Shadows of the Night, Part XXII

Luke found himself on the bridge of a Federation ship, but it was empty. "Hello?" he said.

"Hello," came a voice.

"Seven?" he called. "Where are you?"

"Here," she said. "This place. The place where all of me has been, the place of birth and re-birth."

"What do you mean?" Luke asked.

"It happened here," Seven said quietly. "This is where it began. This is where I was assimilated." Luke looked about the bridge. "This was our ship. We lived here." There was the distant sound of a little girl, laughing. "We lived here for a long time. My father did experiments. They were very important, and we had to travel a long way." The girl appeared a moment, froze, and disappeared in a blur. "I had my birthday here. My cake had six candles on it," she said. "And one more to grow on." The room shook, then vanished into darkness.

"And then the men came." There was a discharge, and a red Borg laser pierced the dark. "Papa tried to fight them but they were too strong." There was the sound of a man and a woman, screaming. "I tried to hide; maybe they wouldn't find me because I was little." They screamed Annika's name. "But they did." The drone began walking towards Luke. "Then Papa said we were going to crash and the big man picked me up." The drone emerged from the shadows. "And then suddenly we weren't on the ship anymore. We were somewhere else." It was Seven. "And then I became Borg," she said.

Luke looked into her gray face. "Oh Seven," he said pitiably.

"Would you save me from this?" she asked.

"Yes," Luke said softly.

"What would you do?"

Luke touched her face. "Anything," he whispered.

She shattered like glass, revealing the Seven that he knew underneath. She was the one from his vision years ago, on the escape pod, complete with the revealing dress and visible lightsaber wound through her heart. She looked so grief-stricken. "Don't do this," she said, face lined with sorrow. "You know it's wrong."

"What?"

Tears ran down Seven's cheeks. "One of us must be reborn, Luke."

"I'll protect you," he promised.

Seven shook her head. "If not me, then you, Luke." She looked over his shoulder. "No!" Luke whirled around and saw the flash of a Borg hand coming at his face-

Luke's eyes opened, and he laid back with exhaustion in the pillow. If these were Force visions, he wished they'd stay out of his dreams. If they were just regular dreams, well... well, he certainly didn't mind dreaming about Seven, but he'd prefer if Borg not be involved.

Then he felt the presence again, and all other thought was cast aside. He tossed his clothes on and headed for the bridge.

Captain Riker shook his head. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure exactly," Dr. Bashir said over the holonet. "Apparently the Borg employed some kind of telepathic weapon against the commander. There's no sign of any higher brain activity."

Riker hung his head. "I don't suppose there's any indication she successfully uploaded the program."

"If the Borg were able to launch this attack, I find it doubtful they were unprepared for what she had planned."

Riker nodded. He'd just hoped that maybe she'd gone down swinging, that his decision would have meant something. All he'd done is destroyed one of his senior officers, and removed a critical asset in their war against the Borg. "What's the prognosis on her?"

"I'm not sure where to even begin," Bashir admitted. "But I'll do all I can. Your councilor has requested to remain, given her familiarity with the commander."

"Fine," Riker said with a nod. "Let me know if there's any change in her condition." He cut the transmission and leaned wearily over his desk. He'd lost some of his people at the wormhole... and now he'd lost another. Jean-luc was right, it never gets easier.

Riker walked out onto the bridge to inform the crew; the turbolift door opened. Luke came onto the bridge with a quick gait. "He's back," he said before Riker could say anything.

"How long?" he asked, taking his seat.

"I'm not sure," Luke said sitting down at Borui's chair; she certainly didn't need it at the moment.

"Yellow alert," Riker said, and looked at Luke more closely. "No offense, but you look awful."

"I haven't been sleeping well," Luke replied.

"Understood," Riker said. "Anything?"

"No, he doesn't seem to be responding," Luke said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Finally he opened them. "Nothing," he said with fatigue.

"All right," Riker said, "Let's go with the alternative. Helm, course Zero Six Three Mark Two, ahead Warp One." The ship slipped into hyperspace and moved at lightspeed away from the remains of the fleet. After a few minutes they stopped and returned to what the natives call "real space."

"He's here," Luke said after a short while.

Riker stood up. "Open a channel," he ordered.

"Channel opened," reported Lt. Lightner.

He listened with surprise as the message came over on subspace.

"Greetings on behalf of the United Federation of Planets," the creature said. "We understand you've been taking an interest in us. We'd like to meet with you face-to-face. As you can see, we have no hostile intent, we only wish to talk."

