Shadows of the Night, Part XVIII

Twelve X-Wings emerged from hyperspace into what was probably the most intense combat situation they'd ever faced. As was expected, the area was under patrol by the Borg; Cubes, Wedge noted with a sinking feeling. If it was a sphere maybe they'd have a chance, but against those he knew they didn't have a prayer. With no chance to fight them, their only hope was to just outmaneuver them and get to the wormhole in time. It was a race, but hopefully the snub fighters would have the edge.

"Deja vu huh boss?" Tycho remarked over the comm. He and Wedge were the only members of Rogue Squadron to be part of the Rebel fleet that raced past a Borg Cube and into the Milky Way years before. They'd succeeded then with few casualties, but then they'd had help from star cruisers, and there hadn't been two Cubes.

"Hopefully we'll be as lucky as that time," Wedge remarked. "Rogue group, stick with your wingman, and remember: do not deviate from your group. Your first priority is the wormhole." It was a sad fact, but he knew that they probably weren't all going to make it, and in order to ensure the best chance of success he'd given the Rogues strict orders: you stop only for your wingman. The last thing they needed was for the entire squadron to become trapped trying to rescue a single fighter. The stakes were too high to take that chance; without help from the Federation, the Romulans, or the Klingons, the Republic could very well fall.

Wedge noted the distance on his sensor panel as they approached, then pushed the ship to full throttle, trying to shave as much time off this run as he could. The Cubes continued to grow, and he recalled briefly that overwhelming sensation he'd felt on approaching the Death Star; you think your mind can grasp it, but when you actually watch something that big coming at you, you just can't help but be overwhelmed, to feel so insignificant. He felt his palm start to sweat just a little. "We're approaching their tractor beam range," he remarked. "Evasive maneuvers."

Immediately the twelve ships broke formation, their pairs corkscrewing off in various directions as the emerald beams of the Borg sought them out. The channel was alive with voices as the wingmen communicated their status to each other, trying to stay together and yet avoid the Borg. He was drifting closer to the Cube he noticed, but it didn't matter as he dipped and jerked his ship trying to avoid them. Closer... he nearly jumped as the edge of the beam grazed his X-Wing, knocking it off course briefly. He straightened out and avoided a second attempt as he rushed across its three kilometer surface.

"You alright?" Corran Horn asked.

"Nothing to worry about," Wedge said through gritted teeth. The Borg weren't making this easy for them.

"Mayday Mayday!" came the call over the comm and Wedge knew what it meant. "Pash, help me!!"

Wedge's display showed an X-Wing firmly held in the grip of a Borg tractor beam. Ryshati's, from the looks of things. He noticed the other X-Wings and quickly intervened. "You have your orders!" he said painfully. "Pash, help her out, the rest of you stay on course."

While the other ten X-Wings continued their journey a single one approached the other X-Wing. They knew the stakes going in, but face to face with the Borg was still a terrifying concept. Would Ryshati detonate one of her torpedoes rather than be taken by the collective? Wedge wondered if he would. But he watched the pair of bluish white streaks fly into the emitter array and shred it, offering the first bit of good news. Maybe they would make it....

"Pash!" Ryshati said as she got caught in another beam.

"Damn," Corran said over the comm. "What do we do boss?"

"You know what we do," Wedge said with fury at the situation. "On course to the wormhole, absolutely no turning back."

"Come on Wedge, we can't leave her!"

Wedge wanted to pound the console in frustration. "Proceed at full throttle to the wormhole! That's an order, captain!" There was silence, then Corran's X-Wing twisted out of formation and ran back. "Captain! Goddammit, get back here!"

"Sorry boss," Corran said, pushing his fighter on towards the Cube. Seconds later, Gavin and his wingmate did likewise, and Wedge hit the console in frustration.

"Rogues," he said firmly, "through the wormhole and rendezvous at Romulus, per your orders. Anyone who turns back gets a swift kick in the port, you hear me?" He turned back, hoping he could stop this before they got themselves killed, but it was too late. Both Gavin and his wingman were caught in a Borg energy beam, and went up in an expanding white cloud of superheated matter. "Corran!"

