a ship, 
more than a starship captain, but also a friend for the second time. 
	"That's quite alright Mr. Scott." Picard said, truly meaning it.
	"Oh, and Captain, call me 'Scottie'. Tha' what Ah like." his 
accent getting thick and hard to understand, like it always did when he 
was pain.
	"Okay, Scottie. Picard Out." he said, turning back to the 
viewscreen, seeing only stars out there, but feeling more grief for the 
greatest starship captain that died a cruel, and unjust death only a 
month before. A death he could feel hurt Scottie as much as the death of 
his family had hurt him, only that Scottie would have to feel it for the 
second time.
	"Hold course, helm. Warp Seven."
	"Aye, sir. Ready for warp factor seven." the young redhead said.
	Standing up and making a small pointing gesture to the screen, 
something that Worf had seen countless times before.
	"Engage."

		      *** *** *** *** *** ***

	"Well, Will, what are supposed to do? Just wait here?" the Chieg 
Medical Officer of the USS Enforcer said. Dr. Beverly Crusher had been 
assigned to what ever ship Picard was bringing, so that meant he was 
going to get stuck with whoever Command could spare. Fortunately it was 
someone he knew, Dr. Kate Pulaski. The last time they had spoke was only 
moments before she left the Enterprise to return to a post at the 
Acemady. She never really liked serving aboard starships anyway, besides 
Bev Crusher was much better at ship medicine than she was. 
	"Doctor, we are not waiting for Captain Picard, we are in the 
middle of a serious battle drill, so will you, please, just leave the 
bridge or be quiet until we're finished?" Captain Riker said from the 
center seat of his bridge. My bridge, he thought, I like the sound of 
that...My bridge.
       "Why are the damned drilling, we know this is suicide?" she 
breathed, leaving the bridge, stomping her way out,"This is the dumbest 
assed thing I've ever let myself get talked into!" She knew as well as he 
did, that they didn't get along. But he had no word in the matter, all 
came to him from above.
	 Captain William T. Riker didn't have the time to run after a 
doctor to make up, he had a ship to run, and a battle drill to conduct. 
Damn, he thought turning his attention back to the screen. "Evassive 
manuever : Riker Zeta Tau Six!" he screamed over the klaxons that began 
to sound the closeness of death, a fake death, but still a shakingly real 
expereince he hoped he wouldn't have to go through on this mission.
      "Too late, Captain. The Warp Core breached two point three seconds 
before your command. The Enforcer has been destroyed." Data said, with 
little unexpected emotion from his helm console. He turned to look at the 
captain of the vessel, his freind for eight years, Will Riker.
      But Will had slumped down into the padds of the center seat. He was 
drifting elsewhere, someplace Data couldn't go, even with his damned 
emotion chip. Damn, he thought, maybe she's right, Maybe this is crazy. 
Hell, he thought, maybe the Borg are right.
       Maybe Resistance is Futile.


	     CHAPTER TWELVE

       
      "Voyager to Space Station Deep Space Nine, come in please." 
      "Deep Space Nine here, go ahead Voyager." Jadzia Dax said, looking 
down at the half empty cup of coffee she had sitting on her console. She 
didn't like being to the comm officer too much, and it was quite funny 
how it showed through, a slight scowl on her beautiful face.
      "Deep Space Nine, Task Force Beta requesting permission to dock," 
the feminine voice said, no face to match; only an audio transmission. 
Ah, Jadzia thought, this must be our fearless leader, Captain Kate 
Janeway. 
      "Voyager, please stand by..." She said, turning to head up the 
stairs to Sisko's office. Dax had noticed the past two days that Ben 
Sisko had hidden himself in his office, only leaving to go to his cabin. 
She wondered why the commander hadn't been overlooking the evacuation 
process as he should have been. 
      As Jadzia reached the steps to ascend to the closed off office, she 
noticed Sisko already standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at 
her. She felt quite a bit frightened by the fact that she had almost run 
in to him; especially when she hadn't heard the familiar 'whooooosh' of 
the doors openning or closing. 
      "Captain Janeway,"Sisko said loud and clear, over shadowing the 
others in Ops., drowning out the voices of all the other StarFleet 
officers working their posts. He continued," this is Commander Benjamin 
Sisko, commanding officer of Deep Space Nine. It seems that your six 
starships are a bit too much of a strain on this station."
      "I see," was all they heard over the comm link. Moments pasted, 
Sisko felt himself feeling foolish for not picking up earlier, but when 
he go to speak he found himself cut off, "Then what do you propose we do, 
Commander."
      Ben Sisko felt as if he was being talked down to, something he was 
used to. Nonetheless, something he hated,"Perhaps two starships should 
patrol the area around the station and the wormhole...only letting them 
beam people over."
      "You make it sound, Commander, as if the evacuation of non-essen
tials is not yet complete." Her voice digging into his heart, paining him 
even to speak. He could tell this was starting off on the wrong foot, 
something that he didn't want to happen. Remember Admiral Necheyev, he 
thought.
       "That would be correct, Captain. We are having to 'bus' people to 
Bajor and surrounding worlds. It seemed to me that StarFleet didn't want 
a panic attack on their hands when they gave me the order to evacuate my 
station." Sisko replied to her informal question, placing emphasis on My, 
letting her know who was incharge of the station. Of course, he knew, 
that she had overall control of the mission at hand.
       "How long, Commander?" she asked, referring to the evac.
       "Two or three more hours." was his sole sentence.
       "We will dock three ships now," Janeway said," then once the 
evacuation is complete, another will dock. Two will keep an orbital 
pattern around the station at all time.". She was originally going to do 
it that way to begin with, but said nothing of that. She didn't want to 
upset the commander anyfurther than he already was.
	"My crew will handle the arrangements, Captain." Sisko said, 
taking a step back toward his office. He wanted to be secure in there, 
and to perhaps take a second to review this 'Captain Janeways' StarFleet 
file. Though he couldn't resist,"And welcome to Bajor, and Space Station 
Deep Space Nine." The usual greeting they gave tourists from anywhere 
outside the Alpha Quadrant.
	The comm link was broken, from shipside.

			 ****   *****  ****  ****

	 "Commander, we are cloaked..." the sub-centurion said from 
his post to the right of his commanding officer. The ship and its 
two sisters had arrived only moments before the Federation starships 
began their drills, awaiting their own commanding officer. 
	 The Warbird was an easy target for any ship that had 
weapons; it was twice the size of any known StarFleet vessel, and a 
match for three times the length of most of the ships in the 
Federation 'Task Force'. To that name, Tomalak, almost laughed. But 
he could if wanted, this was space and in space there is no sound, 
only light. And mass amounts of death, and darkness.
	"They're only going to get in the way," another sub-centurion
said from a console on Tomalak's left.  Obviously, the Commander 
thought, these children have no strategic value. Perhaps that's why 
they talk so much, and say so little.
	"All the better, child,"Tomalak said at last, he might as 
well explain it to them, "while the Federation ships get in the way, 
we can destroy the Borg invasion force with less loss of our own 
lives." It just didn't sound quite as ingenious in word as it did in 
thought and on paper. Ah, he thought, it matters not what they think 
or believe. So long as I know what I am to do.
	"So they are here to help us," the first officer said from a 
position behind the commander, monitoring the cloaking device. He was an 
awkward looking Romulan, thin yet extremely tall. Freak, Tomalak thought.
	"You fool, did you not listen in on the orders," Tomalak asked, 
as he stood and turned to face the Senior Centurion. A slight twitch 
formed around the corners of his mouth, he knew what the answer would be, 
he knew what he must do.
       "Yes, Commander. We...You are here to escort them to the front 
line, to fight the Borg. They are better at it than we, they have more 
experience. They are not worth the same number of Romulan lives." He 
answered, standing up straight as he could at his post.
       "So...you have read the orders?"
       "As I said, Yes, Commander Tomalak."
       "Traitor!" Tomalak bellowed, reaching down and taking his 
disruptor from its holster on his belt. Within a single second, he aimed 
and pulled the trigger, the officer disappeared in a brilliant flash of 
light. No longer did Tomalak's ship have a first officer. He reholstered 
the weapon and returned to his seat, to oversee (from secret) the 
Federation drills.
	"Get someone to that station," he said, disgusted that he was 
forced to kill his own first officer. "No one is to read the commanding 
officers orders, except for him! Understand?!" he yelled from his chair; 
a headache was setting in. He returned to thoughts of the mission and its 
outcome ahead, no more energy wasted on such things as possible spies.
	Once the Borg are gone, the Federation will be weaken by 
their loss of starships and then....
	Kill two birds, with one stone.


	  CHAPTER THIRTEEN


     "Admiral?" the Aide said entering the inner office of the Commander 
in Chief of Borg Operations (CINCBOP). Fortunately for the ensign, 
CINCBOP wasn't in. Too bad, she thought, I don't have to hear her spout 
about this and that today. But, unfortunately for the ensign, her 
encrypted file on the data wafer she held would most likely save hundreds 
of lives. Only she didn't know that.
      The young african female strolled into the office and laid the 
wafer down on top of the paper files that were scattered about the desks 
surface. She looked down and read the titles of some of the files: 
'Romulan Data: Borg Unreminting', 'Gamma Quad.: Battle Drills', and 'Borg 
& Jem'Hadar: Attack Emminent'. She noticed the stardates on all the files;
two weeks prior to this date. 
      The young officer looked up and out the windows that gave the most 
beautiful view of the Bay she had ever seen. She wondered what exactly 
those files meant, but too scared to look into them. Not even a peak, the 
admiral would know something had changed. Best to just leave the wafer 
and go, she thought exiting the room. Back to work, not another thought 
of what she had saw and read.
      She didn't know that the Admiral was withholding information that 
could have possibly saved thousands of lives in the next few weeks. 
Actually, no one knew, no one except the Commander in Chief of Borg 
Operations, Admiral Necheyev.

			 ***  ****  ****  ***

      "Time?" Picard said from the captains chair. He was finally getting 
used to the fact that this inky-dinky ship was going to be 'home' until 
the mission was over, no matter it's outcome. He looked down in front of 
him, two ensigns at their stations and a large display for them and him 
of the ships orientation. My god, he thought, this is pretty damned 
crude. How could Mr. Scott and the rest of StarFleet live on these 
vessels? 
      "Twelve minutes to Golondon 'Cor system, Captain," Ensign Topper 
said from his position at the helm console. He had worked both shifts, 
just to be able to be on the bridge, to be a party to history. He was now 
finally getting tired of it, tired of sitting in these outdated seats, he 
needed to get some sleep. Too bad he hadn't seen the beds yet, he would 
consider sleeping at his post.
       "Mr. Scott" he said, after punching the little red button on the 
right hand arm rest. He was kind of enjoying bing able to do things for 
himself, not having to rely on the computer for everything, independance 
is what they called it. 
      Scottie had just made it back to Engineering, he had slept his full 
eight hours like he hadn't slept in a century. It was the feeling of 
being home, of being where he belonged, on a Constitution Class starship.
He just didn't like the new, confounded warp drive system, it relied too 
heavily on the matter/anti-matter containment pods and not enough on the 
dilithium crystals.  He felt they weren't cheating enough out of the 
crystals, like he had done on the original Enterprise. He felt they were 
just wasting the matter/antimatter material and not savering every last 
bit of energy that was being channeled through the crystals. That's why 
they have so many problems with those damned warp core breaches, he thought.
Finally hearing the call and answering, "Scott here,".
      "Mr. Scott, readings up here show a drop in flow from the matter/
antimatter containment pods, any guess what's happened?" Picard said 
looking over to the Lt. seated at the Engineering Console, the one that 
had pointed out the drop in flow...about twenty minutes ago.
       "Aye,sir.."
       "Well, Mr. Scott?"
       Scottie hestitated to say anything, he knew what these twenty-
fourth century captains were like: don't touch anything, I don't care, 
it's my ship. Then he got around to blurting it out in an old drawn 
Scottish tone," Ah decided ta go ahead an' make a few changes to the warp 
drive... Ah think Ah make it better."
	"Mr. Scott, we are going into Romulan space in twenty minutes, we 
don't need any trouble from the warp drive." Picard said, he noticed the 
Lt. at the Engineering console look wide-eyed at the console, then turn 
to him.
       "Too late, Captain,"Scottie was saying,"Ah already made the 
changes...They should have started makin' a difference a minute ago." 
       "Aye, Sir," the Lt. at the Engineering console said, looking at 
Picard," It seems we now have a fourty percent jump in power availablity, 
thrity percent more power to the weapons, fifteen percent more power to 
the shields, and the flow from the containment pods has slowed to 
half...sir."
	"Good job, Mr. Scott." Picard was saying. He felt like kicking 
himself, and so he should. He was too much a twenty-fourth century 
captain, playing it by the book, never going out on the limb, never letting
anyone help unless they were on shoreleave or a weak mission. He was 
afraid of change, just as the Klingons and Federation had been ninety 
years earlier.
	"Aye, Captain. An' rememba' it's 'Scottie'." and the channel went 
dead. Even being out of the service for a few years, then being lost in a 
transporter on a Dyson Sphere, he still had it, he was still the 'Miracle 
Worker'.

			 ****  ****  ****  ****  ****

       "Captain Riker, we are being hailed...it's the Exeter," Lt. Rocha 
said from the communications post on the Enforcer. Rocha had served 
aboard the Enterprise, and was on duty in a science lab, researching the 
data she had collected on subspace fields and their subsequent effects on 
electromagnetic radiation as well as artificial magnetic fields.
       "Well,well,well...Hasn't Picard pulled the lucky straw,"Will Riker 
said from the center seat. He stood, pulled at what would had been the 
bottom of his tunic and said,"On screen, Lt.". 
       "Well, Captain Riker, are we enjoying our first taste of true 
command,"Picard said from his own center seat. Riker's bridge was the 
latest that StarFleet could do with existing technology, Picards on the 
other hand, was a throw back to a by-gone era, to a century long since 
forgotten (no matter how much he contended it wasn't, Riker constantly 
found himself on the losing side of that history battle). 
       "Sir, I wish it was under different circumstances,"Riker said, 
standing between the helm and navigation consoles of the Ambassador class 
starship he commanded. He really wished it was under different 
conditions, but so was the way of the world.
       "Will...it's only going to get worse,"Picard began, noticing a 
little red flashing light on the nav console. Now what does that mean? he 
thought. But instead continued,"We need you and the captains of the other 
fifteen vessels over here as soon as possible, say at oh-nine-hundred?"
	"Relaying message now, Captain,"Riker said. The screen went 
black, with little constant bits of light glowing in the distance. At the 
corner of the screen were sixteen tiny, growing dots of sparkling gray. 
His fleet.

		     ****  ****  ***** **** ****

	 When the vessel came to a relative stop in a high orbit around 
Golondin 'Cor, Tomalak gave his order, "Take us in, sub-centurion." 
	Two minutes later the cloaked ships were in a concentric ordit 
and keeping a great monitoring eye on all the vessels of their enemy. 
They were monitoring, and recording, all ship to ship, and intraship 
communications. All to be annalized later.  The Senior Centurion who 
happened to take the place of the now deceased first officer 
spoke "Commander, the commanders of all the enemy vessels have 
transported to the older ship, the twenty-third century one...Commander 
Tomalak."
	So, he thought, that's the ship they will be doing the work from. 
Of course, that's were Picard is. "Senior Centurion, decloak and hail the 
lead ship." 


		CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      
      "Captain!" Worf shouted, pointing to the main viewscreen, as Picard
was just entering the turbolift. The main conference room on level three
was already becoming packed with the commanding officers of 'Task Force
Alpha'. Picard could out of the corner of his left eye Worf throwing an 
arm toward the viewer. He spun on his heals, grabbing the door that began to 
shut on him. The mechanism that governed the working to the 'lift doors
slowly got the point and reopened them. Picard's eyes took the usual half
second to adjust to the difference is color and perception, but when they
did finally adjust; he saw what he was expecting he'd see: a Romulan 
Warbird decloaking and coming in toward them on a parabolic coarse. 
       But not one Warbird, but the standard three; all larger than life,
all four times the size of his vessel. Once the ships were on a parallel
orbital course, he noticed the abnormal amount for light they seemed to 
be reflecting from the planet below. Something that the computer and
viewscreen compensated for by dimming the view.
      "We are being hailed," Worf said. He was not calm, he was just Klingon, 
and that's the way they are; no good description in earth words could 
quite describe their intensity for the moment, with possibly a battle 
ready to take place. Picard thought otherwise.
      "On View..." he said. Slowly the viewscreen changed from the shape 
of three Warbirds and an obtruse planetoid, to that of an old enemy. Old
enemy? Picard thought, is that how they, how he thinks of me?
       "Ahhh, Captain Pee-card, how nice it is to see you again," Tomalak
said from the inlarged view of his head. The three dimentional components 
of the twenty-third century where not of the highest quality, Picard thought.
       "Commander Tomalak, you were to wait within the Neutral Zone until 
we contacted you,"Picard said, making his tone quite clear: he wasn't 
happy with the situation. He moved back to the center seat, sitting down 
he crossed his legs in a way that most humanoid men found uncomfortable. 
And arms crossed over his chest, in quite the defensive manner.
       "Please, understand, Captain Pee-card, we felt that if there was 
going to be a meeting of the minds of your laughable 'Task Force', 
perhaps we should come along,"Tomalak said, making his move on trying to 
get inside the Federation, to know exactly what they planned, "so to 
help you understand the current situation on the farside of the 
Romulan Empire..."
      Picard sat in his seat, listening to Tomalak ramble on about 
something or other, then made the decision that took everyone, including 
Tomalak by surprise," Commander Tomalak, it would indeed be beneficial to
 us all to have you at our conference... I'll have you beamed right over." 
      Worf sat stunned behind Picard, unable to utter a single objection to 
this plan, then Picard went on when he saw that Tomalak was almost on 
the floor with disbelief," Good thinking, Commander."
      A moment later the co-ordinates of Commander Tomalak where programmed 
into the hundred year old transporter, and the Romulan was on board.             
      Something the Romulan commander had not ever dreamed of: he was now 
going to sit in on a StarFleet combat readiness conference, without being 
accused of being a spy. Tomalak was thanking the gods (the gods that the 
Romulan government said existed) that he had a strong heart.

			     ****  ****  ****
	
       Picard walked into the already crowded conference room, with 
Tomalak trailing behind him. The fool had beamed over to the ship armed, 
and was quite irritated when it was taken from him. But that was not the 
least of Jean-Luc's worries: to see the faces of the other Captains when 
he entered with Tomalak, now that was worth the mass of this ship in 
platinum.
       "What's going on here, Picard?" was the only words spoken to the 
'Task Force' Commander. They came from Captain Edward Jellico, of the USS 
Cairo, a man most admired for his command abilities, yet most hated 
because of the way he got things done. The same was the case for Picard, 
he was polite to Jellico, but didn't really care for the man.
       "Ed, please." Jean-Luc said moving to his seat at the end of the 
table. This meeting had been planned from the beginning, so a new longer, 
standard conference table had been put in the place of the original. A 
loss to history; so was the price of freedom; so was the price of war. A 
war they really didn't have to fight at this time.
       Tomalak followed behind Picard to the front of the table, taking a 
stance to the right of the Captain. He would stand, all seats already 
taken, and no one willing to give up theirs for a Romulan. Picard spoke, 
quietting the low murmurring that was coming from the opposite end of the 
table," This is Romulan Commander Tomalak, he is the man in charge of the 
Romulan fleet that we will be assisting on this mission." 
      Tomalak made a slow deliberate nod to the commandering officers of 
the StarFleet ships, doing his best to seem in touch with the ways of the 
humans. Though only half of the seventeen commanding officers were 
actually human.
      "Okay, Captain, so what's this all about?" Will Riker said, sitting 
halfway down the righthand side of the marble-topped table. He was just 
as anxious to find out what they were going to be doing, exactly.
      Picard leaned forward, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, a 
small smile showing through anyway, and shot a glance back toward 
Tomalak. They knew what he meant, not everything until Tomalak has left.
"The Romulans have asked the Federation for assistance in defending the 
Beta Quadrant against the Borg..."
     "We know that much already," said a tight, mechanical voice, the 
voice of someone Picard didn't know. A Benzite, ugly blue guys who sucked 
down cold carbon dioxide to breath.
      "Well, you don't know everything," Tomalak said, looking at the odd 
alien with disgust. He felt sick just looking at the blue creature, 
obviously one inferior to him.
       "Commander Tomalak is going to explain it fully," Picard said, 
leaning back and looking up to the Romulan,"Aren't you, Commander?" 
Putting him on the spot.
       "If you insist, Captain,"Tomalak answered. He looked down, them 
began to gaze around the table at the individuals who were coming to his 
worlds, his empires, rescue. "A few months ago, we picked up evidence of 
the Borg, or whatever you call them. Anyway, we discovered through deep 
space missions toward the Delta Quadrant, that the Borg were indeed 
coming. And not with just one Cube."
       Ingorant Jellico cut him off,"Exactly how many did your sensors 
detect?".
       "Six Cubes, to be precise. Before they had a chance to get into 
our territory, we sent ships to destroy them. They failed."
       "Didn't they even get one of the bastards?" Jellico asked. He 
seemed to like to interupt people in the middle of their stories. Picard 
thought, Perhaps I should try to do the same to him sometime, so he sees 
what it's like. But Picard couldn't bring himself to be that rude, to anyone.
       "Captain, you test my patience," Tomalak said, looking down his 
thick, bony brow at the balding man at the opposite end of the table. 
Anyway," We lost nine Warbirds," which seemed to peak everyones 
attention, " and were only able to destroy two of the Cubes. But then 
they stopped, I believe they want us to come to them. Then when we are 
weak, they will slaughter our people."
       "The Borg don't slaughter, they assimilate." Riker said leaning 
back, understanding now what was going on and what was going to happen.
       Tomalak took the next half hour to explain where the Borg ships 
were, where they were heading, and how his people were going to defeat 
them. Tomalak was frightened by the fact that the Empire might fall, he 
just didn't know to who it would fall to, The Borg or the Federation.
He then went on to explain why the StarFleet vessels were coming along, 
and then said,"As seeing that the Federation is sending almost half of 
its' already depleted StarFleet to help us, we are sending an additional 
fifteen Warbirds and numerous other ships of war to defend ourselves."
It was more than one person who picked up the mention of how bad 
StarFleet was still aching, even five (or six) years after its' close 
annihilation to the Borg.
       The meeting ended with schedules and other plans being sent to the 
StarFleet ships, and Tomalak returning to his vessel. He noted that they 
had been generous enough to send him a copy of the schedule as well.
       It was in the schedule that he noted they were leaving orbit in 
less than two hours. It was he and his three ships that would lead them 
to a rendevue with the Romulan Fleet, before heading to the system the 
Borg now occupied.
       The Empire is going to fall, he thought, but to who? the 
Federation, or the Borg?