His crosshairs lined up with the ship and his finger sat poised over the firing button as the creature prattled on. One torpedo should take care of them, he thought. Pity, they seemed the best chance that Federation has against the Borg, slim though it is.

Still, maybe he was being hasty. With his cloak they shouldn't have been able to find him, and yet they had succeeded twice. There must be some reason, and it would be in his best interest in the long run to figure out why. He flipped the toggle and the crosshairs vanished. All right, I'll give them a chance, he thought. And he proceeded at sublight towards a nearby planet. If they can detect me, they'll follow me, and if not, then I've got nothing to worry about. His ship accellerated towards the green world.

Like I have anything to worry about from them, he thought with a smirk.

"He's moving again," Luke said. "But slow... I think he wants us to follow him."

"Why doesn't he just answer?" Riker asked.

Luke shrugged. "Maybe that's not his way."

"Well, if this is our friend from Yarval, then it's our best interest to meet him," Riker said. "Lead the way, Mr. Skywalker." He sat back and considered his announcement. Right now they were going into a potential ambush, or a very important first contact situation. They needed to be thinking about that, not about how their hopes to stop the Borg had failed and their fellow officer was lost in the process. He decided to keep it to himself for now... and maybe Dr. Bashir could give him some good news by the time he was ready to tell them.

Admiral Ackbar looked over the strategic situation with General Madine in the converted war room of Home One. With the destruction of Coruscant the Republic was in a shambles and coordinating between the planets was proving difficult. Their situation hadn't looked this grim since they'd faced off against the Empire, in fact things looked to be even worse. The spiral of the galaxy grew until several green dots appeared.

"These systems have been assimilated by the Borg in the past two days," Madine said.

"There must be at least a dozen," Ackbar commented.

"Sixteen," Madine said. "This is the total view over the area as it stands now." The number of green dots multiplied. Ackbar was at a lost for words.

"The Ssi-Ruuk," Madine continued as the galaxy shrunk down temporarily, then returning to the expanded appearance in another area, "have launched attacks all along here. Now, the good news is that they're not terribly well organized; it seems to be just a basic push into Republic territory. They're fighting sloppy and with no clear objective."

"I'm afraid to hear the bad news," Ackbar replied.

"They're fighting like madmen, and they don't seem intent on stopping," Madine said. "Now, we've succeeding in winning every engagement, but we're starting to take some damage. They've resorted to suicide runs on our ships several times. And," he said with a grim tone, "we haven't always been there to stop their attacks. We're losing people, whole planets to them."

Ackbar sighed. Despite all they were doing, the situation was unchanged. They sat trapped between two enemies, both of whom were intent on other consuming or destroying them. Against either foe they could succeed easily, but this... now...

And that was what had been driving him mad. The Borg had seemed to have orchestrated everything perfectly. They knew exactly how to get the Ssi-Ruuk to face off against them, to distract and divide their forces, and then they had succeeded in spearing the heart of the galaxy, Coruscant. Now the Republic was divided and disorganized and easy pickings for the Borg. Fey'lya had called them tactical idiots; it's a shame he wasn't alive to see how wrong he'd been.

"We'll concentrate on taking the war to the Ssi-Ruuk," Ackbar decided. "We have no choice but to try and destroy them; in our current condition, we can't win a war on two fronts."

"Are you sure that's wise Admiral?" Madine said. "The Borg are probably the greater threat."

"Which is why I want to be able to devote my full attention to them when the time comes," Ackbar replied.

"I'm not sure how the systems will take it," Madine said. "They may withdraw their support."

"That's not my concern."

"Begging your pardon, but I'm afraid it is your concern."

Yes, Ackbar slowly realized. There was no one else to take care of that any more was there. Mon Mothma, the organizer, the politican, the negotiator, was gone. All the great leaders of the galaxy, either lost or stranded on the other side of the wormhole. It came down to him, and Ackbar suddenly felt the weight growing even heavier on his shoulders. "Of course, you're right. However, I have to act with the soundest military judgment, otherwise the political question will be moot in the face of our enemies."

Delric Taar stood looking over the latest results of his simulated invasion of a Klingon colony. He had to admit, he was doing it quite well, but since his recent engagement with the Federation shuttle he'd failed to find much joy in the tactics. It was a job that he performed to the best of his abilities to be sure, but his heart wasn't in it the way the recent battle had been. Head-to-head, two men locked in combat with only their wits and their skill facing off; it was so much simpler than all this, but that wasn't why he enjoyed it. There was a freedom to it that he loved, the power of being one with the craft and to have all that power as an extension of yourself.