"I've got it, boss," Corran answered. He let out a pair of torpedoes and corkscrewed up and away. Wedge watched the torpedoes as they raced towards the Cube, only to explode as the Borg intercepted them. "Damn! Coming around again."

"It's too late," Wedge said, watching the X-Wing vanish into the Cube. "To the wormhole, captain." The two X-Wings formed up and rushed through it, emerging in the Milky Way. There were more Borg ships, but they quickly jumped into hyperspace. Wedge pulled his gloves off and wiped his face, then tossed them down on his lap. "Captain," he said firmly, "you and I need to have a conversation when we get back."

His ship pulled unnoticed behind the fleet of ships as they continued their trip through this portion of space, looking for Borg ships. Looking for Borg, he thought with a smile, they have guts, he had to admit that. He wondered if he'd see them floating through the vacuum of space.

This Federation was proving to be a most interesting diversion. A new ship named "Enterprise" was here, probably to replace the one lost during that battle near the anomaly. He smiled despite himself. That was such a funny thing to see, this tiny ship continually firing its pitiful weapons at the cube, refusing to withdraw despite orders and common sense. Wonder if this one'll meet the same fate, he thought to himself as he made a minor course correction to remain with the group. With the way the Borg were moving, that didn't seem very likely. The Federation was interesting, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't be watching them for much longer. He made a few nav checks; probably be a good time to see what the Borg's new toy was up to.

Still nothing, Luke thought as he began to emerge from his Force meditation. The Borg mind remained too complex to penetrate. He wondered how Picard would do within that mind, and wished he could find some way to assist with this. They were such a terrible threat, and he had to be certain that they were stopped, especially with the recent news that Wedge had brought of the state of affairs back home. If they could get the Borg out of the way then they could focus on these new aliens.

This probably wasn't good for him. He'd been telling the truth when he told Seven why he'd run that program, but something surprised and unnerved him. There was a small amount of... satisfaction, in destroying them. The sight of those blank gray faces and mutilated bodies pushed his buttons. The Force was all about life, but these creatures were so devoid of it, and they destroyed it everywhere they went. He didn't hate them, but in his mind the face of those drones was gradually replacing that of the Emperor as the visage of evil.

As he was almost finished withdrawing he felt something. He was caught off guard and returned to it with a little concentration. Curious, he thought. A mind... ancient, hidden. He could detect no thoughts or emotions, just a vague presence, and it was nearby. "Captain," he said quickly as he activated his communicator, "any ships in our vicinity?

"No," came a reply from a confused Riker. "Why do you ask?"

Luke felt again. There was definitely someone out there. "We're being followed," he said as he set his jaw and headed for the door.

"You sure?" Riker asked quickly.

Luke stepped into the hallway and moved with deliberate steps towards the turbolift doors. "Absolutely."

Immediately the Yellow Alert lights came on as Luke stepped into the lift and headed for the bridge. It opened a few seconds later and Riker got up and looked at him as he stormed down the walkway towards him.

"Cloaked ship?" Riker asked as Luke reached his point and they both checked the viewer.

"Must be," Luke replied. "Borg don't use cloaks do they?"

"No, but with what I've seen lately I wouldn't put it past them." Riker was visibly unnerved by the news that the fleet was being followed. "Where exactly is it?"

Luke stretched out to focus on the mind as best as he could. "One two five mark four," he said finally, "About a hundred kilometers away."

"Captain," Borui said from her chair to the captain's left, "I'm afraid I don't sense anything."

"It's just a presence," Luke said. "Very weak." He returned his focus to the bridge. "Captain, I've spent time learning to use Vulcan mind techniques to enhance my own abilities, that's probably why I can feel it and she can't. I only noticed it by happenstance in the first place."

"Captain," Seven said. "We've seen evidence of a cloaked vessel participating in the battle against the Borg at Yarval Outpost, one which destroyed a Borg Sphere in a single volley. If this is that ship, it may be a threat to the fleet."

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Riker said as he mulled it over quickly. "For all we know it's a Romulan Warbird."

"Captain, there's only a single mind on board, and it's not a Romulan," Luke said. "And if it were Romulans, Borui and any other telepath in the area would have detected that many minds."