		CHAPTER FOURTEEN

      
      "Captain!" Worf shouted, pointing to the main viewscreen, as Picard
was just entering the turbolift. The main conference room on level three
was already becoming packed with the commanding officers of 'Task Force
Alpha'. Picard could out of the corner of his left eye Worf throwing an 
arm toward the viewer. He spun on his heals, grabbing the door that began to 
shut on him. The mechanism that governed the working to the 'lift doors
slowly got the point and reopened them. Picard's eyes took the usual half
second to adjust to the difference is color and perception, but when they
did finally adjust; he saw what he was expecting he'd see: a Romulan 
Warbird decloaking and coming in toward them on a parabolic coarse. 
       But not one Warbird, but the standard three; all larger than life,
all four times the size of his vessel. Once the ships were on a parallel
orbital course, he noticed the abnormal amount for light they seemed to 
be reflecting from the planet below. Something that the computer and
viewscreen compensated for by dimming the view.
      "We are being hailed," Worf said. He was not calm, he was just Klingon, 
and that's the way they are; no good description in earth words could 
quite describe their intensity for the moment, with possibly a battle 
ready to take place. Picard thought otherwise.
      "On View..." he said. Slowly the viewscreen changed from the shape 
of three Warbirds and an obtruse planetoid, to that of an old enemy. Old
enemy? Picard thought, is that how they, how he thinks of me?
       "Ahhh, Captain Pee-card, how nice it is to see you again," Tomalak
said from the inlarged view of his head. The three dimentional components 
of the twenty-third century where not of the highest quality, Picard thought.
       "Commander Tomalak, you were to wait within the Neutral Zone until 
we contacted you,"Picard said, making his tone quite clear: he wasn't 
happy with the situation. He moved back to the center seat, sitting down 
he crossed his legs in a way that most humanoid men found uncomfortable. 
And arms crossed over his chest, in quite the defensive manner.
       "Please, understand, Captain Pee-card, we felt that if there was 
going to be a meeting of the minds of your laughable 'Task Force', 
perhaps we should come along,"Tomalak said, making his move on trying to 
get inside the Federation, to know exactly what they planned, "so to 
help you understand the current situation on the farside of the 
Romulan Empire..."
      Picard sat in his seat, listening to Tomalak ramble on about 
something or other, then made the decision that took everyone, including 
Tomalak by surprise," Commander Tomalak, it would indeed be beneficial to
 us all to have you at our conference... I'll have you beamed right over." 
      Worf sat stunned behind Picard, unable to utter a single objection to 
this plan, then Picard went on when he saw that Tomalak was almost on 
the floor with disbelief," Good thinking, Commander."
      A moment later the co-ordinates of Commander Tomalak where programmed 
into the hundred year old transporter, and the Romulan was on board.             
      Something the Romulan commander had not ever dreamed of: he was now 
going to sit in on a StarFleet combat readiness conference, without being 
accused of being a spy. Tomalak was thanking the gods (the gods that the 
Romulan government said existed) that he had a strong heart.

			     ****  ****  ****
	
       Picard walked into the already crowded conference room, with 
Tomalak trailing behind him. The fool had beamed over to the ship armed, 
and was quite irritated when it was taken from him. But that was not the 
least of Jean-Luc's worries: to see the faces of the other Captains when 
he entered with Tomalak, now that was worth the mass of this ship in 
platinum.
       "What's going on here, Picard?" was the only words spoken to the 
'Task Force' Commander. They came from Captain Edward Jellico, of the USS 
Cairo, a man most admired for his command abilities, yet most hated 
because of the way he got things done. The same was the case for Picard, 
he was polite to Jellico, but didn't really care for the man.
       "Ed, please." Jean-Luc said moving to his seat at the end of the 
table. This meeting had been planned from the beginning, so a new longer, 
standard conference table had been put in the place of the original. A 
loss to history; so was the price of freedom; so was the price of war. A 
war they really didn't have to fight at this time.
       Tomalak followed behind Picard to the front of the table, taking a 
stance to the right of the Captain. He would stand, all seats already 
taken, and no one willing to give up theirs for a Romulan. Picard spoke, 
quietting the low murmurring that was coming from the opposite end of the 
table," This is Romulan Commander Tomalak, he is the man in charge of the 
Romulan fleet that we will be assisting on this mission." 
      Tomalak made a slow deliberate nod to the commandering officers of 
the StarFleet ships, doing his best to seem in touch with the ways of the 
humans. Though only half of the seventeen commanding officers were 
actually human.
      "Okay, Captain, so what's this all about?" Will Riker said, sitting 
halfway down the righthand side of the marble-topped table. He was just 
as anxious to find out what they were going to be doing, exactly.
      Picard leaned forward, cupping his hands in front of his mouth, a 
small smile showing through anyway, and shot a glance back toward 
Tomalak. They knew what he meant, not everything until Tomalak has left.
"The Romulans have asked the Federation for assistance in defending the 
Beta Quadrant against the Borg..."
     "We know that much already," said a tight, mechanical voice, the 
voice of someone Picard didn't know. A Benzite, ugly blue guys who sucked 
down cold carbon dioxide to breath.
      "Well, you don't know everything," Tomalak said, looking at the odd 
alien with disgust. He felt sick just looking at the blue creature, 
obviously one inferior to him.
       "Commander Tomalak is going to explain it fully," Picard said, 
leaning back and looking up to the Romulan,"Aren't you, Commander?" 
Putting him on the spot.
       "If you insist, Captain,"Tomalak answered. He looked down, them 
began to gaze around the table at the individuals who were coming to his 
worlds, his empires, rescue. "A few months ago, we picked up evidence of 
the Borg, or whatever you call them. Anyway, we discovered through deep 
space missions toward the Delta Quadrant, that the Borg were indeed 
coming. And not with just one Cube."
       Ingorant Jellico cut him off,"Exactly how many did your sensors 
detect?".
       "Six Cubes, to be precise. Before they had a chance to get into 
our territory, we sent ships to destroy them. They failed."
       "Didn't they even get one of the bastards?" Jellico asked. He 
seemed to like to interupt people in the middle of their stories. Picard 
thought, Perhaps I should try to do the same to him sometime, so he sees 
what it's like. But Picard couldn't bring himself to be that rude, to anyone.
       "Captain, you test my patience," Tomalak said, looking down his 
thick, bony brow at the balding man at the opposite end of the table. 
Anyway," We lost nine Warbirds," which seemed to peak everyones 
attention, " and were only able to destroy two of the Cubes. But then 
they stopped, I believe they want us to come to them. Then when we are 
weak, they will slaughter our people."
       "The Borg don't slaughter, they assimilate." Riker said leaning 
back, understanding now what was going on and what was going to happen.
       Tomalak took the next half hour to explain where the Borg ships 
were, where they were heading, and how his people were going to defeat 
them. Tomalak was frightened by the fact that the Empire might fall, he 
just didn't know to who it would fall to, The Borg or the Federation.
He then went on to explain why the StarFleet vessels were coming along, 
and then said,"As seeing that the Federation is sending almost half of 
its' already depleted StarFleet to help us, we are sending an additional 
fifteen Warbirds and numerous other ships of war to defend ourselves."
It was more than one person who picked up the mention of how bad 
StarFleet was still aching, even five (or six) years after its' close 
annihilation to the Borg.
       The meeting ended with schedules and other plans being sent to the 
StarFleet ships, and Tomalak returning to his vessel. He noted that they 
had been generous enough to send him a copy of the schedule as well.
       It was in the schedule that he noted they were leaving orbit in 
less than two hours. It was he and his three ships that would lead them 
to a rendevue with the Romulan Fleet, before heading to the system the 
Borg now occupied.
       The Empire is going to fall, he thought, but to who? the 
Federation, or the Borg?


	      CHAPTER FIFTEEN


     "Captain Janeway!" Kira shouted, but the woman kept going. She had 
come to Ops. looking for Sisko, and now was about to meet him, face to 
face. Around the outer ring of consoles on the upper level, then straight 
through the metal/glass double doors that led to his office. Sisko was 
sleeping on the couch off to the side of his desk, the hollering in the 
stations main operations center had awakened him. But not quick enough...
     "Commander Sisko, get up," she said, looking over the tall black 
human, "We need to talk." But when Sisko took the extra moment that he 
usually did to get up, she ordered,"Now."
     This is not the way it is supposed to be, he thought. "Captain, I've 
had the evacuation sped up, and now that it's complete, leave me be." He 
didn't like the tone of her voice, so Sisko felt it was time to show her 
what he could say.
      "Sisko, you didn't get rid of all of them." she said, meaning the non-
essentials that lived and toured the station. Who? he wondered, getting 
to his feet.
       "Who?"
       "I had that evil Ferengi that owns that bar down there shipped to 
Bajor, next one I find, goes in the brig." She moved over to his desk, 
"Understood?"
       "Yes, Captain." Both of their voices lost the hostility. Then she 
took a seat in front of the desk, Sisko sat opposite her: behind the 
desk. For him it reaffirmed the power that he had as station manager.
       "Orders from StarFleet Command are for you and your crew of the 
Defiant to move into the Gamma Quadrant for a short intelligence 
gathering mission, then to return back here." She said, looking...no, 
starring...into his eyes. Janeway tossed a small red tubular object on 
the table, a simple type of iso chip they used on this Cardassian built 
station. "The complete orders are there...as are the orders for a 
temparary 'field promotion' for you to Captain." She looked down and 
removed something from a pocket on her uniform, the four pip, the one 
that would make him Captain Ben Sisko. 
       She laid it on the desk, then turned to leave. Flinging her hair 
back, she said only,"Congrads.". And she left. The complete orders where 
on the chip that she gave Sisko.
       He and his crew, the crew of the Starship Defiant, were to leave 
as soon as the crew and ship were ready. It seemed that Janeway had 
complete control of everything, even the station and the Defiant...as 
soon as he returned from this 'intelligence mission' to the Gamma 
Quadrant. 
	An hour later, he and his crew were through the wormhole...cloaked.

			  **** ***** **** *****

       "Course, Captain?" the night watch helmsman asked. Everyone needs 
sleep, Picard thought, even I do.
       "Make course parallel to that of the Romulan Warbirds. When they 
leave, match warp speed for warp speed." he answered, swiveling one 
eighty to look at Worf, the only other officer who had decided to stay on 
until they were under way. But Worf wasn't in the tired mood that Picard 
was, he seemed angered about something, just no one knew what. "Mr. Worf, 
communications from other ships?"
       "All StarFleet vessels are prepared for warp speed...on your word, 
Captain," Worf said, actually wondering who was going to be the 
commanding officer on the remainder of gamma watch.
       Picard turned back to the viewscreen, crossed his legs in the way 
only he could, "Mr. Worf, hail the lead Romulan vessel." His voice was 
beginning to break, something to do with all the pressure he felt, to do 
with simply being tired.
	His eyes slid half shut, then darted back to full awareness when 
he realized the screen had changed from the planet to the unfamiliar 
interior of a Romulan Warbird. One familiar thing was there though, the 
inlarged face of Commander Tomalak, "You are finally ready, Captain?" he 
asked leaning a little more forward, into the screen, as he spoke.
	"We are, indeed, Commander,"Picard said, feeling the fatigue set 
in. He needed some sleep, at least a few hours, to be effective on the 
rest of the mission. "Whenever you are..."
	"Captain Pee-card, see you at the D'Loud system...we will 
coordinate there with my fleet." Tomalak said, a small smile forming at 
the corners of his mouth. Tomalak seemed almost eager to go to battle, as 
if he didn't fear the Borg anymore.
	He screen moved back to the planet and fleet, followed by the 
movement of three ships from orbit. The large Romulan battle ships jumped 
to warp at the first sign that the Federation fleet was moving out of orbit.
The Exeter took up a position in the middle of the StarFleet pack once 
they got to warp, easily keeping up with the newer, 'better' ships.
	"Entering Romulan Neutral Zone," the female computer voice said 
to all on the bridge, followed by the standard warning of treaty 
violation. Something that they didn't think the Romulans used when they 
made such 'mistakes'.
	The turbolift door slid open behind Picard, and out stepped two 
officers, one for communications, the second being the night watch 
commander. Lt. Barclay relieved Worf from his position, as Commander 
Deanna Troi stole the center seat from Picard. He didn't put up much of a 
fight.
	For the next seven hours nothing out of the expected happened, 
although it did seem odd to Troi that the Captain had slept that long. He 
finally arrived back on the bridge twenty minutes before they were to 
drop from warp for D'Loud orbit.  
	Now it was only a matter of hours, and a little coordination of 
efforts, before they would leave for the neighboring star system. A 
system the Romulans had been trying to the Borg of for weeks, a system 
that would take many more lives than those already lost.
	A system, a battle field, that Picard wasn't looking forward to 
move to. A system that Picard didn't want to be his resting place. A 
system that Picard had feared since he heard of its existence, or rather 
the existence of the 'lifeforms' that had control of it.
	Troi could feel the pain. She sensed every emotion that he was 
feeling, she knew everything that he feared. But those where the reasons 
for her being on this mission at all, to watch over the Captain, to be 
his consultant, to be his counselor. Not to be the commander of the night 
watch, that only came as 'luck' as some would call it, though she saw it 
differently.
	"Captain," she said, moving from the center seat. She stopped as 
he moved toward that chair, brushing shoulder to shoulder, so close that 
only they could hear each others' words," why not talk about it?"
	Even though the captain had the time, had the power, had the energy, 
he just didn't have the guts to speak that openly to her. And he didn't 
know exactly why, though it was a problem that had troubled him from the 
beginning of their relationship. Picard threw it away as being somehow 
related to the 'fear' of children he had, though this had to run much 
deeper. Even in his torture from the hands of the Cardassians a few years 
earlier, he had found himself just as frightened of talking to Deanna as 
he did being punished by the Cardassians.
	 "I think I have everything in control, Councelor" he said. A bold 
faced lie, one she knew to be a lie. In actuality Picard felt like 
quitting, giving up, too many problems, too many difficulties. He felt 
the universe revolving around him, as if the events before him were out 
of his control. And to his later dismay, he would find, that indeed 
things were out of his hands, out of his control. 
	  Picard would realize, though, that not all things, all events 
were out of control, only the large events were. And most things going on 
on this mission were ,indeed, quite large.


	      CHAPTER SIXTEEN


      "Coming up on last known position of the type one probe, Captain," 
Dax said from her science library console of to the side of the Defiants' 
bridge. Seated in the raised center chair was the newly promoted Captain 
Benjamin Sisko, and he didn't even like the sound of that. But he didn't 
know why. Most likely, he thought, because their going to take it away 
from me once this is over. Remember, Ben, it's only a 'field promotion', 
something StarFleet didn't mind handing out, so long as they got them back.
      Before leaving DS9, Captain Janeway (while in the process of moving 
a few things into Sisko's office, trying to make it her own) slipped 
Sisko the coordinates of a cloaked Federation prode that should still be 
recording data. Obviously they had seen something like this coming, and 
without saying a damned word of it to Sisko. He laughed inwardly at the 
idea of Janeway making his office, hers. As if he wouldn't throw her out 
on her ass, or at least get Odo to do it. Seeing that he is the Chief of 
Security.
      "Scan for the emissions of the probe, then transmit information 
transfer code,"Sisko said, legs crossed, arms crossed. Seated in front of 
him were to ensigns he didn't recognize, mostly everyone else he knew. 
Bashir was sitting at his station, uneasy, he didn't like the Gamma 
Quadrant all that much to begin with. Now they were going to deal with, 
not only the Dominion and the Jem'Hadar, but the Borg as well. He seemed, 
to Sisko, ready to pounce on the first mishap to shout that they were all 
going to die, and die for nothing. It was something Julian Bashir was not 
afraid of hiding: his fear, and the belief it was easier to close the 
wormhole forever than to deal with the Jem'Hadar (and now the Borg).
       "The probe has decloaked and is transmitting on a secure 
frequency, Benjamin." Jadzia Dax said. She was now standing at her 
station, watching over the monitors as the data screamed past each at a 
rate only a two distant androids could match.
       "And?" Sisko asked, moving toward the station. First they had to 
know whether there had been movement on this side of the wormhole, then 
their orders where quite specific : find the Borg, find the Jem'Hadar, 
find out how we can catch them by surprise.
       Only one thing stood in the way of those plans, Sisko had thought, 
and that is that the Borg can't be ambushed, they are machines: always 
ready to move, always ready to assimilate.
	"And..." Dax said, looking over her shoulder at him,"And this is 
going to take a while. I need to look over what ships came by here, 
then I need to see when they came by. After all that, we still have 
to calculate their course, bearing, and speed." She glanced back down 
at the screens, still flashing with the transfer of data at an 
incredible rate.
	"Helm," Sisko said, turning on his heals. He moved back up to the 
elevated captains chair, waiting for a responce from the officer.
	"Aye, sir?" the young officer said, looking back at his Captain 
with large, frightened, puppy-dog eyes.
	"Once the data scream is complete, decloak the ship...and destroy 
the probe." 
	"Aye, sir." he said, looking around Sisko at the Romulan officer 
standing toward the back of the ships' bridge. She nodded to him, 
understanding the orders, without having the captain speak to her. It 
was, officially, the helmsman's job to imform the Romulan of the 
captain's orders to decloak for something like this. But she had heard 
the captain, and understood. She didn't want to be told again.
	"All data has been transferred and the memory banks of the probe 
have been erased, Captain." Dax said looking around at the man in the 
center seat. 
       Sisko leaned a little forward, softly speaking to the man ten or 
so feet infront of him," That was cue, ensign." he said. Then he leaned 
back, noticing the lights brighten as power to th cloaking device was 
shut down. A light, very light, tingling sensation swept over his body, a 
comfortable feeling that he didn't mind. Something he hadn't noticed 
anyother time they cloaked/decloaked the ship.
       "Firing" the ensign said. A single bolt of phased energy, darted 
from somewhere underneath the position of the bridge, hit the tiny, 
almost unseeable probe. In a flash, the probe was turned into 
interstellar dust, nothing remaining. So was the power of this ship, this 
over-powered ship, that is.
       "Sir!" came the shout from the back of the bridge, from someone 
Sisko didn't recognize. He shot up, out of the chair, hearing the 
StarFleet officer say something like," Three large ships have just 
entered sensor range."
       Without thinking, SIsko throw out his arm, motioning to the 
ROmulan woman. She knew the command, the urgency of what might have been 
happening. From the emotion-full voice of the Romulan, the wrong 
emotions," We are cloaking." Then Sisko felt the soft wave envelope his 
entire body, but when he stopped (irresistably) to savor the feeling, it 
had passed. 
       "On screen," were the words he spoke, moving down to stand to side 
of the helm, looking intently on the screen. Though it didn't seem to 
shift, the stars of the universe beyond did seem to inlargen. Meaning on 
thing; that the ships, whoever they were, were heading on virtually a 
direct course for them. "Magnify, full power."
       The screen shifted slightly, the star got bigger and brighter, and 
three ships appeared at the edge of view, almost too far away to be seen 
even with subspace sensors. The three ships moved in a triangular 
pattern, on a direct course viry close to them. 
	It didn't take long for every person on the Defiant bridge to see 
that the three ships were  huge metallic cubes.
       
			   ****  ****  ****

	Docked at the large outer-ring pylons of Deep Space Nine were 
four StarFleet starships, two of them Ambassador class ships, one was the 
Voyager, the fourth was an Excelsior class vessel. In a stationary orbit 
around the station was a Soyuz class starship, not known for its speed 
or power; the Soyuz was the only ship available for this type mission. On 
its' way back from a drop of stow-aways on Bajor was the sixth ship of 
the so-called 'Task Force', another Excelsior class ship. 
	So it seems for more than fifty years, the Excelsior class, was 
the epitotomy of the StarFleet, it was the flag vessel of the 'Fleet. The 
ships were just that good, a design from the heavens, though the original 
plans called for 'Transwarp Drive'- a flop of the times.
	The StarFleet officers now ran the station, moving all personnel 
to the planet, anyone not StarFleet. Except for the few that worked 
aboard Sisko's Defiant, and of those only two were known by Janeway: Kira 
and the changling Odo. Two more losses, she thought, that'll get blamed 
on the 'Fleet because they wouldn't let us do our jobs.
	She was strolling down the corridor, one that had stores and 
shops and bars and casinos on it. The Pramenade, they called it. She took 
the time to look at what they had been able to do with the poor 
technology left to them by the Cardassians, then her communicator 
chirped," Ops. to Captain Janeway,"
	"Go ahead," she said, stopping at a window/port to look out at 
the stars that numbered in the unthinkable.
	"Sir, a coded message has been recieved for Commander Sisko," the
 unfaced voice said from the heavens.
	 "Coded message?" Janeway said, thinking of what that could 
possibly be. Then she decided to do what she knew to be wrong, what she 
knew could get her court-marshalled: she called for the message to be 
send to her office in Ops.
	 Once she got there, she over-rid the command codes that were set 
so only the person recieving the mail, or a commanding officer, could 
view the messages. She over-rid them, and looked at the typed words on 
the screen to the left of her desk (formally Sisko's desk, she laughed)
wondering what they could mean, then realizing what they meant. Finally 
she pondered who had sent them, most likely that mysterious man, she 
thought. The screen went black, leaving a light afterglow of:


		 "          THEIR COMING... NOW!!!        "


   But Sisko knows that already, doesn't he?


	      CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


      "Captain, the Romulans are hailing us..." Worf said, back at his 
station after the full eight hours of sleep he had. His hair was muffed, 
no one had thought of bringing anything of that sort, especially on such 
short notice. 
      "On screen, Commander." Picard said from his lowered center seat, 
feeling still the after-effects of his little decussion with Troi, their 
decussion on why he didn't want to talk. Before him, on the main 
viewscreen, appeared the image of the Commander Tomalak.
      "Captain Pee-card," the Romulan began. His ships and the Federation 
ships had just dropped from warp, now they circled a small green and blue 
planet, that had only a single moon. Picard had sat gazing at it, 
thinking of how the small world had reminded him of his own, of earth. 
But Tomalak wasn't into waiting for Picards' daydreams to end," Our 
sensors indicate that our fleet is arriving now."
      Picard turned slightly, glancing at the Bolian who occuppied the 
science station. When he nodded in agreement to Tomalak's statement, 
Picard turned back to the screen, " What next, Commander?".
      Tomalak sat still for a moment, then leaned into the screen," We 
will engage the Borg at the V'Larm system tomorrow, our fleets spred to 
our own patterns. Our fleets will not communicate unless death requires 
it..." Tomalak went on. Picard sat thinking of how bad their situation 
was really becoming. It seemed to Picard that Tomalak was making up the 
rules as they went along, as they were needed.
      "Once we arrive in the system, you should have your efforts 
coordinated to destroy the Borg threat...just as I will work out our 
strategies tonight." Tomalak stated, definitely going from the top of the 
head. He sat back, complete with his talk. The points of which he had 
made all too obvious: this was not going to be a 'joint effort' in 
battling the Borg.
      "Well then, Commander Tomalak," Picard said," We will begin drills 
and some 'battle readiness testing' as soon as this conversation is over."
      'Battle readiness testing', Tomalak thought, for their ships? 
please. Tomalak knew that they would be able to defeat the Borg now, with 
the help of the Federation, but only with the loss of so many lives....so 
many Federation lives, Tomalak thought. "I expect to leave here by zero 
six hundred hours tomorrow morning, Captain."
       "Very good."
       "Then this conversation ends,now." Tomalak said, the screen slowly 
going blank, then turning back into a blue and green world with one moon.
       Picard hit the red button on the arm rest, seconds later he heard,"
Scott here, Sir.", a voice he was already finding comfort in, a voice 
that gave power to the ship by just being there, almost.
       "Mr. Scott, We are going to begin some internal drills 
shortly...are your engines upto the task?" Picard asked, feeling good for 
some odd reason. Feeling young, feeling like death was nowhere around. 
Only fooling himself.
       "Captain, Ah know we aren't goin' ta battle, but these engines 
could stand up ta their entire fleet, sir." Scottie said, heavy on the 
Scottish accent. Even in his voice you could here the joy the man was 
having just being in engineering, not to mention once again being the 
chief engineer on a Constitution class ship.
       "Thank you, Mr. Scott." Picard said, cutting the circuit a second 
later. He uncrossed his legs and swiveled to see Worf. The Klingon looked 
as though he wanted to rave for hours on end on why they shouldn't be 
helping the Romulans, but said nothing. Picard spoke," Tell Captain Riker 
and the others: to get ready, make sure their ready, we're...they're 
going to battle tomorrow.".
       But only if he could come up with a new, decent strategy for 
fighting the Borg by then... oh six hundred tomorrow. "A date with 
destiny..." Picard whispered to himself, leaving the bridge.

	      
		 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


      Scottie had been working hard to get the old girl ready for any 
possible attack they may have to make against the Borg, though Picard had 
already voiced to him that they weren't going into battle. An hour after 
they slowed from warp and took a position in orbit, he had found it 
necessary to climb his way up the thin Jeffries' Tube that ran the length 
of the the connecting dorsal. There seemed to be a slight drop in power 
to the communications array, possibly the most vital system on the ship 
on this particular mission.
     Captain Scott had traced the problem to a small conduit off the 
Jeffries' Tube, close to the impulse engines. He had forgotten how small, 
how tight the tube was on him, wishing that he had done a little more to 
keep in shape. Below him he the footsteps of someone entering the 
junction room, where the Jeffries tube could be accessed from. Over the 
low hum of electric currents buzzing pass him at the speed of light, he 
heard a slightly familiar voice shout up," Captain Scott, isn't that a 
job you could have given to someone else?"
     "Ah didn't want anyone else foolen' with ma' engines or anything, 
Geordi," Scottie said, sucking in his oversized gut so to sneak a tiny 
peek down the tube at the Lt. Commander. "Hold on, Ah'll be done up here 
in a minute..." he said, knowing that the job he come to do was already 
complete.
      It took Scottie a good four or five minutes to wriggle his way down 
the tube. Once he got down to the floor, he grabbed and shook La Forges 
hand, as if they were old buddies who once served together. " So, Geordi,
what brings you over here?" he asked, smiling still.
      "I heard of what you had done to the engines and their output," La 
Forge said, taking a long look at the replicated tools of the mid-twenty-
third century that Scottie had needed to do the repair job.
     "Uh, that. That was nothing, ma' boy," Captain Montegomery Scott 
said to Lt. Commander Geordi La Forge. "All Ah did was change the flow, 
then Ah redirected the stream more precisely through the crystal... a 
little more work here and a little more dabbling there, and Voila! the 
engines are working better than designed." He was obviously proud of what 
he had been able to do. And La Forge was slightly amazed at it as well, 
especially since he had been trying to perfect that type of tinkering on 
the engines of the Enterprise for two years, the two years before her demise.
      "And you knew what to do without thinking of it first? You mean 
you've done that before?" Geordi asked, still in awe at the raw talent he 
saw before him. Without his even noticing, they had walked back to Main 
Engineering and were now standing before the Crystal Chamber. He could 
free the power, the heat, coming from the device ten feet away, but 
that's the way it was supposed to be.
      "Not everything we engineers in the twenty-third century made it to 
the technical manuals. Ya' have ta' keep moving things aroun' ta gett'em 
ta work. Why it took me four years on the original Enterprise to finally 
figure that one out...then I never wrote it down." Scottie said, gazing 
at the equipment around him. " Ah'll tell ye' again, how do you expect to 
be a 'Miracle Worker' if ye' canna' give more power when the Captain asks 
for it?"
       "I guess your right, Scottie," La Forge said, looking at the tried 
and true 'Miracle Worker'. Then he thought of something, maybe," Captain 
Scott, You mind giving me a hand doing to the same for my ship? Then I 
can show the other Chiefs how to do the same." The more powerful their 
fleet, the better.
      "Ah thought you'd never ask," Scottie said, as they started for the 
transporter room. He was already trying new ways of defeating the Borg, 
though he only knew them from what the computers said. But maybe that 
would be enough," Ah was gonna offer ta help ye' even if ye' didna ask, 
Geordi," he said patting the blind man on the back. "Ah wouldna want to 
see ye die in battle against these monsters..."
      They had ten hours to tinker with sixteen other ships; Scottie, of 
course, said it couldn't be done. But it was, in less than five. He 
finally returned to the Exeter. Time for ye' ta get a little rest 
Montegomery, he thought heading to his quarters. Tamorrow is gonna be a 
helluva day, Aye, that she is...


		  CHAPTER NINETEEN


    Oh god, oh no, christ it's the Borg, Sisko thought slumping back into 
the raised command chair. He was afraid something like this might happen, 
and with his luck - it did. Pull it together, dammit, he thought 
straightening himself in the seat. He leaned forward, elbows on knees," 
Did they see us?"
     From a station off to the side Jadzia Dax answered," If they did, 
they aren't going to change course." The answer was not surprising, Sisko 
could feel the emotions drain from those around him, they were already 
losing hope.
     "Helm, time to intercept." Sisko said, little beads of sweat forming 
on his dark brow. What to do, only one thing to do, He thought, go home, 
and play we survive. No!, he told himself, we will survive, that's what 
this ship was built for.
      "With them moving on an intercept course, at warp eight... nineteen 
minutes, sir." the ensign said, turning to look at Sisko. The face of the 
young officer said more without words, than it did with them. Sisko could 
feel the pressure coming down on him, on his shoulders. The lives of all 
those here rested on his shoulders, but the fear went for his stomach, a 
burning sensation he knew all too well.
      "Ensign, plot a course back to the wormhole...warp eight point 
five." he said. No one said a word, the bridge laid quiet for a few 
seconds, seemingly an eternity to those outside the conversation. The 
course was plotted and the engines engaged, a low hum slowly growing into 
a pulsating shake.
      The Romulan stepped up to the worried, shaken Sisko," We can't keep 
cloaked at this speed long enough to make it back," she said, whispering 
to him. Quite the uncommon Romulan she was becoming, maybe it came from 
being around the damned humans too much.
      "Commander T'Rul, we have to give ourselves time to get home...the 
Borg aren't going to slow down because we do." Sisko said, staring deep 
into her dark eyes, seeing the pain the ROmulan felt, knowing she was 
torn between going home to help fight for her own people and staying 
here...trying to survive. Sisko turned from her, back to the screen, 
where the Borg ships were slowly moving away," If they beat up to the 
wowmhole, then to the Alpha Quadrant, what's the use in warning our 
people... they'll already be dead." he stopped for a moment letting that 
sink in, then said," If you have to take the device offline, do it, but 
then we'll need all the power to outrun the Borg when see who we are."
      "I'm not an engineer, but I believe I can keep the device working 
long enough to get us back to the station...just don't count on it." 
T'Rul said, with a slight hiss to her voice. She stepped down and moved 
back to the standing position she occupied at a console in the farthest 
recesses of the Bridge.
      "Sir!" the ensign at the helm shouted, the rumble of the decking 
getting louder," The Borg, look!" On the main Viewscreen, the tiny specks 
that were actually Borg Cubes off in the distance began to grow, and grow 
quickly. Ohhhh myyy god, Sisko thought, they'd spotted us.
      "Borg ships closing at warp nine point one... they will over take 
us in six minutes, Benjamin!" Jadzia said from her station. The Borg 
ships now seemed to be gliding ever closer on the big screen.
      "Decloak...then" Sisko began, but just as he was giving his orders, 
T'Rul stepped forward.
       "Captain, if we decloak they will now exactly where we are," She 
was saying, one hand on the back of the command chair, looking over 
Sisko's shoulder.
       "Well, it's apparent they now where we are going anyway, Commander 
T'Rul," Bashir barked from his place off to Sisko's right. There weren't 
any emergencies, yet, but if Bashir pressed his luck with the Romulan 
woman, he would be the first in sickbay. "Your damned cloaking device is 
just stopping us from getting away, they know where we are going...".
       Sisko threw up his right arm, motioning for Bashir to quiet 
himself, it was time to think. And Julian Bashir was right after all,"As 
I was saying, Decloak the ship, helm take us maximum possible warp."
	T'Rul barked something at Bashir, only no one here knew Romulan, 
so the insult went over badly," Decloaking" she said, finally back at her 
station.
       "Warp eight point nine...warp nine...point one," the helm officer 
stated, the deck shaking like the ones of old, like the starships of a 
century before. "Warp nine point five, sir...that's all she's got." he 
said turning to look over his shoulder at Sisko.
	"Benjamin, the Borg are matching our speed, warp nine five...warp 
nine point five seven five... time to intercept two and a half minutes." 
Dax said calmly. Seven, technically eight, life times now coming to a 
close, she thought, I've seen worse than this. 
	But 'this' was only the chase, wait til the Borg finally catch 
us, she thought, then I'll know what's worse.
	"Wormhole?" Sisko said, rolling his head to the side, glaring 
past the science officer, remembering the last encounter he had with the 
Borg.
       "One minute four seconds."
       "The Borg are slowing, sir!" the helm officer said. He was 
pointing frantically at the viewer, like a little child trying to point 
out something to his mommy. But he was correct, the Borg where slowing, 
dropping from warp entirely.
       "Take us in on Wormhole approach," Sisko ordered, looking around 
at the officers, the deck slowly calming to the low hum of anyother mission.
       The Defiant slowed to the norm, the speed with which it was safest 
to enter the womhole. It was actually quite the difficult thing to do, 
going through the wormhole without incident. The Defiant slid in through 
the Gamma Quadrant mouth, large strings of energy flowing by, never 
actually touching the ship. The electric blue glow of the inside of this 
stable, yet artificial 'wormhole' through the galaxy spewed outward, 
helping to propell the Defiant into the comfort of its' own home, the 
Alpha Quadrant
	
			  ****  *****   ****

	 "Captain Janeway, message coming through...from the Defiant, 
sir!" someone quite un-noteworthy said from the lowered position of the 
main sensor stations of Deep Space Nine. Impeccable timing it was, 
Janeway was finally leaving, to return to her quarters on the Voyager. It 
was turning to the beginning of the night shift, time for a little peace 
and quiet, that's all she wanting now. But that is what she was not going 
to get.
	"On Screen" she said, standing forward of the doors to 
Sisko's/her office. The Steps leading down to that lower level just at 
her tows.
	The wall behind the screen slowly filled in and disappeared, now 
only the view of the bridge of the Defiant was there. Janeway shook her 
head, thinking that they could not have possibly finished the recon. 
mission that they were supposed to have accomplished. "Captain Sisko, 
what exactly are you doing here?" she asked, trying to a little patience 
left in her voice. Someone thought it was her time of the month, they 
were right, but StarFleet came first. As usual.
	"I hope you have a plan ready for the Borg, Captain, because 
they're coming...now." Sisko said, standing in front of the center seat. 
He was obviously worried, even scared, it didn't take a Betazed to figure 
that one out. But then, that's what happened when the Borg were in the 
picture, everyone got scared. "Jadzia?" he said, mystifying the captain 
and crew of Ops., Deep Space Nine.
	From a place, just off the screen, Janeway could here someone 
rattling off number upon number, finally seeing Sisko look back up to the 
screen. Drops of persperation moving toward his eyes," Captain, you have 
fifteen minutes to figure something out, because in fifteen minutes the 
Borg are going to come flying through the wormhole...not one, but three, 
Captain, three Borg cubes...fifteen minutes."
	'Get back here to the station...we'll figure it out then." She 
said, the screen going blank, the wall behind finally reappearing. 
Captain Janeway was tired, was sleepy, just wanted to go to bed, but now 
the Borg were coming...and she was in command.
	"Ensign," she said to one working the communications of the 
station," announce 'Red Alert' and have all ships launch once all 
personnel have boarded... then get the captains' of the ships over here. 
And dammit, see that Sisko gets here first...we need to talk."
	The Borg are coming, she thought, and Sisko has to be our little 
Paul Revere. We stand less a chance against three cubes, than the militia 
of the colonies against the Brits. Damn, she thought, damn the Borg.


	       CHAPTER TWENTY


     Picard sat at the large, marble topped table, alone. The lights 
brighter than he would have preferred, but there was little he could do 
about that...the computers of the day of this ship weren't the luxury of 
the ships of his day. This was definitely not a Galaxy class starship, 
but then it wasn't even a Excelsior. This ship had had its' day, and if 
Picard could have his way, this ship would have another day in the light.
     Laid out on the table were the formulas for defeating the Borg, six 
years of cumulative effort by the brains of the Federation...the Vulcans. 
The Borg were half computer, and what better way to anticipate the 
actions of a machine than by asking the best computer programmers in the 
galaxy. But even the greatest of the Vulcans couldn't come up with a 
defensive plan, idea, whatever you wish it to be, that assured defeat of 
the Borg. At best, and at the strained limit of theoritical physics and 
energy, they could get a single effort moving at a seventy-five percent 
assurance rate. But that wasn't  that promising, considering that it 
gave the Federation a seventy-five percent chance of defeating the Borg 
only if they could get the physics to work, which they didn't: so the 
problem seemed unsolvable.
     Picard decided to take it on faith, that at least some ships could 
make it out alive, perhaps crawling back to the Federation, finally 
defeating the Borg's Galactic Strike. But that was only on the optimistic 
side of the idea, it was actually more of a dream. But that's not what 
got to Picard, that's not what was eating away at him, keeping him from 
coming up with a simple basic strategy that both the Romulans and the 
Federation could work with.
     He was the Commanding Officer of StarFleet 'Task Force Alpha'. That 
didn't bother him so much, it was the fact of what he needed to do as
the head of the 'Task Force'. There were sixteen StarFleet vessels out 
there and they all came under his command, it was quite like being an 
Admiral, though he didn't quite look forward to doing that, to becoming 
that. Jean-Luc realized that each individual that had joined the 
'Fleet had given an Oath, had understood the risks of doing what they 
were going to have to do. But this was like suicide, he was going to 
send people to their deaths. But that was only half the problem, 
Picard understood the need for death, the need to defend for the rest 
of the galaxy, for those who were too weak (or too smart) to fight for 
themselves. What truly hurt Picard was the fact that he was the one 
who was sending these people to fight the Borg, while his ship, his 
people sat back and watched.
    My god, he thought, what if I'm sending someone to their death, 
then only to have them be the last of their line, the last of their 
family...the way I am the last of mine.
    For another half hour he sat at the head of the table going over 
these thoughts, again and again. Finally he help the tears hit the 
papers spred before him, it was time to do what he felt he must...to 
send these people to fight for the families, for the worlds,for the 
peace that sent them here. It was time to talk to Tomalak...