"All right," Riker replied after a little thought. "Let's try creating a particle net. Cloaked or not, it's still matter and will break the chain, we can at least confirm it's a real ship."

As soon as the order was given he felt the movement. "The ship's leaving," he said quickly. "Pretty fast too." The signal faded into the distance. "I'm not sure, but I think he was aware of what we were up to."

Riker sat down, fidgeting as he thought. "I don't like this," he said, more to himself than anyone else. "Has he been here before?" he finally asked Luke.

"I haven't felt him until now," Luke said, "But like I said, it was only chance that I felt him at all just now."

"Do you think you'd know if he came back again?" Riker replied.

"Yes," Luke said after some thought. "Now that I'm aware of his presence I'll probably tell if he returns."

"Good, keep me informed." Riker stroked his beard a little as he thought. "I don't like the thought of being spied upon."

The planet of Coruscant was a gleaming silver jewel in space, brilliantly reflecting the light of its distant sun on one side, a glorious pattern of lights across its darkened side. The center of the Republic was a definite marvel to all who came, except for its most recent visitors.

"Madame President!" the aide shouted as he sprinted into her office. "The Borg! The Borg are here!"

"What?" Mon Mothma said in shock as she came around from behind her desk to rush into the adjoining room. She watched in horror as ten Borg Cubes grew larger on the screens that were plastered around the room. In the center of the conference table a hologram was showing their position relative to the planet. She had feared this, but she hadn't actually expected it, not without warning like this.

"Assemble the council," she ordered as she watched their space defenses move into action, but the Borg seemed oblivious to them. After just a few minutes one had been destroyed, and it seemed apparent that there wasn't much time left before those defenses would be gone as well. Of course, they had their planetary shield, but it was plain to see that Coruscant was not a self-sufficient planet, and a Borg blockade could lead to planet-wide starvation.

"The third fleet is in route Madam President," someone announced. "They should arrive in less than an hour."

"Let's hope they're enough," Mon Mothma replied as the other senators came rushing in to the makeshift war room.

"What's the meaning of this?" Fey'lya demanded. "Where are our ships?! Why are they not defending the heart of the Republic?!"

"They're off fighting the Ssi-Ruuk as you had demanded," Mon Mothma replied.

"If you're trying to blame this on me..." the Bothan demanded.

"I assign no blame," Mon Mothma replied. "But I do need your help. Under section fourteen of the New Republic charter I'm asking that the reigns of government be transferred to myself for the duration of the crisis." Another space platform exploded. "I'll let that speak for me," she said.

"I support it," Quedlifu said quickly. "I hope you have some idea of what you're doing."

"As do I," she said quietly. She wasn't sure what she was going to do yet, but she knew that she couldn't afford to have to stop and debate every decision with the council. Under section fourteen she could make all decisions without question to ensure that everything was done as quickly as possible, but it required a two-thirds majority of the committee to do it. Fortunately they saw the reasoning, and within a minute she was formally in control of the entire Republic. "How much time until the fleet arrives?"

"Fifty-one minutes," the aid reported.

"I want a direct line to the defense network now," she said. "And have the planetary systems maintainer standing by as well, we may need to divert power or shut down city services during the crisis."

There was a cheer as one of the Borg Cubes exploded, but unfortunately it was premature. Within minutes the last of the space defense force was destroyed or assimilated, leaving the center of the Republic, the planet that had stood a thousand generations as the headquarters of the galaxy, vulnerable to these aliens.

"Forty-five minutes," the aid reported again as they continued to watch the circling Cubes with horror.

"We will persevere," Mon Mothma insisted.

"Another ship has dropped out of hyperspace," someone reported. There was a stunned silence. "Oh no," he said in horror.

"What is..... it...." Mon Mothma began, and she saw it. The Pyramid grew on the screen, a horrible triangle in space that they knew meant this situation had gone from very bad to unimaginably worse.

"Sithspawn," Fey'lya said in subdued awe. "What do we do now?"

"Message coming in." They knew what it would say, but it played anyway.