			***  ***  ***  ***  ***      

     Tomalak was escorted to the Conference Room by two security people 
Picard had never seen before. But that wasn't something new, he could 
only know so many people, remember so many names.
     "You've come up with something?" Tomalak said taking the seat at the 
far end of the table. He was in his usual Romulan garb, with dark, short 
cut hair coming down to his thick,bony brow. He sat rigid, like Picard 
had noticed so many times before, these two were not strangers. But this 
time they were going to be fighting on the same side of the line, against 
a common enemy, one obsessed with galactic dominitation. If that's what 
it could be considered, Picard had told himself a thousand times before. 
Is it like being programmed, like the computer of this ship, not being 
able to override the programs on their own? No one knew, no one but the 
Borg that is.
     "Not exactly, Commander." Picard started," The Federation is taking 
a risk by sending us here, but I have no voice in the matter. It seems 
even our best people couldn't find a way for defeating the Borg without 
the lost of lives...many, many lives."
     "Captain, we are leaving orbit in one hour...my fleet has 
arrived...how are WE going to fight this battle?" Tomalak said, placing 
all the possible emphasis on we. He sounded desparate to Picard, but 
there was really nothing he could do.
     "The only way to defeat them is going to be to relentlessly pound 
their ships into a metallic cloud of dust...and that means having ships 
out there for twenty four hours . The only way we can accomplish that is 
to have your fleet out there for twelve, then backing off...giving us the 
next twenve as you regroup and get repair and rest. Then we continue 
until something happens in our favour, I mean, for both of us..." Picard 
said feeling relieved that that was the only thing Tomalak had thought of 
as well.
      "Well, then, I will lead my fleet in for the first round." Tomalak 
said, standing to leave.
      "Make it so."

			   ****  ***** ****

      Thirty minutes later, the two fleets had arrived at the V'Larm 
system, warping into the battle no one who attended would ever forget.
Around the fifth planet of the system were four Borg Cubes, moving slowly 
outward, slowly toward the home planets of the Romulan Empire, though 
they never make it as that speed.
      The Romulan fleet slowed from warp moving in to strike at the Borg 
ships, who seemed to be waiting, just waiting for them. ANd so that was 
what they were doing.
       The Federation Fleet slowed from warp as well, keeping their 
distance, out past the final, the ten, planet of the system. THe sixteen 
ships that were going to battle made to long lines of eight, stretching 
out of view of the screen on the Exeter. The Command ship was going to 
hold this position for the entire battle, keeping out of the front line, 
as it were.
       Keeping Picards' ship company was the Romulan Warbird that 
commanded the opposite fleet, commanded by Commander Tomalak. The Romulan 
fleet was heading in, the federation ships watched as their romulan 
counterparts took on the cubes.
       This is for freedom, Picard told himself, this is for freedom.
       He stood to exit the bridge, turning to Worf at the communications 
console," I'll be in my quarters, if anything happens I want to know." 
And he left, a little sleep would do him good, though he wouldn't be able 
to close his eyes from the thoughts that ran through his head.
       Off in the distance, light minutes away, the romulan fleet of nine 
Warbirds and six smaller attack ships buzzed the Borg ships, who made no 
efforts to evade the smaller ships. They just took the shots and fired 
back, doing more damage than that that was inflicted upon them. They were 
waiting for the fleet to drain of power, then take them and destroy them.
Like small insects flying circles around someones head, the smaller 
attack vessels weren't being touched, the Warbirds, though, weren't doing 
as well.
      After eleven hours of lying down, pacing back and forth, and so on, 
Picard headed for the bridge. Once there, he saw that Romulan casulaties 
were relatively light, compared to what he had expected.
      "Tomalak to Pee-card" the voice said from the heavens. SOunding 
quite dismayed at the outcome of the first romulan/Borg round of the 
Battle of V'Larm.
       Seated at the center as usual, Picard answered," Go ahead Commander."
       From unseen Romulan bridge, Picard heard from the leader of the 
Romulan FLeet," It's your turn, now."

	  
		 CHAPTER  TWENTY ONE

 
      "Captain, fifteen seconds to weaponds range," Data said from the 
helm console of the Enforcer, the already stated newest ship of the fleet.
      Riker sat back in the center seat, wondering how in hell they were 
going to defeat the Borg. He glanced back to a small, petite woman who 
was manning (he still didn't understand that one) the communications 
console," Lt., send to Exeter: We have engaged the Borg."
      The ship sped toward the four large cubes at a quarter the speed of 
light, the other fifteen following closely behind. The ships, the Task 
Force, slowly spred out, moving out to cover all directions that the Borg 
may be vulnerable. The Enforcer shot off the first round of photon 
torpedos, which hit the 'lead' vessel of the Borg. The ships were 
arranged in a diamond pattern, face on.
      The torpedoes hit the center of the weaken BOrg vessel, but to 
little surprise," No measurable damage to the Borg ship, Captain." Data 
shouted as the red alert klaxon slowly faded into the background.
      On the viewscreen, two of the federation ships flew directly 
between the four Borg ships, letting every phaser and photon fire in the 
directions of the enemy. The strategy was slightly effective, but also 
backfired on the second ship. As the Maryland buzzed the space in between 
the Borg ships, firing all weapons, the Borg retaliated, all ships firing 
their own phased energy weapons at the ship. With the multiple hits of 
Borg weapons, the ship was torn in two, directly at the point of saucer 
separation. Thus causing slightly less damage than what it seemed...until 
the engineering hull exploded near the lead BOrg ship. The was flung, 
spinning end over end, out of the pattern of attack, toward the outer 
edge of the solar system. The crew who had survived thus far where going 
to make it.... in an act totally against everything Picard believed, a 
Romulan vessel went to warp to help save the crew of the StarFleet ship.
     Though many lives were lost in the explosion, it appeared that the 
standard 'warp core breach' had torn a quarter of the lead ship away. It 
was actually completely missing, nowhere to be seen.
     Only seconds after the mishap with the Maryland, the Borg vessels 
moved apart. Now the ships were more like four separate targets, where 
they seemed as one large target before. 
      "The ships are diverging" Data said, manuevering the Enforcer to a 
position just outside the weapons reach of the Borg. It had been decided 
that the fleet would fight for ten minutes, move out of range for five, 
then move back and fight another ten. Now the second round was ready to 
begin, the fleet down one vessel; the Borg down a fourth of a ship. It 
seemed almost unfair.

			*****   *****   *****

      On the main viewscreen of the Exeter, Picard saw his fleet being 
battered and torn down by the unrentless Borg. He found it awkward that 
they were now being the aggresser, not the Borg. But that was the way it 
had to be. Picard had just gotten word that the Captain and first officer 
of the Maryland had died in a freak explosion on the bridge of their 
ship. Then it came through that the Romulan vessel was  going to 
transport the remaining crew  of the Maryland to the Exeter as soon as 
they could. Picard had no choice in the matter, he had a battle to win. 
As unlikely as that may be.
     "Ah do na' understand the reasonen' behind sended so many ships to 
fight these beasties. If we coulda just tossed a few warp cores at 'em, 
then this woulda' been over already..." Scottie said standing off to the 
side of the center seat, he had decided to watch the action from the bridge.
     "Captain Scott, it isn't that easy. THose things cost time and 
money..." Picard said, looking up from the screen for the first time.
     "So much money and time that the lives are worth less?" Scottie 
asked, he knew he had Picard with that one. Of course, his suggestion was 
impractical, but it was possible if not unique.
     "Scottie...." Picard began, but was interupted from something that 
buzzed over the comm circuits. He spun around to look at Worf, who seemed 
just as confused as Picard was about the sound. "What is that, Mr. Worf?"
     "Unknown, Captain" WOrf growled" Though it is getting on my nerves." 
he seemed ready to destroy the entire console in a single blow.
      "Ock, Captain, tha's just feedback from the subspace transmissions 
of the ships out there...they must be sending a lot of messages back an' 
forth to put out that much excess." Scottie said taking the seat at the 
Engineering console.
       Picard sat there thinking the situation over. THere can't possibly 
be that much talking going on between all my ships or the Romulan ones, 
Picard thought.
      Just as Picard had hit upon the fact, a message came in from the 
Enforcer, a message that came to the same conclucion," Captain Picard, 
this La FOrge...listen, we've analized the subspace links between the 
Borg ships and have found that,well, this is quite amazing, sir..." 
Geordi found himself stumbing over the words while watching the engines 
of the ENforcer as it continued to pound the BOrg, and to be pounded by 
the Borg. In the back Picard hears someone yell,"The conduits to the 
emergency generators are fused shut...once the mains are off-line, we're 
dead in the water..." but that wasn't Picards' concern now. He had to 
find a better way to defeat the BOrg, at least before casualities rise 
any higher. And all this only thirty minutes into a twelve hour cycle 
that would keep them getting battered. The Romulans had faired better, 
they had more reason to fight: the Borg were heading for their home 
worlds, now his. Geordi returned from the static," It appears that the 
Borg of each ship are connected to every Borg on all the other 
ships...there must be billions of connections and transmissions going 
back and forth at...at, frankly sir, all times."
     "Understood, Geardi," Picard was saying. He really didn't know what 
to say," Do what you can,just be careful." But that wasn't it, there was 
far too much emotion in the way he said it, caringly for his officer of old.
     The transmission ended, and SCottie darted for the 'lift," Ah got me 
an idea on how ta stop tha', Captain. Ah think if we can knock off the 
subspace babbling, then we'd be able to take them on without 'em knowing 
what exactly happened."
     "More to the point, Scottie, when the Borg find a problem they stop 
what they're doing to fix it...if you can do anything with that, let me 
know." Picard said turning back to the screen. On a side scanner, the 
science officer noted the approaching of a Romulan ship...obviously the 
one with the survivors of the Maryland.
     Picard was worried, more worried than any character he had ever read 
of in a Shakespearian play. From this view, his ship was well out of 
present dangers' way, but his eyes told him differently. The fifteen 
remaining ships limped, in some cases, and charged, in the others, out to 
the point where weapons could not reach. The effort was working, 
slightly, the lead Borg ship and made a sudden change with the one to 
its' right, trying to take the brunt of the fire off of itself. But Will 
Riker had seen the move, and kept the two thirds of the fleet he thought 
was needed to put the Borg ship out of commision for good.
     Picard had seen enough, this view was giving him a headache...but 
then so was the thing that came next. It had seemed as if Scottie had 
just got in the turbolift, when his voice came ringing," Captain Picard, 
Ah do think Ah have the answer ta stoppen' the Borg talken'!"


	       CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

 
      Sisko hound himself being transported directly from the bridge of 
the Defiant into Ops., Deep Space Nine. He would have preferred to dock 
the ship, with her engines slightly over-heated and all. But that would 
cool down where they docked or not, and the fact he didn't have a time 
estimate on the Borg arrival didn't help his case much. Every individual 
in Ops. wore a StarFleet uniform, meaning that the Bajorans who were 
usually here had been bused out. But that made him feel out of place, as 
if this wasn't exactly his station.
     To make those feelings even worse was the second he noticed Janeway 
waltze from his office. Dammit, he thought, get out of my office. Of 
course, she didn't give him the time, or the option, to voice himself. 
Janeway waited from the large glass and metal doors to barely begin to 
part when she began," Sisko, in here...". And that was it.
     Ben walked to the doors, they slid open...and there she was sitting 
comfortably in HIS chair, behind HIS desk. He felt the blood rushing to 
his face, even though it seemed quite the trivial matter, it was one of 
those little annoyances that eat at you and eat you. He took a seat, well 
not actually a seat, rather he propped himself up on the front edge of 
the desk letting his weight be supported (an attempt to take back, at 
least a little, of what was his).
     "Captain Janeway," he began, contemplating grabbing her and tossing 
her out from behind the desk, especially once he noticed that what he had 
upon (his desk) was irratating to her. Instead he opted to tell the 
imprtant," the Borg chased the Defiant to the wormhole, then slowed, then 
I don't know," he said, rolling his eyes and looking up to the ceiling, 
up to the heavens. "The most important thing is we did get all the prodes 
information...but even more so, the Borg can see right through our cloak."
     Slowly, droplets of sweat begin to form on her brow, not exactly 
something that was considered fashionable for women captain to have 
happen. But then, again, it was justafiable for this situation. "I see," 
she said, looking down at Sisko's backside, still holding him, resting 
him on the edge of her(?) desk. "How many?"
     "How many?!" he repeated," Three cubes, isn't that enough?" Christ, 
he thought, wouldn't one be enough?
     "And they slowed and didn't follow you through?"
     "Well, we're not being assimilated are we?" he said, just enough 
sarcasm so not to be insulting, yet enough for her to feel a little 
pained. 
     "Captain Sisko," she said, standing with both hands balled into 
fists on the desk. Oh boy, he thought, here it comes. Hello Odo, you have 
to put me in the brig, I was being a little mean to our new bitch...I 
mean commanding officer. Ha, he thought, ha, just try it.
     "Captain Sisko, get back to your ship...we're going through," She 
said, walking around the desk, heading for Ops. Obviously, she wasn't 
kidding.
     "Captain?" he asked, quizzically.
     "If we stop them, or even slow them, from coming through the 
wormhole, the better." She said, motioning for Sisko to step up onto the 
transporter platform. Once he had done so, " Sisko, I'll brief all the 
Captains of the ships in the FLeet, once I'm ready and aboard the Voyager."
     He felt a small, cold, wet shivver move up his spine and as the 
transporter effect took him, a cold shudder jerked him back to reality. 
But now back on the bridge of the Defiant.

		      ****  ****  ****  ****  ****

     "Benjamin, what's going on?" Jadzia Dax asked, rushing over to 
him, just as the tingling and whining sensations and sounds of the 
transporter effect had deminished. Sisko shuddered and lost his 
balance, falling on his rear, onto on of the steps that lead to the 
higher level of the center seat. 
     He sat for a second, then began to laugh," I had a small talk 
with Captain Janeway and she gave me the most wicked cold chill I've 
ever experienced." He stood, pulled down on the top portion of his 
uniform and leapt up the two steps to the chair, this one was 
definitely his.
     "So what are we going?" Kira interjected from the doorway to the 
bridge, she had obviously just arrived. But the smile on her face 
gave away the fact that she had been there long enough to see Sisko 
fall on his rear. Her voice betrayed nothing, not even the great 
amount of fear that she was hiding. She didn't want to fight the Borg.       
      Sisko looked over his shoulder, then back to the main viewscreen, 
which showed both the Station and the now invisible wormhole. He rubbed 
the stubble that was quickly beginning to cover his face, contemplating 
for a moment whether it was the days without shaving or the stress of 
those days that had led to the wild hairgrowth. He brought himself back 
to reality, then felt the burden, the responsiblity to answer the 
question. And so he did," We're going to the Gamma Quadrant to fight the 
Borg..." he uttered, not exactly liking the idea. He pointed, halfly, to 
the ceiling," Better to fight the Borg there, than to risk the 
assimilation of Bajor and everything else. Besides, if we can't beat 
them, at least we have the chance of destroying the Wormhole before they 
can come through."
      "Uh-huh," was all that anyone said, and that came from Kira, now 
standing over near the station that Dax manned.
      It was going to be a long wait for Janeway to get them all 
underway, a long wait in their minds at least. A long aganizing wait, 
that had everyone contemplating what it would be like to be a Borg.
      Of course, there was one man they could have asked...but he was a 
quarter of the galaxy away...fighting the Borg, again.

		       
		 CHAPTER  TWENTY THREE


     "Well, Scottie," Picard said, strolling through the large, double 
doors to Engineering. If what Scottie had found was going to stop the 
Borg, then dammit it must be worth hearing in person, he thought. But 
said," This had better be good, you know I shouldn't leave the bridge 
when we're in battle."
     Scottie stood there, looking at Picard with the large grin that 
seemed to always be on his face in times of trouble. He was the great 
"Miracle Worker" and would you believe he had done it again. He turned, 
sucking in his large gut, but he had a good reason for such a gut...he 
was the greatest Engineer since Zefram Cochrane, and was about as old as 
Cochrane was when they had found him ninety years earlier. "Aye, sir... I 
know what ye mean...but Ah think you should look at this for ye self."
     THe rotund engineer lend the Captain of the Exeter over to a small 
station worked into a wall near two sets of ladders/stairs that led to a 
second level. On the board where dials and buttons that were more than a  
century out of time, but seemed to work just as well (if not better than 
his own twenty fourth century equipment).
     "So what's this all mean?" Picard said looking up from the switches, 
rubbing his balding head with a hand that felt a little cold and clammy.
     "Ah found that the Borg talk back an' forth from ship to ship like 
they do, as ye said they did, from man to man aboard one ship..." Scottie 
said, not trying to let on too much as to what he had actually dicovered. 
Remember, you don't let on until the solution is already been approved 
and has worked. 
     "And that means..." Picard said, trailing his voice, leaving the 
question open ended for the ChEng to answer.
     "It means that Ah have already found a way ta shut down their 
subspace chattering between ships, sir." Scottie answered. He looked 
around at the crew that monitored the dozen different stations of the 
large room, a room larger than that of the Galaxy Class starships that 
seemed to redefine spaciousness aboard space vessels.
     "How?" Picard asked, catching on to what the Scot was hinting at.
     "All Ah need to do is set one prode, or even better a small shuttle-
craft, above the magnetic poles of each Borg ships...there they won't 
detect them...too hard for even the best of sensors to detect." Captain
Scott said, using his hands to show how he would have them placed above 
the emorous ships of metal and plastic. It was obvious that even Scottie 
did his homework on the Borg ships.
     "What are they going to do?" Picard asked...
     ...the ship rocked back, knocking Scottie into the console he was 
using to show Picard his demonstration. Picard tumbled forward almost 
into the arms of the hundred and twenty kilogram man, but the second wave 
of motion pushed him to the ground. The deck swung to a thirty degree 
angle, rolling Picard front over back straight into the casing for the di-
lithium crystal chamber. Scottie found a worn, old, almost comforting hand-
hold on the console, barely letting him keep his balance, to stay on his 
feet. Such good news wasn't when he glanced up to see one young Ensign be 
flung over the red guardrail to the floor of the Engineering room, 
instantly killing the woman, her spinal cord snapped in more than two places.
    Picard made it to his feet, after his thirty second bout with the 
crystal chamber, immediately hitting his newer style StarFleet combadge,"
Bridge, Worf what the hell happened?"
    Only static.
    "Bridge, come in. Worf, do you read." Picard was beginning to worry, 
the ships convulsions had settled to a slow shake every second or so. 
Scottie was too busy making sure the engines where holding together, 
knowing damn well that the ship wasn't designed to take a beating from 
twenty fourth century weapons.
    "Bridge can you hear me...Mr. Worf...Ensign..."
    "Worf here." Came over the comm system, relieving Picard who was 
beginning to think the worst of the posible situations.
    "What happened, COmmander?" Picard said, walking, with a limp, over 
to the console both he and Scottie had been looking at.
    "As far as we could tell before the bridge depressurized, a random 
graviton beam from the Borg Fleet as directed this way..." WOrf 
continued, but that was all that Picard had to hear...the rest being the 
bull.
    "Before the bridge depressurized..." Picard said, again using the 
familiar 'you finish this sentence' tone he had been blessed with since 
childhood.
     "Yes, sir," Worf said, the sound of a clunky, old turbolift in the 
background. He continued," The beam tore the bridge flight recorder 
straight out of the ceiling of the Bridge... if one of the unused Bridge 
chairs hadn't gotten stuck we all would have died.."
     Picard turned to Scottie, who was making his way back down the 
ladder that led to the second deck of the large main room. Scottie had 
heard the whole conversation over his own com, looking to Picard he 
mouthed," That had happened before, tha's the reason the moved the damned 
thing".
     "Where are you now, Mr. Worf?" Picard said, hussling over to a 
second console off, out of way...one that had a viewscreen. He flipped on 
the screen, only to see his now battered fleet crawling back to regroup 
near his cripp;led ships position. The twleve hours were finally up.
    "Everyone, but Ensign Topper, the helmsman, got to the 'lift," Worf 
said, he paused to let the Captain think that there was nothing they 
could have done to save the red-headed officer. He took a deep breath, 
somthing he had been deprived of for several long, excurciating seconds 
of living in the vacuum of space," We are on our way to the Auxiliary Control
Room on deck eight."
    Scottie nodded, that was the only place that control could be handled 
easier than it was to do down here in Engineering, though it could be done.
Auxiliary control, was the seemingly perfect pre-cursor to the so called
'Battle Bridge' of the twenty-fourth century 'Exploration' vessels of Star
Fleet.
    "Very good, Mr. Worf...let Commander Tomalak know that we are having 
some..'minor difficulties'...and that his twelve hour shift is back."
    "Aye, sir." WOrf said, the sound of turbolift doors swooooshing open 
in the background."WOrf out."
    "Well, Captain Scott," Picard said, feeling that though they had lost 
a life, it could have been worse," It seems I could very well owe my life 
to you."
     "It won't be the last time, sir." Scottie said, a smug look on his 
face, knowing that Picard would take it as light heartedly as his once 
former Captain Kirk had taken such comments.
     "I see... well then," Picard said, seeing a slight shift in the mood 
of the situation, a slight shift in the posible friendship these two 
could very possibly have. He smiled, showing his teeth, something that 
rarely happened," Well, now you and your men have real Work to do...get 
that bridge back together."
     "Agh, Captain...that's almost done already," Scottie said, knowing 
that the crews he had already assigned to do the job had already arrived 
on the the bridge in their spiffy little 2370 a.d. space uniforms. "But 
Ah think tha' it may be better to tell ye what Ah have got once Mr. La 
Forge comes home."
      "That sounds good. I'll be on the Battle Bridge...I mean in What 
did call it?" Picard said, thinking that it was maybe best to let Scottie 
think he did definitely know this ship class better than those history 
buffs who studied such things, like Picard. (Too bad for Picard, Scottie 
knew this ship better than the ship knew itself!)
     Slowly, as if talking to an infant, Scottie joked with his newfound 
friend and commanding officer," Aux...ili...ary....Con...trol".
    Picard turned to leave, shaking his head and slightly laughing, even 
though the state of the ship didn't exactly call for such humor. He 
stopped and turned and said to Scottie," Where you always such a smart ass 
with Jim Kirk?"
    Scottie looked up, shocked by the question, then began to remember 
his friend. A slight smile and then...
    ... " Aye."


	       CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

 
    The Romulan Fleet had taken out two of the cubes, before the 
Federation was even asked, then pleaded to, then even co-ursed by self- 
exiled Ambassador Spock on Romulus. The Romulan Star Empire had taken 
quite a hit in the sore spot when they found that the Federation could 
only spare so few ships. But, then the Federation had lost a good number 
(thirty nine to be exact) of their war vessels against a single Borg ship.
Today, neither the Romulan or the Federation 'Empires' would stand to 
lose near half that many ships against four times the power of a single 
Cube, for they spare four Cubes, the unrelentless Borg.

    Captain Jean-Luc Picard seemed to be wandering the ship, in fact lost 
of the eighth level, one that was supposed to house the ships 'auxiliary 
control room', the precursor to the Battle bridge. Finally, he found the 
door, with no help from crew members rushing past, quickly trying to get 
the bridge back to normal. But then, on these 'primative' twenty-third 
century ships there were no computer consoles on the walls of the 
corridors to show the way.
    "Captain...the Romulans have lost one Warbird and two smaller attack 
vessels in the last round of attacks." Worf said standing at a console, 
almost completely hidden from the view of anyone who entered. A large, 
red, metallic type fence blocked a direct route to the console Worf 
seemed to be using. Hearing the door begin to slowly swoosh shut behind 
him, Picard turned just in time to see two 'meds' take the now dead body 
of a bridge crew member past.
    "How long until we get another crack at them?" Picard said, closing 
his eyes and thinking of the family of the young man who had died. A 
single death was something that bother Picard far greater than the 
thousands that were going to die in the next few hours. The single death 
reminded him of a message he had recieved only a month before...on the 
holodeck of the Enterprise-D, a message that would live with him to the 
grave. And if he was anymore cynical now, he thought it may live with him 
in the infinite space and time of the Q continum, knowing that Q would 
never let his sole entertainment cease to exist.
     "Two hours, ten minutes." Worf answered, he seemed to be 
concentrating on the job he was preforming, keeping a close eye on all 
Romulan communications.
     Picard stepped up to a vacant station, the first inside the door, 
but before he took the chance to seat himself, Captain Montgomery Scott 
entered, via the same route as Picard. He seemed worried, almost 
frightened, but then his face changed," Captain, Ah think ye better call 
Mister La Forge an' have him come over here...Ah think Ah have a way ta 
stop th' Borg." He left.
     Jean-Luc didn't know what to think, Scott was behaving differently, 
mad then happy, laid back then urgent, it just didn't make sense. And 
where did he go, just stepping out like that, Picard thought. He turned 
to look, strainingly through the think metal fence, at Worf, who seemed 
to had taken over all operations.
     "Already on his way, sir." Worf said, without having been given the 
order. This was something Picard had found irritating in most situations, 
but when it came to war and the such he felt that it freed his time to do 
the important things. Like seeing what Scotty and Geordi where going to 
do about the Borg.

		       ****  ****  **** ***

     "You want to do what?!" 
     "Ye heard me...Ah tell ye, Geordi, it'll work." Mr. Scott said, 
looking straight into what would/should have been La Forges' eyes, now 
covered with the damned VISOR he insisted on never getting rid of.
     "You can't just launch probes, or even shuttlecrafts, at Borg ships...
I've told you it just won't work. They won't get close enough, they won't 
work fast enough, and the whole thing probably won't work at all." 
Geordi said, more like complained, as he walked to the edge of the upper 
level of the rarely used photon/subspace science lab. Geordi, not being 
to familiar with these type of ships, had finally stopped complaining 
about the damned handrails all over the place.
     "Then we can beam 'em inta place." Scottie said, seated behind the 
only twenty fourth century computer console in the entire labratory. The 
room was immense compared to so many other rooms on the ship, only 
dwarfed by the entire engineering room.
     "Beaming, how can we beam probes into position over both of the very 
minute magnetic poles of Borg Cubes, without getting blasted to hell when 
we lower our shields? Answer that one." La Forge asked, getting a little 
pensive, realizing that this was, in fact, the only decent idea had yet 
to hear.
     "The transporters on this ship could be modified to..." Scott began.
     "This ship can't take the pounding and you know it,"
     "But...Ah had hoped to use th Exeter transporters  to beam the 
probes more than halfway there, then get one of those damned Romulan 
ships to cloak and beam them the rest of the way without being detected." 
Scottie said, with the one problem he had feared showing itself in his 
voice, not in the exact words.
     "Halfway..."
     "Aye, these transporters are twice as powerful than any that you 
engineers have on ye ships taday." he said in rebuttle,"...just a little 
tinkering."
     "I don't know," La Forge said, rubbing his chin in the thoughtful 
way he had learned from his engineering professors back at the Academy.
Then he thought a moment, really thinking, putting everything into it, 
looked up, nodded, then slapped his combadge," La Forge to Picard."
      The door behind his swooshed open, in walking Picard," Already 
here, Mr. La Forge...what do you have for me."
      "Not me, sir, Captain Scott..."


	      CHAPTER  TWENTY SIX


     "Standard Orbital Approach," the helm officer of the Voyager said.
     "Very good, scan for ships in the area and any signs of Borg or Jem'
Hadar ship on the planet surface." Captain Janeway ordered, she had 
gotten the much needed nap while inroute to the world, the world where 
they believed the remaining Borg threat had vanished to.
     "Scans indicate a moderately industrial humanoid society on the mainland
of the this world. It is becoming difficult to scan the region, due to 
the amazing amount of pollution they are producing in their 'factories'." 
the first officer said from a position off to the side of the captain.
     "We're not looking for them, Chakotay, try scanning for the 
ionazation trail...it may have survived well into this earth like 
atmosphere." Janeway said, a sly smile on her face.
     "The sixth planet, the largest, is closing in on its' perihelion, 
causing massive eruptions on the surface of the star beyond... the 
solar wind is distorting the scans of the surface and atmosphere below 
six hundred kilometers."
     "Just find them."

			**** **** **** ****

     "Ship of an unidentifable  shape is located in the southern most 
region of the largest island off the main continent, east." Dax said, 
amazed that they had been the first to pick up on the ships subspace 
transmissions, apparently uncoded and of....Borg design.
     "Contact the Voyager, explain to Captain Janeway what has been 
found...then transmit coordinates to the Voyager and to our own 
transporter room... apparently they crashed...and survived." Sisko said 
drawing out the final word, leaving it to the rest to find whether they 
feared the Borg, whether hurt and dying or better when they were alive 
and well.
     Sisko preferred them dead, as dead as they could possibly get.
     Though still wondering, in the back of his mind, what had happened
to the agreement between the Borg and Jem'Hadar, and if the Jem'Hadar had 
done this much destruction to the Borg, the Borg of all people (? where 
they people, could we consider them alive?), then what could possibly 
await them?


		   CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN


      "Commander Tomalak, I promise you, there will be no damage caused 
to your ship...we don't have the cloak, so to do this we need you, we 
need you." Picard said, making it a plead. Small droplets of sweat formed 
on his high forehead, no hair to stop them from rolling down into his eyes.
The 'Auxiliary control room was becoming quite stuffy, with loads of 
officers that Picard had never seen rushing in and out, trying to tie all 
controls from the bridge to the is medium sized, computer filled control 
center. The bridge was supposed to be back on line in another two hours, 
hopefully before then. But then, Picard thought, if I know Scott, he'll 
have it ready in an hour or less, even with all his planning. One to 
really count on...
     "Captain Pee-card, you want us to fly into the middle of a battle, 
cloaked, and beam these 'probes', as you call them, near the Borg 
ships..." Tomalak said, looking as if he was going to laugh, as if he had 
never heard of such a rediculous plan before in his life.
     "If it will save the lives of so many...." Picard began, cut off, 
not by his own will, but by the large, dark hand that Tomalak threw up 
near the screen calling for silence.
     "We will do it," Tomalak said, slowly allowing himself to lean back. 
Picard smiled slightly, the persperation on his brow quickly beginning to 
evaporate, relieved that it went so well. Tomalak," But, you must allow 
us full access to the systems that will be controlling the probes." 
     Picard died. Well, not really, he just felt as if he had, as if his 
heart had been punctured again, life fleeing him, running on a direct 
course away from him," Why?" was all he could ask, quite the nonsensical 
question.
    "We want to know exactly what is going on, Pee-card, We want to know 
how you plan on defeating the Borg." Tomalak answered, making his motives 
all too clear, without adding part of the truth, he wanted to know 
exactly how the probes of the Federation worked, how they stood up to his 
own, how he could possibly find a way to defeat the border probes along 
the Neutral Zone, probes just like this one.
     And Picard knew it, but caved in," Fine, we'll contact you once the 
probes are ready... Picard out." he said, giving his little nod to Worf 
to cut the line, which he did. The screen went black.
     "Captain Scott," Picard said to the air, forgetting that the 
computers of the twenty third century didn't quite respond the way his 
did, in the twenty fourth. He looked to Worf who said,"Try now,sir."
     "Scott, here." the two words flooded the speakers, almost painfully. 
It seemed some systems where just getting callibtrated for being rerouted 
to the bridge.
     "How are those probes coming along?" Picard asked, feeling a bit 
relieved. Of course, he knew full well, that the job these probes where 
to do was not going to destroy the Borg ships, but cut them off from one 
another.
     "Another minute...wait, one...Aye, sir, th' probes are ready." 
Scottie exclaimed over the loudsystem. He wasn't quite the proud, Scott 
who did wonders at his job, was he?
     "Very good, Mr. Scott...one question though..Why are we beaming them 
out there into space then letting the ROmulans beam them aboard? Why not 
let them have the probes now?" Picard said, tilting his head upward, 
where the speakers of his ship and all ships older than this one had 
their speakers. This one didn't, though, he did it out of habit.
     "We need to know if they're going to work, don't we?" 
     "I see your point." Picard said.

		    *****  *****  ****  *****

     "Fleet moving into position," Worf said, looking through the thick 
metal fencing that separated him from his commanding officer.
     "Alert Captain Riker that a Romulan Warbird will be joining them in 
one hour to deposit some help around the Borg." Picard said, standing as 
he had been doing for the past nine hours, tiring quicker than he thought 
possible.
     "Aye".

		      **** **** **** **** ****

      "Energizing transporters, now," Scott said, standing at the 
controls to the main transporter unit. The Probes had been loaded onto 
two transporter platforms and were being beamed directly where they 
needed to be so to be checked. 
      "Transport complete" he said, a smile on his jolly, fat face.
      "Probes are working perfectly," someone behind him said, standing 
at a console that was rarely used by anyone including the transporter 
chief, which ships of this one's day didn't have...they simply had the 
'Chief Engineer'.
       "Aye," he said, just for the sake of it," Aye."


		CHAPTER  TWENTY EIGHT


      The Fleet moved off into the distance, somewhere out there, where 
the Borg were waiting, where fate was closing in for the kill. The Borg 
where still making their slow course through the system, killing 
everything that stood in the way. Halfway between the command ships of 
the FLeets and the infamous Borg vessels, there stood eight gerry rigged 
solar probes, sending out some sort of buffetting subspace signal...on 
all frequencies. They just stood there, not moving (relative to all 
parties involved).
      The Fleet moved in, the lead ship- the Enforcer, under sommand of 
Captain William Thomas Riker- fired the first shot... a full spread of 
photon torpedoes off the leading ship. They did little or no damage. The 
Fleet of now fifteen ships, two almost out of commission, spread out, 
spanning the invisible surface of a sphere that inclosed the four Borg 
ships. They didn't seem to care.
      The battle that would see the end of the war with Borg had begun, 
just twelve hours before it would end. The various ships made their 
moves, diving in close to the Borg, firing off all their phasers and 
photon torpedoes, then speeding out, away from the action. This starategy 
was tried by the Romulans and worked, only moderately, for the forst 
attacks that they made against the Borg...successful in the way that only 
thousands of lives where lost, instead of the hundreds of thousands that 
could have been given away.
     Some ships did what seemed, at least on the computer (Used to be on 
paper!), to be quite impossible manuevers. The London was making a dead 
run for the lead ship, the one that had been designated alpha, the others 
following in an obvious order of greek letters. The London took a 
parabolic course that let her slip under Alpha, firing her phasers and 
torpedoes...but then she stopped. A dead stop, completely motionless, and 
with that the Borg stopped firing, as if their sensors where saying the 
ship was dead. Though it wasn't. 
     Captain Manik, commanding officer of the USS London, had decided on 
a course of action that no other had dared. He cut the engines, allowing 
the ship to drift, the magnetic fields of the Borg ship slowed the London 
just enough the the front of the ship was now completely turned toward 
the Borg vessel. He waited, the engines working (Overtime). Using the 
main deflector dish, he fired an enormous resonance burst at the Borg 
ship, simulating an Antimatter explosion when it came in contact with the 
enemy ship. 
      The London powered up in less than the millisecond that the 
computer said was necessary, full reverse, and the ship spend away from 
the blasted Borg ship...with the help of Newtons Third Law. He used a 
strategy that was taught to every student of command ability at the 
Academy, something that the 'Chief Engineer' of the command ship had once 
tried. Amazing...
      The London sped free of the battle scene, having caused the largest 
explosion yet (At least since the Federation had arrived). The Borg ship 
had a semi-spherical hole the size of a nice sized asteroid blown out of 
the bottom side. The Borg ship retreated, moving into the safest spot, in 
the back. The already damaged rear ship took the front position, not 
letting its' weaponds hestitate to fire as it did so. The now, rear ship 
was missing close to forty-five percent of its' original mass. A manuever 
and idea that would ultimately, in the years to come, allow Captain Manik 
to become Admiral Manik...but that would be years, and years ahead.
   The manuever worked once. But the chance to pull the same manuever 
again would never come, the Borg adapted to well. And most Captains and 
even every ensign knew that.
     Except for one...one captain made the naive mistake, a mistake he 
would live just long enough through to regret.


		    CHAPTER  TWENTY NINE


     Sisko was pasing the length of the Defiant bridge, he hadn't thought 
of the situation that he had been placed in as "command'. But it seemed 
Captain Janeway had done that very thing, not wanting Sisko or anyone in 
command of any vessel to beam to the surface near the wreckage of the 
Borg ship. Instead of disobeying her orders he opted to send Lt. Jadzia 
Dax and Security Chief Odo to the planets surface...along with over fifty 
other personel from the six other starships. 
     Sisko couldn't contain himself, he felt that he belonged down there, 
he felt he deserved the right to see the Borg squirm in the last minutes 
of their lives. Sisko felt he deserved to be the destroyer of the race 
that took away the only woman he had ever loved, the woman that had given 
him his only son, Jake. But, how. How could the Borg had revived these 
thoughts, Sisko thought remembering his first (and only) encounter with 
the aliens of the wormhole, I defeated the Borg, I let go of Jennifer...
Damn!
     "...jamming all subspace frequencies that the Borg are known to have 
signalled on..." Kira was saying from the science console off to Sisko's 
left. Janeway had, wisely, decided to jam all Borg transmissions...they 
didn't want them calling their friends, did they?
     "Very good," Sisko uttered, not thinking really of the things going 
on around him. He was lost in the thoughts of the bloodest battle the 
Federation had ever fought...Wolf 359...then they were gone. The thoughts 
of Jennifer, the thoughts of that system, the thoughts of Lecutis of 
Borg, the thoughts of revenge: they all dissapeared from his mind, as 
quickly as they had formed. Sisko was back...
    He took his seat, center, higher by a step, crossed his legs right 
over left, folded his arms of his chest. He tilted his head to the right, 
rather than turn his head the opposite way," What's going on down there?"
he asked. The question came from nowhere, Kira was shocked he had even 
said anything, knowing what he was thinking, the same thing she would 
have been thinking if she had been in his place. Was he speaking to me...
    
			   ***** **** **** *****

    Dax had been the first to fully materalize on the planet 
surface...Odo taking, for some unknown reason, longer to appear. The 
teams from the other six ships took longer, though no more than two minutes
had pasted from first arrival to last. But time seemed to stop once one 
stepped on the soil of this new, never touched land, on this planet that 
was as beautiful as any scene from earth in the nineteenth century. For 
lain out before them was the remains of a Borg Cube, sprayed out for 
miles, almost from horizon to horizon. From what she had heard, it seems 
that this Borg ship didn't stand up to atmospheric pressures and 
emergency landings quite as well as the now downed Enterprise-D. 
     Much of the Cube, however, remained intact. Looking like a large 
pile of metalic waste...resembling a late twentieth century trash heap...five 
hundred meters high! The Cube was a small mountain, taking up much of the 
scenery directly ahead, yet more than a kilometer away from the current 
position of the teams (who really had no purpose, but to look everything 
over).
    "Dax to Sisko and Janeway," She said, stepping closer and closer to 
what may hold nothing for her but death. Dax was not in the least bit 
apprehentious about this, though Odo couldn't help but seem a bit too 
cautionary.
    "Captain Janeway here...Go ahead Lt." The voice from nowhere replied, 
sounding a wee bit nervious, a wee bit tired, and a wee bit angry. 
Placing most emphasis on her rank, and the rank of Dax, trying to not let 
her forget it.
     "If I wasn't holding the tricorder I wouldn't believe it myself, 
Captain," Dax said stunned, showing the readout to Odo, who stood just 
over her shoulder. It was apparent from the actions of the other small 
groups of StarFleet officers that they were all coming to the same 
conclusion at the same time. She paused, letting the captain listen even 
more carefully to what she was about to say. Then," Captain Janeway, I'm...
we're only picking up trace reading of Borg disruptors only... no Jem'Hadar
ionazation signature is present in any of the surrounding debris or in 
the atmosphere..."
     "I see..." she said, sounding just as astonished as Dax had believed 
she would," well then," and the signal died, mid-sentence...nothing but 
static. 
     Dax looked up, as did everyone else who was in contact with the 
ship, they looked around at each other. It was Odo who spoke as the 
groups started to huddle and converge on a single position, near Dax and 
Odo, the first two who had arrived on this paradise. Odo mumbled to 
her," They must be under attack, frequencies being jammed." People 
started looking to the sky, watching for flashes of phaser fire miles 
over head...they saw none. Odo repeated," They must be under attack..."
     Someone in the middle of the fifty person group shouted," No they're 
not...we are!", everyone looking to the wreckage. Pointing fingers flew 
up as they noticed nine Jem'Hadar warships decloak, landed on the ground.
Before another word was spoken, half the team had dissappeared...obviously
beamed somewhere.
     Two of the ships took off, firing their disruptors up to the 
heavens, firing at the starships in orbit. Then Dax suddenly felt sick, 
and realized it was the transporter effect...the sickening feeling was 
the standard effect the transporter had on Trills.  She opened her eyes, 
only to see Jem'Hadar soldiers pointing large disruptor rifles at 
them...motioning Odo and Dax and the other twenty or so hostages through
a specific door. They did the only thing they could do, dropped their 
weapons as they were told...and followed the Jem'Hadar orders.