"We are the Borg. You will lower your shield and surrender, that we may add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. If you do not comply we will destroy your world. Resistance is futile."

The silence was unbearable. How could it have come to this? they wondered. Capital of the republic, so worn down that their enemies were demanding their surrender.

"Lower the shields," Dx'ono said.

"We can't do that," Mon Mothma replied.

"You heard them," Fey'lya almost shouted, "They'll destroy us!"

"If we lower it they'll assimilate us," Mon Mothma replied. "At least with the shield up we stand a chance."

"Alderaan had a shield!!" Fey'lya cried. "Look what good it did them!"

"This isn't Alderaan and that isn't a Death Star," Mon Mothma replied. "Don't you see, they want us to lower the shields because they want to take us alive. Coruscant has representatives from across the galaxy; with us the Borg will know how to defeat every planet in the Republic, we can't do it."

"You'll be killing countless lives," Dx'ono insisted.

"It is not your decision to make any more," Mon Mothma replied. "If we can improve our shields, direct them towards the tetrahedron instead of surrounding the entire planet, perhaps they can hold it off, at least until the fleet arrives."

"You're gambling with our lives!" Fey'lya insisted.

"We lower the shield and we lose anyway," Mon Mothma insisted. "At least we have a chance with the shields up."

"Forty minutes."

The voice of the Borg returned. "Lower your shield and surrender."

"Do what they said!" Quedlifu yelled.

"Give the shields all the energy they can," she ordered, filling them in on what they were trying to accomplish. "The Death Star took time to recharge. If we can withstand one blast we should make it."

"Impossible!"

"Fey'lya," she replied, her reputation of diplomacy and even-temperedness pushed aside at this moment, "Shut - up!"

"There's a power build up in the ship," a nervous aide reported.

"This is your final warning," the Borg said. "Lower your shield and surrender, or we will destroy you."

"Get ready," she told the technicians, officials, and soldiers who were all listening intently on what to do during this hour of fear.

"They're firing!"

Three thin green beams extended from the corners of the Pyramid to meet just above the final point. From there a beam lanced through the point, growing powerful enough to shatter worlds, as it now attempted to do.

It's a simple fact that in order to stop energy, you need to use energy, which is the principle behind a shield. In this case, the energy produced by the hypermatter reactor of the Borg ship was being pitted against the energy production of the entire planet, the engineers having directed the shield to cover an area of only a few thousand square kilometers instead of surrounding the whole planet. The Death Star, either of them, could have broken through, but the Borg had designed theirs with a much smaller reactor. Instead the beam terminated and the planet was spared, but unfortunately the shields were now down.

"Get them back up!" Mon Mothma insisted as she saw the Borg approach the planet, ready to scoop up and consume the beings and technology of this world.

"They're trying," was the report. They watched in horror as several beams emerged from the Borg ships, cutting into the urban surface of the planet and lifting chunks up out of the atmosphere.

"Try harder."

"Thirty-five minutes."

They watched helplessly as the Borg began carving up their planet, waiting for their turn. Suddenly the beam terminated, and they watched as several thousands tons fell out of the sky back to the planet.

"The shield's back up," came the report, "But very weak. Apparently some of the emitters were damaged."

"Get to work on them then," she ordered. "Who knows how much time we have left."

"Thirty-one minutes."

"Perhaps we should lower the shields," Gavrisom suggested. "The Borg won't have assimilated all that much of the planet in that time."

"But we don't know how long the battle will take," Mon Mothma replied. "We can't take the risk."

"The risk?!" Dx'ono said in disbelief. "You're risking all our lives!"

"We have no choice," she insisted. "We've got to-"

The beam came suddenly, crumpling the shield with ease this time. It cracked through the hard armored shell of the planet like an egg and drilled through the rock, seared through the mantle, and pierced the core. And then it exploded. Twenty-five thousand years this world had been the center of the galaxy. For a lot longer than that, it had been a home. Now it was an expanding void, nothing. The jewel had shattered, and the Borg raced away from the shattered facade. A half-hour later the fleet arrived, finding nothing left to save. The world was dead; the question was whether the Republic had died with it.

Go To Part XIX
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