			  ***** **** **** *****

     "We got half of 'em!" Chief O'Brien said, standing out of eyes' 
shot. "Most of the crew were beamed up by their own ships...but we only 
got half... the rest should be on the way." 
     "Somethings happening on the surface, sir!" the ensign at the helm 
shouted, the noice on the bridge was becoming deafening. She spun around 
to look at Sisko, who was now standing before the great chair," Ships on 
the surface decloaking!!"
     "Who...wha...how?!" Sisko muttered, trying to figure out what was 
happening. The moment communications went down, he (along with Janeway) 
had made the decision to beam their people out of there...only a moment 
to late.
      "We can't lock on..." O'Brien was saying," Trying...sir....trying...no  
..can't get them...somekind of damned dampening field...damn...It's the 
Jem'Hadar, sir!"
      "What the hell's happening down there?!" 
      "Two ships firing,sir" the ensign at the helm said, letting her 
fingers do the flying over the controls. Then she said the worse thing 
SIsko could have been possibly asked," Raise shields, sir?" 
      He sat down, the disruptors blazing past them. Near hits.
      "Raise shields, Ensign."
      The two ships that fired had parted the Task Force with their wild 
fire, separating the ships like the Red Sea. The ships fired as the 
pasted, low powered disruptors, not doing much harm...only making a path 
for the seven that followed.
       As the ships pasted,"What's their..."
       "The course of the enemy ships is bearing two two nine mark one 
seven..." Kira said from the science station.
       "Plot parellel course and engage at same warp as them," Sisko 
said, knowing that fighting the Jem'Hadar would be a losing battle, not 
just for them..but for Odo and Dax. Then there was the problem of where 
exactly they were heading, until he looked at viewscreen to see a red and 
brown haze slowly take shape in the distance. One thing came to Ben 
Sisko's mind...
	...the Founders...
	...but why?

			    *****  **** *****

	 Dax and Odo found themselves in a small dark room, with only two 
other personnel; thought they knew neither. Apparently the Jem'Hadar had 
been told to watch for a traitor, a Founder traitor...Odo. Even through 
that order, they found themselves compelled to put him and his friend in 
the best empty compartment they had. The Jem'Hadar (and the Founders) had 
found out that it was a tiny bit harder to follow orders, especially when 
your genetic programming says the opposite. Once again, DNA would play a 
part in the way they acted, just as it always had.
	 "What's going on...where are they taking us?" the one unknown 
officer asked, looking through the moisture rich, heavy air that made 
breathing and seeing even harder in the poorly lit room. 
	"No one put up a fight, they don't care what happens...so long as 
they get away...it's all that Captain Janeway's fault..." the other 
unknown said, obviously showing his feelings for the commander of a ship 
he didn't serve on.
       "If the Defiant or any ships fired on the Jem'Hadar, we'd all be 
killed with them...you don't know the power of these ships," Dax said, 
taking a seat next to Odo on the soot covered, dingy floor.
       Odo looked around, sudden, jerky movement, as if trying to get 
away from something, yet listening to see if was still there. He looked 
at Dax, fear hidden in those pseudo-optics," They're taking us there" he 
said. When both unknown officers asked where, he pointed franticly to the 
corner ceiling of the room," ...to the founders..."
      Through a vent in the wall of the room, a hissing appeared, they 
all looked around to each other....gas! The room quickly filled with a 
clear, odorless gas. As the two unknown officers slumped over, and as Dax 
begin to close her eyes, something she just couldn't help. Try to stay 
awake, she thought, fight it, fight it!
       She couldn't. From the corner of her eye, she saw, for the first 
time, Odo begin to melt, to transform into his original, jelatonous state 
of being. My god, she thought, the gas is knocking us out...and... (The 
words that formed the thoughts were coming to her slower and slower.)... 
doing the same to...Odo...he must...have...to ...change back to...his 
origin...al...form to slee.......


	       CHAPTER  THIRTY


       "Romulan ship moving away from their fleet, now cloaking," Worf 
said, looking through the red fencing, the lighting shadowing most of his 
already heavily browed face.
       Picard was seated, now tiring from the operations that they moving 
through. His shift had another full eleven hours, making his string of 
hellish waking days almost two full. His face was also shadowed, not by 
lighting, rather the stubble that professed his manhood had taken the 
last two days of waken activity to sprout anew. He finally acknowledged 
Worf after a moment of trying to assimilate the words he had heard. Damn, 
he thought, everything is speeding up, while I'm slowing down...this 
can't keep up.
       A whistle sounded,"Crusher to Picard", a voice he hadn't heard 
since the beginning of the mission. Thankful that it was atleast there, 
though fearing what she was definitely about to say...
       "Go ahead, Doctor" Picard answered trying to keep his normal, 
bridge tone, though there wasn't anything normal about the 
situation...and they still weren't on the bridge. He wasn't fooling 
himself, then he wasn't fooling anyone else.
       "Orders from StarFleet Medical...go to bed, Captain," She said, 
teh voice filling the room, as if spoken from the heavens.
       "Doctor, this is the most important part of this mission" he said.
       "You have ten minutes...then it's in my hands...understand?" she 
asked, leaving it to him to decide.
       "Understood, Doctor," he said, cutting the line to Sickbay. He 
looked around at the bunch working around him, then he opened another 
line," Counselor Troi to 'Auxiliary Control" he said, knowing full well 
that Deanna was sitting on a biobed in Sickbay, having tattled to Beverly 
on how bad a little boy he was.
       "The probes have dissappeared, Captain" Worf was saying when he 
came around, having been in very well known place called LaLaLand, the 
place where people go when they are all in their head...paying no 
attention to outside stimulous.
	"Very good," he said, wondering what had happened to the probes, 
then almost kicking himself for not realizing that the Romulan ship had 
begun beaming them to their respective positions over and under the four 
mighty Borg Ships. Then from nowhere a voice came into his, no not his 
head, his ear...he was beginning to lose it, he needed sleep. But the 
voice was familiar in someway, yes, it's Scottie. 
       It was Scottie who was supposed to be telling him,"The bridge has 
been completely repaired, sir. We need only ta repressurize...then ye get 
ye chair back..."

			     **** **** **** ****

       The mighty ship slipped past the phased energy bursted that were 
going off around it, off to starboard, off to port, the ship turned, 
glided past them. This ship, an Excelsior class starship, dived and rose, 
moving out of harms way. The ship's shields taking less of a brutal 
pounding than most others'. Her crew were experienced, they knew what 
they were doing, but one thing was held against them...none them, not 
even the vessels captain, had fought against the Borg in the past. 
      The Cairo spun around the rear ship, making loops around the 
indented, cratered cube, as if tying a great invisible shoe lace, or 
winding it's grandmothers cotton yarn in a large ball around the ship. 
The phasers making contact, shifting frequency so to do the greatest 
damage. The torpedoes moving off as slow as any had, hitting their 
targets with precision never seen before...but then, most targets rarely 
were so loarge and willing to say virtual so still.
      As the starship came around, over the side of the Borg ship that 
had been designated the top of the ship, the engines were cut...the ship 
fired its slow retrotrusters to easy them into virtual motionlessness. As 
before, with another ship, the strong magnetic fields of the north of the 
Borg ship were pulling greatly on the south poled end of the Cairo. 
     The front, the saucer, for somereason tended to have a slightly 
negitive magnetic charge, with opposites attraching, the saucer bent the 
ship toward the Borg vessel. Captain Jellico knew that if this worked 
again on the Borg, a clean whole the size of a nice asteroid would let 
them look straight through the center of the cubic ship.
      The main deflector energized, almost full...then a burst of phased 
energy shot from the Borg ship, seemingly from nowhere. The beam of light 
that showed the course of the burst was aimed at, and hit the main 
deflector dish of the Cairo, sending it out of its' fifteen years 
orbitable cycle around the borg ship. The entire engineering hull almost 
collapsed instantly. The ship was dead, only functioning by the will of 
those still alive.
      From the bridge of the ENforcer, the great lead attack ship 
ironically from the Ambassador class of vessels, the show of fire power 
was magnificant. Nothing like it had every before been seen coming from a 
Borg ship. The explosion of the impact dimmed the viewer as the light 
sensitive equipment came on line. Will Riker was stunned, calling for an 
immediate fall back, to regroup. All ships listened, except for the one 
barely alive.

			     **** **** ****

      The computer was the only voice heard under the moans of the 
tortured bodies of seven hundred people. "Fifteen seconds to total loss 
of warp coil containment field"...fifteen seconds to death.
      Captain Jellico knew what he had to do, even from his position on 
the deck of the ship with a fractured leg and massive internal bleeding, 
his own lungs either collapsed or filling with fluid. He reached to the 
green control on the center seats armrest, once pressed a subspace signal 
was opened. He whispered as loud as he could without causing anymore 
unbarable pain,"Cairo...Picard kill them all, kill these bloody 
bastards...kill them so I can destroy them when I might them in hell..." 
He released the green control, moving his hand to the red one, the one 
that he had hoped never to use.
      Before the mission had started, he had requested circuits to be set 
to his command, for one decision only. In case of a warp core breach, 
coolant leak, or drop of containment fields...the ship could make a 
single, warp jump lasting less than a trillionth of a second...the power 
he had.
      His hand reached up, qwivering with fear and pain, knowing that 
there was no other choice. The computer announced,"Five...four...three..."
he presseed teh control, the little, glowing red touchpad. He released it.
      The ship leaped at them, the Borg had never had a chance...

			     **** **** ****
 
      The Cairo moved to warp, a trillionth of a second later the mighty 
starship slammed into the side of the Borg rear vessel, nothing they 
could do to move...all for the better.
      An instant after the mighty explosion upon inpact the 
antimatter/matter containment was obliterated along with every piece of 
material in the area...
      The Cairo existed no longer...
      Nor did the rear ship in the Borg formation.

			     **** **** ****

      "Level Three shockwave," Worf said, flying over the controls, 
knowing that this wave was going to cause quite a little bit of 
havoc out here. They were still in Auxiliary Control.
      Picard was just leaving, having seen the Cairo dissappear, 
having had enough death for the day. Troi stood above the seat, he 
had been slumping in, knowing that Picard wouldn't leave if the 
shockwave was that large.
      "Shields," he said...then exitting the room. Leaving Troi in 
command, as if he didn't care. Which he didn't, after a certain 
point, death isn't death anylonger, it's a game, a joke, something 
no longer worth paying attention to. Death was the evil hayfever he 
had as a child, after a few days of headache, it seemed not to 
bother him anylonger, though he knew fool well it was there.
      Moments later the ship rocked, a slight little roll, like 
riding over the beautiful, rolling waves on a breezy day at sea. In 
closer, the damage was greater, but only to tehir ships, but the 
Borg as well. All ships had suffered, and to everyones dismay, 
except that of the Borg... it was going to continue. The suffering 
and death that is.


		     CHAPTER THIRTY ONE


      Kill them so I can destroy them when I meet them in hell, Picard 
thought, lying still in his bed, the bed of the captain of a Task Force 
who stood little chance of success against the Borg forces, until the 
moments that took the lives of hundreds of people just an hour ago. Three 
left, three...how.
      He had left the command to of the fleet to someone who had not seem 
command action before...ever. But he trusted in Troi, and Worf, who had a 
high endurance for time without sleep, and in Barclay, who had to join 
Troi, he knew they were in fair hands. Not good hands, not the hands of 
people who had done this before...but then, who had done this before?
      Sleep, sleep, sleep, he tried to will himself to sleep, he tried to 
keep the upsetting, depressing thoughts of death out of his mind. For 
them, there would be plenty of time later, for the deaths of the people 
he didn't know, for the deaths of those he did (like Ed Jellico, though 
they weren't exactly friends), for those who had died before...for his 
family, those he had yet to fully grieve for...but then, he thought, as 
he usually did, what is enough? how am I to know? Damn.
      He finally fell to sleep, the ship slowly rocking, obsorbing the 
shock of the destroyed Borg ship, with tears welling in the creasing of 
this eyelids, Picard, Jean-Luc Picard finally dozed off, out there where 
no one could die (at least for real) in the realm of dreams.

			  **** **** **** ****

       Worf had held his position, saying as long as he could hold out, 
which for the powerful Klingon would be another forty eight hours, or so. 
He had been standing for the past three days, straight, with only fifteen 
minute breaks every four or five hours, leaving the other important 
people to other jobs. His replacement, Reg Barkley, had been down in 
engineering, helping Captain Scott, who it had seemed had taken a liking 
to the otherwise friendless Barkley. 
	Though he knew he could last, his favorite human now being his 
boss, he didn't want to bother Troi with such things as getting someone 
to take his place as he did other things during what should have been 
brakes. So he stayed at his post, not taking a break when she was on 
duty, and for that he would be, though not many knew it or thought it 
believable, close to physical exhaustion. "The Romulan ship has 
transported the six probes into position above the Borg ships..." he 
said, looking through the fencing, his voice a tiny bit more hoarse than 
usual.
     "Very good," Troi said, keeping a weary eye on him, trying to see if 
he was still at top proformance, if not then Barkley could do the job, 
letting him sleep, and recuperate. "Captain Scott, your problems are 
ready to be turned on," she said, looking into the metallic grating of 
the two-way speaker that was amazingly outdated, even for a hundred years.
      There was a small break in the noise, things got quiet, very quiet, 
almost as silent as the space, the vaccuum outside the ship. Then 
Scotties boomed over the speaker," Aye, commander. Ye send a message ta 
the Enforcer, tell Captain Riker ta pullback, they canna get caught in 
the surge that the probes'll put out when Ah turn 'dem on..."
      She sat in the only available chair, she face half hidden by her 
long brown hair. All the better, she wouldn't want anyone to see the 
smile she had on her face, the smile she got everytime she listened to 
Scottie speak...there was just something about his voice, something about 
the accent that made him seem to everyone like he should be their 
grandfather, the wise old man.
       "Sending," Worf said from his position, his voice getting a little 
more out of sink, a little more hoarse, a little more dry and exhaustive 
like. He looked through the screen, nodding to Troi, his new found 'love' 
interest. THen he mouthed, rather than speak and give her ample example 
of his fatigue, enough to send him to his room," Ready..."
       "Captain Scott," She said, flinging the hair from her eyes,"You 
can turn on the light show.". 
       "Aye..."

		  
	      CHAPTER THIRTY TWO


	They really had no idea what was going to happen to the Borg when 
the probes started to transmit, or do whatever the secretive Scottie and 
Geordi had done to them. We can't leave out the help that Barkley pitched 
in, helping when he should have been sleeping. But then he didn't have 
much of a job when he was on duty, seeing that Worf didn't want to go off 
duty to give him the chance.
	The probes were going to rest in positions that had been 
calculated to have been directly above the magnetic poles of each 
ship. Like most ships, all ships made of metal, the Borg had a 
considerable magnetic field, especially since they were the best at 
warp technology, which relied heavily on strong magnetic fields. The 
Borg had unusually strong magnetic field lines that jsut seemed to be 
caused by the unregulating of their warp drive, however they seemed 
to be without the matter/antimatter system, it seemed logical to 
believe that the magnetic fields came from the center of the ship. 
      Knowing that sensors had the hardest time penetrating the the 
positions above the magnetic poles of large objects, they had 
discovered that the Borg had the same problem...just as bad as a 
small moon, or planet...esentially a Borg ship is large bar magnet.
      Placing the probes in position at the poles, keeps the Borg 
from finding them, though they would surely feel the power that the 
hidden probes could give...
      The switch was throne, and the probes began resonate at 
frequencies that seemed to be abnormally high, and just as abnormally 
low on the subspace band, frequencies that the Federation had found 
decades before that seemed to link to, or have a specific baring on 
what happens in the physical world of...electromagnetic fields 
(radiation).
      What is that horrible corrilation between the fields of the 
electromagnetic world, and that of the subspace realm? Scottie knew, 
he had done the original work on the subject. It seemed that if he 
could link specific frequencies of subspace to specific magnetic field 
lines of the Borg ship, then the the subspace messages (or whatever 
was traveling in subspace) would propogate across the magnetic field 
lines. Then what? What ever happened to be traveling across that magnetic 
line would have to return to a space (inthe physical world) where it had 
originated, where the magnetic field line originated.
      Once specific frequecies where linked, messages sent on other close 
frequencies would link to corresponding magnetic lines, thus making 
messages on other, close, frequencies do the same to other magnetic lines.
In essence, no matter what frequency was being used, the message could 
never escape the stronger magnetic fields of the ship or object it came 
from. 
     So what would this do to the Borg? It cut each ship off from the 
others, cutting the link that made them a true collective, making 
fighting in the close quarters of this confined star system even more 
hazardous from the humogous cube shaped war ships. The theory of Captain 
Montgomery Scott would eventually go on to be one of the greatest 
breakthroughs of the late twenty fourth century...and he wasn't done yet. 
      The idea behind the plan also had unexpected reprecusions on this 
battle itself, making the odds of the Federation/Romulan Task FOrces even 
better than ever. Of course, Capt. Ed Jellico wouldn't know that, but 
then...there were definitely some other Borg who would be joining him in 
hell on this day.


		  CHAPTER THIRTY THREE


     The amount of time that pasted was not known to any of the dozens of 
hostages of the Jem'Hadar, particulary the three who sat groggy in a cell 
with a now semi-jelatinous Odo. Dax glanced down, then quickly turned 
away, not wanting to offend Odo, knowing how personally embarrassing this 
must be to him. So she sat there wondering what the gas had done to him, 
how it had taken to knocking them out, and turning him into...into a 
pile, a puddle of goo.
     She slumped against the wall, soot and dust rubbing onto her 
uniform. Jadzia thought for a moment then looked to the ceiling, as if 
someone shy had been undressing in front of her, and she spoke," It 
appears that whatever that gas was, it bonded to your outer 
pseudo-epidermis and caused it to break down...I'm sorry Odo," she said 
thinking of continuing with her apology for giving a reason why this 
happened. It really didn't matter how, but why they had done this to them.
     Light filtered through a newly opened slit in the door to the cell, 
though it seemed to Dax that this was not exactly a cell, but a room for 
some type of storage...what kind she didn't know. The light flickered, 
she looked up, her eyes caught in the involentary reflex of squinting to 
adjust. Through the slit, a moment later, she could make out the eyes, 
those reptylian eyes, of a Jem'Hadar, one of those who escorted her and 
the others here. He peared in, obviously having better night vision that 
the Trill or humans who occupied the small space.
     "You are to stand..." he said, a little funny voice that sounded 
almost out of place. Beside her, Odo had returned to a fully humanoid 
form, the gas having finally worn off. He nudged Dax, urging her and the 
rest to stand.
     They did as they were told. Obvious to Dax, and hopefully to all, 
they weren't going to be killed, who would bring this far after putting 
them to sleep for so long...how long was it? She didn't know. Jadzia, 
though a little worried, perhaps nervious, knew that they were safe, no 
harm coming to them. The door opened, the light from the corridor filling 
the tiny room. Her eyes ached, feeling something she hadn't known for 
years...a headache set in.
      
			***** ***** ***** ****

      "Slow to impulse for planetary orbit," Sisko said, seated where had 
been for the pst thirteen hours, the entire duration of the trek from the 
Borg ship to this planet, a planet with no particular sun, a planet 
floating through a nebula hundreds of light years from the wormhole. 
     The ship slowed, he felt it in the soles of his boots. The other six 
ships were in a pattern behind the Defiant. Something Sisko thought about 
every second his mind wasn't on what could be happening to his people on 
the Jem'Hadar ships. Fifteen minutes later the mighty warship took a low, 
elliptical orbit that would bring it as close to the atmosphere as 
possible without incurring damage to the ship. 
      "Scans of the surface show little has changed here in the last few 
months, Commander...Captain," Kira said, having taken Dax's place at the 
Science console off to the left of the center seat. 
      "Where'd those ships go?" he asked, only Dax and Odo on his mind, 
getting them back and getting the hell out of here. Sisko had been 
worried, not just for Dax and Odo, but for the fact that if Dukat had not 
been so willing to take up positions near the alpha mouth of the 
wormhole, this could have been a very deadly trap. Pull the fleet out of 
position by faking the destruction of the Borg, then fly through and take 
what you want...a plan that couldn't fail. Of course, and Sisko didn't 
know this, that was not the plan. The plan had been changed, and that was 
the reason the hostages were taken...they needed (the founders, that is) 
, needed  someone to explain that to. And who better than the 
investigators of the destruction of the last of the Borg.
     "Right where we thought they'd be...life signs are normal," she 
said. Looking over the controls, then turning to Sisko," The Jem'Hadar 
are hailing us, sir...they're leaving the surface." On the screen a dozen 
of the Jem'Hadar ships sped toward them from the surface of the planet.
     Hailing us..., Sisko thought. Now, what the hell is going on here. 
     "On screen,".

			   **** *** **** ***

     "Your ships will drop their shields, your ships will power down 
their weapons, your ships will be saved destruction only if you do these 
simple tasks." The Jem'Hadar said from the screen in the front of the 
bridge of the Defiant. He seemed the most intelligent of all the 
Jem'Hadar he had ever come in contact with.
     "Why?," She asked, never actually seeing a Jem'Hadar before, but 
then Captain Janeway had never seen a live Borg before either. Sisko had 
had reservations of letting her beam over, though left the decision to 
her alone. The Jemmy's as he was becoming fond of calling them, had 
wanted to speak only to those who were on what they believed to be the 
command ship-  the Defiant.
      The Jem'Hadar sat quiet, not saying a word, just as he had for the 
half dozen other questions she had asked, and again Sisko asked for 
her,"Why?"
      And to him, the Jemmy answered," Once the talk is over on the 
surface, your men will be returned...so you may leave before we destroy 
you." the screen went blank, then returned to s picture of the planet and 
stars beyond.
      Janeway looked to Sisko,"What about the women? Only returning our 
Men? What..."
      Sisko stood, looked down at her and smiled,"Captain Janeway, they 
meant they were going to return them all, they just said men to make it 
easier...now, what do we do?"
       She looked at him, grinned, then frowned,"Lower shields, power 
down weapons and beam me back to my ship..."

			     ***** *** *****

     "What are we doing here?" Odo said, looking around at the dozends of 
Jem'Hadar soulders that surrounded them, it seemed as if they were 
standing in a sea of aliens, aliens that would sooner kill you than look 
at you. Looking over the heads of the souldiers, Odo noticed a slow 
parting of the crowd ahead of them...someone was making their way through 
the ocean of aliens.
      "It seems we're about to find out," one of the two unknown officers 
said, standing directly behind the humanoid Odo. The other guard was 
standing next to his shipmate, sniffing the sleeve of his uniform, 
evidently the gas  had saturated their clothing and was still lingering 
about...at least it wasn't enough to cause any effect on them, or Odo. 
But most likely enough to be analized when they got back to the ships 
they were from, if they got back to the ships they were from.
     The Jem'Hadar in front of them moved out of the way, letting them 
see past. The soldiers moved and knelt, facing the ground, being the good 
little genetically engineered soldiers they were supposed to be. 
     Approaching them, a female, a female that seemed familiar. She 
walked up to them, looked them over then to Dax," I never expected that 
you would know of our plan to conquer the alpha quadrant,".
     Dax looked at her, fire gleaming in her eyes,"From what we heard, 
you were going to let the Borg conquer the rest of the galaxy, so long as 
they left your worlds alone." Spite and anger filling her voice, she 
didn't like battle, but she liked being kidnapped even less.
     The woman, or what was her interpretation of a human woman, looked 
stunned, evidently surprised by the fact they knew so much. She looked to 
Odo,"You know as well..." as if he wouldn't help defeat the Borg because 
his own kind were the ones behind the supposed invasion of the Alpha 
Quadrant.
      He just nodded,"I know everything that Starfleet knows about you 
and your plans," he said.
      "Well, plans change...and our's did." She said, the Jem'Hadar who 
were standing around earlier, still on the knees. Oh the glory of 
oppression, the power of being in control...
      "That's why you brought us here," the guard said behind Dax, now 
leaving the gas and his sleeve alone.
      "Correct, we want to explain it to you, then let you leave...this 
is the last time. We threatened you before, but this time is special, we 
give the chance to leave...later...only because you impress us with your 
amount of information," She said, looking from one to the other. Then she 
said what those at Starfleet would fear more than the Borg,"But the 
impression stops there...we've got your spy, well, we did...he's dead 
now...so sorry." 
      So sorry, so sorry, so sorry...the words rang in Dax's ears the the 
door buzzer to her cabin on DS9, when someone stood there ringing over 
and over...for the first time in her life, she wanted to kill someone, 
solely for the sport of it...this creature had infuriated her to that 
point, one she would regret in the days to come...not because she took 
action on the impulse, but because she didn't...


		    CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR


       "Switching the probes status ta active," Scottie said, his voice 
filling the bridge. The entire operation was finally back where it was 
supposed to be, on the bridge. Scottie had been seated at the engineering 
station for the past twenty minutes, waiting for the right moment, 
wanting everything to be prefect. The fleet had withdrawn to what he 
thought was too safe a distance, but that didn't matter. From his 
position on the bridge, he had a direct link, not only to the staus of 
the probes, but also to the engineering room of the Enforcer, so to be 
anle to communicate to Geordi La Forge any previously unforseen problems.
      On screen, the three Borg cubes where slowly drifting back into a 
recognizable pattern, though they had begun to slowly speed up, heading 
out of the system, perhaps now fearful of that they were facing. But then 
again, or even most likely not. Remember these are Borg, they don't have 
emotion, they're just chips and neurons, no emotions, no fear.
      "Overlay visual with subspace field recognition chart," He ordered, 
the young man who know helmed the once mighty vessel give a little 
sqweeky "Aye,sir" and changed the entire look of the screen with field 
lines highlighted in blue and red, depending on their intensity.
On screen now, the Borg ships where nothing bot tiny square dots, with so 
many subspace lines extending in the highest intensity color of red, the 
ships where zoomed out, letting room enough to show as many as possible. 
The Ships where surrounded, literaly, with red and yellow hallows of 
lines that made circles around each. One intriguing thing stood out, many 
blue, the weakest intensity, lines where extending beyond the system, 
beyond the sensor range of the ships...meaning only one thing. THis is 
far more a collective that previously thought, everything done here was 
being transmitting back to where ever the Borg come from, a place some 
where unknown in the deepest recesses of the Delta Quadrant.

			   *****  **** ****

     "Data, get a reading on where those signals are going...pinpoint the 
exact location," Riker was ready, now they were gathering not only info 
on these  Borg ships, but possibly on the homeworld of the Borg! He 
continued,"This is our best chance at finding where they're from..."
     Data sat at the Ops. console worried, something he had not known he 
could feel until the month before, worried of what the destruction of 
these Borg ships could mean to the Romulans, and to the Federation. It 
was possible that they were sending for reinforcements, as funny as that 
may sound. It was also possible that they were relaying vital information 
to the next wave of, though they have no feeling, vengeful Borg ships, 
willing to annlihate, rather than assimilate. Wow, Data thought, I'm 
scared of something that's most likely never going to happen...this is 
anxiety!
     He brought himself to listen and do as he was told, holding and 
trying to savor the feeling (mostly for later analysis)," Aye, sir."

			   **** **** **** ****

     "Probes now active," Scottie said, keeping an eye on each panel on 
his console, just to be sure each probe worked as it was supposed to. 
Luckily for Captain Montgomery Scott, they each worked as he had 
expected...just another miracle from the great "Miracle Worker" himself.
     His other eye was intent on watching what happened on the main 
viewscreen, to see if they did what they were supposed to. Working right, 
and powering up right were two separate things, very separate things, 
considering that what these probes where supposed to do, was not thought 
of until the day before.
     On screen, the blue lines that left each Borg ship, slowly curved, 
heading in other directions, slowly bending back in upon the ship from 
which that particu;ar line originated from. The lines seemed to entend 
from one side of the ship, made a small curving loop outside, then 
heading back in on the opposite side  of the ship. "Aye, just like the 
damned magnetic field lines, Geordi." he said, glaring at the screen, 
speaking low into the communications array, the little button and grill 
work of the century before, on his own console.
    From the same grill and button, though this definitely came from the 
grill, was the reply of La Forge,"Mr. Scott, I don't know how...whoa!!!"
..and everything died.
      Well not exactly, it would later be estimated that the lost of 
lives came to six million...six million Borg that is.

			  **** **** *** ***

       The lines where going nowhere, and they couldn't figure it out. 
The sensors that the mighty ship had didn't detect anything, they knew of 
no technologies that could do this to them. They changed frequencies, 
postulating that the umassimilated had jammed certain frequencies... 
knowing from the great memory banks that all frequencies could never be 
blocked, for there were an infinite number of them.
     Alone, so alone, no one else, to be alone, so alone....
     Then the messages returned, they were once again in touch with the 
collective, not the entire collective but one ship. Then after 
milliseconds of Borg to Borg signal recognition tries, they found that 
the ship they were in contact with was in fact their own ship. The 
signals built up, taking memory and storage from each of them, they 
needed to store the messages, though they were their own. The Borg saved 
everything, and though the transmissions were their own, and far less 
than all those they were recieving seconds before, they built rapidly as 
frequency upon frequincy turned inward upon their own vessel.
     The feedback of the their own transmissions built until it was far 
too much to hold, but they knew no other way. Every bit of data was to be 
saved, so to understand and be able to assimilate those who created the 
data to begin with. This broke the Borg, what happened next killed them.
     The feedback was being stored, the messages were already being 
anylized, so to assimilate the makers of the messages. They knew no other 
way, there was no subroutine, no subprogram, no nothing, that told them 
that an unknown transmission may be their own. They began to plan to 
assimilate the makers of the messages, but found that they were they, 
they had to assimilate themselves. They had assimilate the assimilated. 
This created a paradox that shut the entire ship down, they knew no other 
way to deal with the problem than to shut all other systems down. Once 
they did so, the 'warp core', or the secretive drive of the Borg 
collapsed...destroying the mighty ship and it's six point four million 
inhabitants.
      The other two ships came to differnet conclusions, not taking the 
same route as this doomed ship. They survived what was intended to not be 
a weapon, but a helper in destroying their kind in the old fashioned way 
of sending in the powerful to hammer away, hammer away, hoping to kill 
them. No not kill, to terminate them. Shut them down. Two ships, two of 
four, two of six, had survived, rocked by the explosion fo their sister 
ship. No Borg would mourn the lost, they could not, they had no feelings, 
no emotions to speak of. All the better, so they couldn't feel the pain.

				**** *** ****

     "Auck! Well, didya see tha'," Scottie said, laying the excitement in 
the accent pretty thick. "Never expected tha' ta happen" He stood proud 
of his work, amazed at the outcome..one less Borg cube to deal with.
     "Captain Scott, you did it...you've given us the chance we needed," 
Geordi was yelling over the hoopla pouring out of engineering on the 
Enforcer, the excitement was barely containable. 
      "Now, ye get your asses back in there and finish 'em off," Scott 
said, leaning over his console, knowing that the level three shockwave of 
the explosion of a Borg ship was on it's way. What he was really doing 
was checking the positions of the probes that remained...and thanks to 
the wells in th magnetic fields of the Borg ships, the probes avoided 
being shifted out of position by the partners of the now dead 
warship...assimilation ship.

			  ***** *** *****

      The shockwave shock the ship, rocking Picard from his sleep, his 
shallow sleep, one he forced on himself. Thankfully awoken to cheering in 
the corridor, realizing either the Borg were destroyed, or running away. 
He slipped his one-piece back on and leapt from his bed. Time to get back 
where I belong, he thought, on the bridge.
      Off in the distance, on not measured in kilometers, but in light 
minutes, fourteen Federation ships moved in for what was hopefully the 
final kill. The Borg were without communications with one another, 
placing better odds on the bet. Though it was far from a sure thing, 
Picard knew he and his friends, were going home soon. Going home to say 
they had defeated the Borg for hopefully the last time, going home to 
mourn the loss of the lives of the crews of three ships, going home to 
mourn the loss of his own family. 
     Three ships, my god, he thought, three ships.
     We just have to make sure, he thought on his way up the shaft, we 
just have to make sure that it says at three...and only three.


		 CHAPTER  THIRTY  FIVE


     "The Borg ships are moving off, heading away from the heart of 
Romulan space," Data said, smiling, an evil smile that gave away the new 
found feelings, feelings of despise, of hatred for the Borg. He knew what 
they had done, knew what they were going to do, knew what they wanted to 
do. Now the chance for a Borgified galaxy was close to nil...actually the 
probability of them conquering this arm of the galaxy, the Sagiturius 
Arm, was only at fifteen point three nine nine six nine percent to begin 
with.
     Riker sat in his plush, perfectly stuffed command chair, knowing the 
decision on what to do next laid with him.  Picard would undoubtedly give 
him the option of the next action, only overseeing it, and approving it. 
The fate of the lives of thousands of people rested with him, the 
Tactical Field Commander of Task Force Alpha, a title that would any Pop 
proud of his son. 
     Two Borg left, two Borg ships left...do we follow, do we save 
ourselves from what could be our deaths by not going after them, Riker 
thought. 
     He stood," Plot an intercept course for the Borg ships...get us 
within weapons range...then match speed and direction...we'll wait at 
that distance for the Captain's orders" he said, reflecting on Picard and 
still calling him 'The Captain', when he himself now held the rank as well.
     "Aye, sir," Data said, alknowledging the command, not giving it a 
second thought. A blip lit on his console. "Messages from USS NORTH CAROLINA
and USS DECKER...They request permission to return to 'Base Position'... 
both ships report heavy damage and many casualties." 
      "Granted" Riker said, hanging his head low.
      "Captain, the Romulan Fleet is moving in...at maximum warp!" Data 
shouted, trying to talk over the noise of repair crews and breaking, or 
broken consoles.
       
			    ******  *****  *****

	"What?!" Picard said, staring at the face of Commander Tomalak on 
the main view screen. He stood there, on his own command bridge, one that 
had just been fixed, listening to something that had seemed to come from 
the preverbial 'Right Field'. He can't be serious, was all he continued 
to tell himself.
	The dark, yellowish face of Tomalak filled the screen, larger 
than life. His heavy brow shadowing his dark, almost inhuman, eyes from 
the power of Picard's shock. When his face begin to move into a devious 
smile, or perhaps an evil grin, Picard could feel the giggles move up his 
throat, as Tomalak's ears, pointed as they were, seemed to wriggle and 
then jab him in the sides of his head.
      When he spoke, the moist, heavy air of the Romulan environment was 
close to being visible, even to the sensors for the viewer. "You heard 
me, Captain," he was saying.
      "Tomalak, that's the worst decision you could make in a time like 
this..." Picard said, staring at the screen, still disbelieving every 
word that Tomalak had said. Tomalak, you fool...
     
			    ****** **** ****

      On his own bridge, Tomalak sat only inches from the screen. Unlike 
his Federation counterparts, his transmissions all took place up close 
and personal...mainly to keep his bridge, his ship as secret as possible, 
not giving away information like the Federation fools did, with their 
open, completely shown views of the command centers of the war ships.
      He felt the grin start someplace deep in the cavern of his spinal 
column, shivering as it worked it's way to his face," These are not my 
orders, Captain Pee-card...they come to you straight from the Romulan 
Senate." 
      On his screen, Tomalak could see the entire bridge of the Exeter, 
not that what he was seeing was technology in any state. He was far more 
familiar with the nuances of the Enterprise bridge than he was with this 
piece of history. And so he should be...
      "Tomalak, you want us to withdraw from Romulan space?!" Picard was 
saying, he had been difficult to hear until the systems of his own ship 
kicked the volume up a few hits on the preverbial 'dial'.
      "Now," Tomalak said, reaching to a console off screen. 

		      
	      CHAPTER  THIRTY  SIX      


       "Will, there's no time to explain," Jean-Luc Picard was saying," 
Just get those ships out of there. The Romulans have asked us to leave..."
       Riker was standing, halfway between the command chair and the main 
viewscreen, which showed the two fleeing Borg vessels. The voice of 
Picard flooded the bridge of this ship, the Enforcer. "Understood,"
       He gave his orders, the ship slowed, relaying simutaniously to all 
the other ships, and turned in a large arc and re-engaged at high warp 
heading back to the original base of command in the outer region of the 
V'Larm system.
       Twenty minutes later the thirteen ships slowed to a respectable 
speed, coming up on the position of the Exeter, the command ship of the 
Federation Task Force. Riker still couldn't believe it, the Romulans 
called them off, sending them home, after all the work and pain and war 
they fought to save this quadrant of the galaxy, and now they were going 
home.  Going home after accomplishing what they were told to accomplish, 
not finishing what they wanted to finish, having to let the Romulans do 
that, having to let the Romulans take the credit for the final defeat of 
the Borg 'Invasion Force'.
       He came to the realization that they had been used, used as they 
were before by the Q and countless other species, to do someone elses 
fighting, to die for someone else, to be someone elses entertainment, to 
be someone, someone ungrateful, savior. The Federation was dealing them 
an unfair hand, and their poker face wasn't quite up to the expert eyes 
of William Riker.
 
			     ***** **** *****

       "I'm telling you, Jean-Luc, they sent us here to die...They knew 
full well that the Romulans were going to stiff us once the Borg were 
down for the count...I know it," Riker was saying, sitting in the 
quarters that were deamed his, the Captains Quarters, talking to his 
friend/ his former commanding officer.
       Sipping at his glass of earl gray, Picard couldn't quite put 
together what Will was talking about, though he knew that whatever it was 
it warranted him using Picards first name...something Riker rarely, if he 
could remember right, had never done. "I just don't follow, Will. What if 
you're right? What if StarFleet is up to something? What can we do about it?"
       "Listen. We've been fighting the Borg for more than five years
now, and they insist on leaving us in the dark until the last minute,
every time they show up to conquer the galaxy. I think that either 
the heads at StarFleet or someone in the Federation is doing this for
some unknown reason...maybe they know where the Borg are from, and 
don't want us to know." 
       "And maybe you need a little sleep, Will." Picard said, 
chuckling. He thought that was pretty funny, especially since he 
thought Will was simply talking non-sense.
       "And maybe I'm right." He said, not laughing. Much too serious
for that," Every time we have a dealing with the Borg, it's Admiral 
Necheyev who handles us and what we do..."
	"That's her job, Will....she's the head of Borg intell-
igence."
       "And maybe she's the one holding back on us, maybe she has 
something to do with all this."
       "Will, I don't see what you're all worked up about. The 
Romulans made us pull out and start heading home because that's what
the Romulans want, not because it's what Admiral Necheyev wants."
       "All I'm saying is that someone better keep an eye on her and
those like her, we don't want what happened eighty years ago in the
Klingon Peace Agreement to happen again, we don't need high officials
lurking around giving information to the Romulans...or the Borg."
       "I hear you, Will, but-" and the door buzzer went off, 
stopping Picard in mid-sentence.
       Riker walked over to the door, hit the button...and standing 
there was an ensign, the only one he really recognized, and this one
only because he was the night watch communications officer. The young
officer handed him a pad and said the message came through only a 
minute before, for him only...
       "Thank you, ensign," He said, moving away fromt he door, 
allowing it to close. Riker walked back over to his seat, pulled on
his pants leg and sat down. Thumbing the pad for a moment and reading
intently the contents of the message, he looked up to Picard.
       "What is it?" Jean-Luc asked, moving over to rest on the 
armrest of Rikers' chair, so to look at the pad.
       "It seems the walls have ears," Riker said, still sitting 
there in a state close to neural shock," You won't believe it..."
he said, handing the pad to Picard.
	Jean-Luc moved over to the corner of the room, a spot where 
there was enough light for him to see what the message said. Not 
believing his eyes the first time, he read it a second time, then a 
third. Each time the message said the same thing:


			SHE IS INVOVLED, BUT NOT LIKE 
			YOU THINK. THE MISSION IS ONLY
			A DECADE AWAY. SHE MUST BE STOPPED
			BUT NOT NOW. DROP IT, LEAVE IT BE.
			CONTACT IN TWO YEARS. KEEP IT
			QUIET, BETWEEN YOU AND PICARD.
					THE OPERATIVE.


And he still couldn't believe it.
     "I think we should do as it says, and forget about all this." 
Riker finally said, knowing no matter how long he tried, this message
would always come between him and his captain, Jean-Luc Picard. It
seemed this mission was only asking more questions than it was 
answering.
      "Indeed."


	      CHAPTER  THIRTY SEVEN


     "They've brought us here...You've brought us here, as hostages, 
solely to tell us why you turned on the Borg, I find that hard to 
believe." Odo said, his form not fully, one hundred percent, recovered 
from the effects of the unknown gas.
     "Believe what you want, Offworlder," the woman, at least- the 
feminine looking changling said to him, meaning insult (to add to his 
injury) by calling him something close to an outcast. But leaving this 
place to begin with, he constantly told himself, was your decision not 
mine...I left because you sent me, you made me what I am.
      "Well," Dax said, pulling her arm from the grasp of her Jem'Hadar 
guard. She was feeling a bit aggresive, a bit too aggresive as Odo 
noticed her attitude toward them all shifting to one close to violence. 
He nudged her in the side with an elbow, a changling elbow, one that hurt 
a little more than the soft elbows of true humanoids. She got the point, 
not changing her attitude any," We're here, so explain so I can go home."

			  ***** ***** ***** ****

	"The dampening field on the planets surface has been lifted, 
Captain," Kira said, looking amazed at the readout. O'Brien walked over, 
punched some buttons, looked at the different screens and couldn't 
believe it.
	"She's right, Captain, we have transporter locks on all of our 
people." he said, turning to walk back where he was stationed near the 
back of the bridge. T'Rul stared at him, she obviously didn't like 
O'Brien, but that was okay he didn't Romulans. Too much like them bloody 
Cardies, he thought.
       "Lower shields...beam them out of there." Sisko said, legs 
crossed, his hands securing his position in the center seat. 
       As per usual, Kira went to the corner opposite, taking the 
position of devils advocate," What if they fire on us when we lower 
shields, Captain? Don't forget there're a dozen Jem'Hadar ships out there 
waiting to blow us to your hell." She swaggered that sexy Bajoran freedom 
fighter walk over to Sisko.
       "They didn't lower the shield and allow us to make transporter 
contact if they intended to blow us to hell, Major." Sisko said, putting 
a hand on her shoulder, turning her gently and sending her back to her 
station," Now beam them out of there before they change their minds."
       O'Brien was busily working in the back of the bridge," Captain, 
shields down....beaming them all up now....forty seven crew aboard,sir
..that's all of 'em" he said.
       Sisko stood, turned to O'Brien," Good work, Chief," he spun 
around, taking two steps forward, laying a hand on the shoulder of the 
helmsman," Now, ensign, take us home...maximum warp."
      "Aye, sir."
      The ships moved off, leaving orbit, hitting warp..they were gone.
      And still Ben Sisko and more important Kate Janeway, both had no 
idea what was going on.
      Two minutes after entering high warp, the sensors picked up 
Jem'Hadar ships, twenty of them!, approaching at a speed only point two 
warp over their own. They would over take them twenty minutes after 
passing through to the Alpha Quadrant...Ben Sisko had to find out what 
the hell happened down there.
       The best person to ask was resting, propped against the wall of a 
small cargo bay in the Defiants' lower level section, being treated by 
Doctor Bashir and a guy by the name of Doc Zimmerman from the Voyager. He 
needed their 'ok' to talk to anyone, and once Sisko got it he wasted no 
time getting down there. 
       Only to find that Janeway had beamed over, beating him there.
       Damn, he thought, she really knows how to irritate me..Damn.


	     CHAPTER  THIRTY  EIGHT


      Dax sat, leaning against the wall of the ship, her bare shoulders 
chilled against the cool metal support. She had just begun when Ben Sisko 
arrived," The Borg moved through the Dominion just like they did through 
the Federation a few years ago," she was saying. Bashir was tending to a 
small laceration on her left knee, causing her to wince and stop her story.
      "That's it, you're all back to normal," He said, moving away from her.
      "That's a relief," she replied, then looked back to Sisko and his 
counterpart/commanding officer Captain Kate Janeway. She tried to 
continue from where she left off," The Borg had assimilated a Jem'Hadar 
ship out near the fringes of their territory. The Borg had learned who 
was in control and headed straight for the sunless world of the Founders'...
just like they did to earth when they kidnapped Captain Picard.
      "They also learned the defenses of the Jem'Hadar and those of the 
Founders, but once they got where they were going, they found that the 
Founders' weren't exactly up to being assimilated." she said.
      "You mean they tried to assimilate a...a changling into the 
collective?" Captain Janeway asked.
      "That's what they told us," Jadzia replied.
      "I take it that they didn't succeed at it?" Sisko said, question like.
      "Actually, Benjamin, they did-"
      "What?!" Janeway questioned, stunned and shocked.
      "The Borg did assimilate a changling, just one, one who wanted to 
be assimilated. But the Borg were fooled, the changling was capible of 
extracting information from the collective then cut off the new Borg part 
of its'....of its', what's the word I'm looking for...of its' 
conscienceness." Dax said, explaining the details just as if they really 
meant nothing at all, as if she was describing her first date with Morn, 
if she ever decided to take him up on the offer that is.
       "And what happened then...where they all whisked away by a tornado 
to the Land of Oz...'Oh, Toto, where are we?'..." Janeway said, not 
believing what Jadzia was saying. She didn't mean it to sound as it did, 
she wanted the point that she didn't believe the Founders' or anyone else 
from Gamma as far as she could throw them...but that's not what Dax thought.
      "Captain Janeway, If you want to know what they told me then stop 
talking and listen, otherwise you won't know that they plan to kill us if
we don't head straight for the wormhole and never look back."
      "They're going to attack us?!" Janeway asked.
      "If we head straight for the wormhole and don't deviate before 
then, then we're fine. But if we stop to investigate the Borg debris, 
then we're dead...sir." Jadzia said, making it to her feet.
      "Well we aren't going to have them telling us what to do." Janeway 
said, as if she had made the decision to remain in the Gamma Quadrant 
because the Dominion said they couldn't.
      "Captain," Sisko was saying, protesting anything illogical that 
Janeway was going to say beforehand,"We are going home...straight home."
      To his relief, she replied," I never said we weren't."
      
				**** *****

      "The Jem'Hadar ships are breaking and changing course...heading 
back to their point of origin," The helm officer of the Defiant said, to 
the relief of everyone present.
      Before the mighty ship, a large blue and white disk appeared, as if 
from nowhere, and with no apprehension the six other ships flew into the 
emornous disk, only to dissapear from to the relative onlooker in the 
normal universe...only to reappear across the galaxy, some seventy 
thousand light years away!
       
			       ***** ****

       Sitting around the center table in the 'Pit' in Ops. Dax was 
trying to continue from where she left off,"The Founders' realized 
that the Borg had planned to return to the Dominion after conquering 
the Alpha Quadrant, to assimilate those they could, and destroy those 
they couldn't...and that's what happened: the Founders' had the Borg 
destroyed." she said, finishing her tale, or at least she thought she 
was finished.
       "Now, one minute, Jadzia," Commander Sisko was saying. He had 
been given his position back as commander of DS9, thus getting his 
'field promotion' taken back, he knew that was going to happen: that's 
what a 'field promotion' is.
       Outside the station, three of the starships were gearing up for 
a return to earth, the other three would be, including th Voyager, 
staying in the area to fend off the Marquis, and the slim chance the 
Borg or Jem'Hadar would come looking for someone to fight.
       Sisko finally finished what he wanted to say, after taking a 
moment to think about what, about how he wanted to ask her his 
question," Just how did they 'destroy' the Borg ships? THere were 
three of them, not one, not two, but three...I just don't see how they 
could do that without losing at least a dozen ships in the process."
       Jadzia looked down, knowing that he had asked the one thing she 
had asked the Founders' and the one thing they refused to tell her," 
They wouldn't say how they did it, but I'm sure there is some type of 
residual substance remaining out there in space or not that debris 
that would shed light on it...that's probably why they didn't want us 
stopping on the way home, I can't believe it, that's it: they didn't 
want us to have the information...because...because, maybe...well, 
maybe they're going to try to use Borg technology later..." she looked 
up to him, fear showing in those eyes.
       Sisko understood now, the whole endevour, only one thing eluded 
him, the one thing he couldn't ask now, not that this great revelation 
had just occurred. He knew she was probably right," At least we know 
there is a way to defeat the Borg, we just need to find out how...send 
all our scans of the debris and anything else that seems involved to 
StarFleet Command, they'll understand once you write your report and 
add it to the one Captain Janeway left for us to send." He couldn't 
bring himself to say that Janeway had left a sterling review of the 
officer he was talking to, it wasn't right that he read the report, 
and it wasn't right that he bring it up now, at a time when they were 
most likely on the verge of finding a way to defeat the Borg and their 
evil technologies.
	"I'm already on it," she said heading for the 'lift.
	"This shouldn't take long, maybe a year or two," Chief O'Brien 
said following behind her, he was obviously going to join her in her 
attempt to find something before sending it all away to SF HQ.
	"Well," Sisko said, as the 'lift began to descend,"Just make 
sure whatever you find, that it's the one, we can't afford to say we 
have something, then when they come again...find we have nothing."


	      CHAPTER  THIRTY NINE


      Picard sat in his center seat, only hours from re-entering 
Federation space. He knew how when he was a child and the family would
go on vacations, how the ride to the beach (or whereever they were going) 
always seemed longer than the ride home. For once, the reverse was true, 
time was slowing, almost to a halt for Captain Jean-Luc Picard. The 
thoughts of what had happened back there, the destruction of three 
separate starships, the damage to his own ship, the Romulans forcing them 
to leave, not retrieving the two probes from the romulans (thus leaving 
Federation technology to be inspected by the Romulans), and finally the 
mysterious message from someone at StarFleet. He couldn't put it 
together, how did that fit into everything that was going on around them? 
He just didn't know. 
      Riker had returned to the Enforcer, and was no doubtedly doing the 
same as Picard: mulling over every word and everything that had happened 
in the past two weeks, the time since they had left Golondin 'Cor. But 
Picard couldn't turn his mind away form the message, a message that 
someone knew he would read as well as Riker.
      "Status?" he asked, the night shift now up and running things on 
the bridge. He didn't retire to his quarters when he was supposed to, 
just letting Troi sit in sickbay with Beverly, both worrying about him 
and his time of waking hours compared to time sleeping. SOmething that 
was way off balance, and began to show no sooner that a week before.
      "All systems nominal," the helm officer said, seated in front and 
to the left of Picard. 
      Finally, he rose and headed for the turbolift, there was nothing he 
could do here, just as likely as there was nothing he could do in his 
quarters alone. "Mister Barclay, you have the bridge," he said, looking 
over his shoulder at Reg, who jumped at the mention of his name.
      "Y...yes, sir," he said, stuttering and nerviuos, the normal 
Barclay, it was good to see that some things never change. The doors to 
the 'lift closed and Picard found himself heading to his quarters, where 
he would do what? What, indeed, he told himself. To his quarters where he 
would lay on his bed contemplating every mistake, every error, wondering 
how it could have been different. Lease of all, how they Federation was 
going to handle the forced retreat of the Task FOrce from Romulan space. 
      Through the pictures of death and destruction, through the cloud of 
smoke that formed in his mind, a cloud that took the shape of faces he 
had seen on screen, faces of the dead, those lost under his command. But 
not just the faces that were lost in the battle with the Borg, but those 
of all he had lost in his days: those on this mission, like Ed Jellico, 
those with their encounter with Doctor Soran, including the doctor 
himself and the legendary Captain Kirk, those of the Stargazer, his first 
command, one where he lost most of his crew to an attack by the Ferengi. 
And finally one face was lifted above them all, a face of a yound child, 
a boy of only nine years, his nephew: Rene. That of his brother faded, 
giving strong remembrances of this child, the one that seemed as if his 
own son in these memories. Memories he wished would go away, that he 
could forget, he just store for later use. But that never seemed to 
happen, memories that we tried to forget we never forgot. They're always 
right at the front of our minds, as we try, forcingly, to forget them, we 
are inadverdently remembering them, not letting them go.
     Damn, he thought, I'll never be the same, not with death so close, 
so near to me, so near to those who were so dear to me. Damn...

			       **** **** ****

      Picard awoke from his sleep to only find he had slept through only 
a tiny fraction of time it would take to return to his home, the one that 
had burnt to the ground on earth. But that was nothing now, in the past, 
the house could be rebuilt, it was the lives that mattered, the lives 
because they could never be rebuilt, it just didn't work that way. Unless 
your name is Q.
      But Q wasn't around now, he had nothing to do with this, the 
problems of the past few weeks, the deaths that had occurred in that 
time. Without Q there was no way of understanding what had happened 
to the time, time when everyone was alive and young and didn't have 
the problems that the Borg brung with them. Damn, he thought finally 
making it to his feet, leaving the comforts of a hundred year old bed 
behind.       
      He felt relieved, the worlds problems where no long his, his were 
now the worlds' problems. Picard felt relieved, the whole fiasco about 
StarFLeet only remained, and the message had said a decade before they 
could do anything...a decade, that's quite a long time for an old man 
like me, he told himself.
       But Riker wasn't quite as happy of their situation. Picard knew 
when the buzzer to his cabin went off. After giving the normal," Open" 
command he was apt to deliver, Will walked in. It was Riker, yet it 
wasn't. He seemed worried, almost as if hampered, personally, by the 
message, all else faded, including the deaths that had happened only days 
and hours before.
      "Captain, We can't..." he began, Picard knowing what was coming.
      "Will, we have no choice. You read the message, besides, as far as 
we can prove, the message itself may had been a prank of some kind." he 
said, knowing full well that he was only fooling himself with that.
      "A prank....a message comes to us confirming what I was 
saying...and you say it may had been a prank," Riker said, that nastiness 
that tended to fill his voice when he was upset was in every word he spoke.
His hair seemed messed, not like he had been sleeping, but rather like he 
had been running his nervious hands through it.
      "If it was real, we can't do anything, we don't even know what 
exactly we're looking for. And there's no sense in worrying about it now, 
here in the middle of nowhere." again he fooled only himself, though his 
points were being taken into consideration. Not only by Riker, but 
himself aswell.
      "I guess you're right."
      "I know I am," Picard replied, standing and putting a hand on 
Riker's shoulder. He understood the trouble that was eating away at 
Riker's neurons, the same trouble he was feeling. But with him it was 
woven into the feelings of remorse and grief. But then again he and Will 
had faced the problem of trouble in StarFleet before, about seven years 
earlier...a time that followed enough bloodshed to last each man a life time.
       "I know I am," he repeated, them both heading for the door. 
       "Let's look into it again later, maybe after we find what 
StarFleet wants to do with us," Picard said, letting the topic of trouble 
brewing in SF go for the time, hopefully, though doubtfully, he thought 
perhaps they would forget the whole thing, and find one day in the future 
that the message they had recieved was a prank. I doubt it though, he 
thought, I doubt it...
       "Fine by me, the sooner we can put the Borg and this thing behind 
us, the better," Riker said, a slight smile moving over his face. He 
turned to his former, though only temprary, commanding officer, grabbed 
on the arm and with the most serious look he could muster, one that would 
be difficult under anyother circumstances, said to Picard,"You know we're 
all getting together later, once we get back to Federation space, to look 
around the Enforcer. Unbelievable, my own ship and I don't even want it, 
never have I even looked around it...only on the bridge and my quarters."
       "Amazing, Will, simply amazing," Picard said laughing, his first 
good laugh in weeks, being sarcastic with his former, and would be again, 
first officer. 
      "Then we're going to have a sip of that Romulan Ale Geordi beamed 
off the Rom-" interupted by Picard.
       "Geordi did what?!"
       "I had him scan the Romulan ship that placed the probes around the 
Borg ships. He said there were cases upon cases of either Romulan ALe or 
petroleum jelly aboard the ship. When they went to cloak, I had him beam 
a case aboard...it turned out to be Romulan Ale. What would they be doing 
with cases of petro jelly, anyway?" he said, smiling the entire time.
       "Number One, I don't know if I should write a recommendation for 
you, or have you brigged for that one," Picard said laughing as the two 
walked down the corridor.
       "A sip of the Ale and a game of Poker. Would you join us, 
Captain?" he asked, keeping the captain part loud and annoying like he 
did before Picard would join them, distancing himself from his crew.
       From somewhere down the bend of the corridor, they both heard a 
voice shout," Ah'd be delighted ta join ye,"....Scottie. They knew it, 
and neither minded, it seemed that even in the twenty fourth century, 
this twenty third century man could bring a smile to anyone's face.
       "Very good, Captain Scott." Picard shouted down the hall, 
wondering exactly what Scottie was doing down there. THen to Will," I 
think I'll tag along as well, Number One,".
       "Glad you've come to your senses,...Sir!" Riker cried, on the 
verge of tears. He had a classic case of the little girl giggles. From 
the last few weeks, the one thing no one did was laugh or have fun, and 
now Will Riker was making up more than his share worth. But then he was 
always one to find and have the most fun...


		      EPILOGUE


      "So Commander, have you decided on what-" Kira was saying, but then 
the buzzer sounded. A male Bajoran entered the office, now fully Sisko's 
again, and handed her a padd, she turned to Sisko, smiled, and left. 
Obviously some one needed her, Sisko was slightly relieved, he didn't 
exactly know what she was getting to.
       The door closed as Kira and the Bajoran man left. From the corner 
of his eye, Sisko saw something blink in blue, he turned to see single 
letters start to form words on the viewscreen on the wall in his office.
He waited, the words taking a full thirty seconds to form completely, 
anticapating each one. 

		     IT IS STARFLEET. THE ADMIRAL.
		     CONTACT PICARD IN THE FUTURE.
		     RIKER KNOWS AS WELL, IT IS THE
		     ADMIRAL.

       What the hell does that mean, he asked himself. As he reached out, 
over his desk to hit a record button, the image slowly faded back to 
nothing, leaving him no evidence of what just happened.
       Later, Sisko would have a search done to find where the message 
came from, not letting on to its' contents, he didn't want to seem as if 
he had finally lost his mind. The only information, a week of searching, 
would finally come up with is that the message had been sent, via 
subspace, from Sector 001...earth.

			    ***** ***** *****

       "Let me tell ye abou' tha' ship over there," Scottie was saying, 
taking his third scotch. He wasn't that good of a poker player, but he 
did even worse when he was drinking, but then again he had a reason to 
drink, they all had a reason. It was a time of quiet celebration, the 
defeat of the Borg, well, not quite defeat.
       He glanced out the window, warping through space beside them was 
the USS Exeter. He said," Ah think it was during the second year of our 
five year mission...the first one...and the Enterprise came upon tha' 
ship, and she had not a single crewmember,". He was enjoying himself, 
finding that telling these old stories where just as great now as they 
were a hundred years before," these aliens had turned the whole crew 
inta...inta dehydrated things."
       "Things?" Beverly asked, placing another five in the pile.
       "Aye, they had removed every water molecule from the crew's 
bodies, and turned them inta little cubes...it was the most frightening 
thing...seeing Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy get captured 
by them," he said, shaking his head. He had found out two weeks after it 
had happened, that Jim Kirk hadn't died, but now he was dead. He knew.
       Picard's communicator chirped. He rose and left the room with his 
usual," Excuse me,". Once he was in the corridor, where not a single 
living soul seemed to be walking," Go ahead,"
       Barclay's voice came over the circuit," Message for you from Deep 
Space Nine, sir, Commander Sisko,". What did he want, Picard asked, 
having already known that of the outcome of the Borg ships that were to 
attack from the Gamma Quadrant. It seemed that this Dominion thing was 
far more dangerous than the Borg. But then, he knew the Borg, making them 
seem not quite as menacing as they really were.
       "I'll take it down here," he said, moving over to one of the 
screens built into the wall of the corridor. It seemed safer to take it 
here, where no one was at, than to take the time to go back to the Exeter 
to hear the time delayed message.
       On a screen before him appeared the face of Ben Sisko. He was 
saying," Captain Picard, I was informed by someone that you...quote 'knew 
about the admiral' unquote...Someone's playing games, Captain. I'd like 
to know who, can you help me." The transmission ended as quickly as it 
had begun.
       "Barclay, send recorded message to DS Nine, in code, the 
following: Riker and myself will be on shore leave, may visit out that 
way. Can't help now, wait...message said we can't do a thing for a few 
years. We should just sit back and way for more evidence. I'll explain 
the little we know sometime in the future. Picard out." he said. Turning 
back to the room that was Riker's quarters.
 
			**** **** **** ****

       "Number One, Ben Sisko of DS Nine knows as well," he said, keeping 
everyone else in the room in the dark. Let them try and figure it out, 
they couldn't. He wouldn't tell them, he couldn't, no matter if they were 
friends or not, that was one reason for not saying a word: they were friends.
       "I see," Riker said, thinking for a moment before asking Picard a 
question," Sir, what's are reason for not looking into this now?" he 
asked, obviusly wanting a little reassurance. Picard knew.
       "Because this mission was to defeat the Borg. This matter is a 
whole other mission...for the future." Picard answered.
       "Yes, sir."

			 ***** ****** ******

       "Admiral, I can't help thinking this is wrong," the intern said, 
looking at Necheyev drop the files and disks and iso-chips into the 
StarFleet standard 'Phaser Shredder', a Texas Instruments Version.
       "Your job isn't to think, but to do what I tell you to do. 
Understand?" Necheyev demanded.
       "Yes, sir."


*******************

     That's it in it's entirity, complete and uncut. I hope you enjoyed it.


     SEAN CORBETT


sc