Taar hadn't felt that way for years, and he knew why. The Borg. They were an affront to all he had stood for, annihilating his men and destroying the fleets he cared deeply for. But the fact was they had taken something far greater away from him: they'd destroyed his love of flying. The terrified times he'd spent in space running and hiding from them, wondering if they were coming after him, it had taken that beautiful thing and turned it into something else, something ugly. And that, he thought, was the greatest crime of all. And while he may have recovered some of that joy once again, he was just as committed as ever to wiping out every last Borg.

He was rather surprised that Grand Admiral Thrawn had entered, and he drew himself up to attention. "Colonel," the Admiral said as he stepped up.

"Yes sir," Taar replied crisply.

Thrawn pulled out a patch from a small silk bag. "For exemplary performance," he said as he handed it over. It was the rank insignia of a general.

"Thank you, admiral," Taar said, taking them with surprise. "But, if I may speak freely..." Thrawn nodded, "I haven't performed the complete field testing."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time for that," Thrawn said, taking a seat and indicating that Taar do the same. "You're probably wondering why you've been shifted about in your duties of late, and the reason, general," he said with a slight emphasis to the word, "is that to be in a command position requires versatility, and an understanding of all the capabilities of men and machines." He paused briefly. "You may not be aware, but disturbing news has come from the spy network. Apparently the Republic is not only under siege from the Borg, but a new enemy as well."

"Another invader?" Taar said with surprise.

"Yes, and the timing couldn't be worse. Apparently the Republic's fleet is stretched to the limits fighting both sides, and I can't see how it can improve, so I've no choice but to accelerate my plan."

"Which is what?"

"Breaking the Borg blockade," Thrawn replied. "I have a fleet of two hundred Star Destroyers ready to face off against the Borg, and believe that with our experience we can lend a critical hand in the expulsion of these vermin from our galaxy."

"But, the Republic controls most of that galaxy; all our territories are here."

"True, but we mustn't forget who and what we are, general. We may live here, but this is not our home. We must drive out the Borg and stop these invaders. But unfortunately that means that I won't be here." He leaned forward. "That's why I need you."

"Me?" Taar said, not understanding where this was going.

"I need someone, someone I can rely on, to command the Imperial forces in my absence."

"Sir," Taar said, unable to find the words to express what he was feeling, "I'm not an admiral..."

"I have admirals," Thrawn replied. "They are squabblers, they're power hungry, they would try to take control of the fleet during my absence, and some are incompetent. You, however, have never allowed your personal goals to stand in the way of your duty. I've watched you these past years, general, I know that you'll do what's best for the Empire, not your career. Also, there's a distinct possibility the Borg may retaliate against our blockade run with an assault on our territory, and we'll need to be ready; I know that you can handle that as well."

Taar rose to his feet. "I shall endeavor to live up to your expectations, sir."

"Good," Thrawn said as he too stood up. "I'll inform the fleet of the situation; we'll be moving out tomorrow. Be on guard, general, the Federation, the Romulans, or the Klingons may also try something in my absence."

"We'll remind them of their place," Taar said with confidence. Thrawn began to step towards the door. "I look forward to your victorious return sir," he said.

Thrawn stopped, and smiled slightly. "I'm quite confident we'll have no problems facing the Borg."

It hadn't been too difficult for Picard once he'd entered hyperspace. Unless the Empire or the Borg had done some surprise expanding during his brief period of Imperial incarceration he could take the TIE Defender to Deep Space 19, and then proceed to the Enterprise's position. And fortunately, things actually worked out well for a change, in that he wasn't shot down immediately, but he did run into a bit of a snag.

"What exactly is the problem?" Commander Goulis asked as he came into the security area where Picard sat.

"He refuses to identify himself sir," the chief of security replied. "And he also refuses to take off that uniform for identification."

Goulis looked impatiently at him. "Look, I've got better things to do with my time than guess who you are. Now you've flown an Imperial ship into Federation territory during a cease fire which means that you can and will be seized and imprisoned if you fail to cooperate.

"Commander," Picard said before things could move any further in the direction of "bad", "I'm willing to divulge my identity, but only to you."

"Don't be ridiculous," the chief of security said.

"Just a moment," Goulis interrupted. He stared hard at Picard. "I don't know what you're up to," he said with a bit of anger in his voice, "But just to move things along I'm going to agree to this." He pulled a phaser off the rack. "But don't think for a second that I trust you."

Picard tried to remain as still as possible as the other security members stepped out of the room and sealed the door. Slowly, so as not to appear threatening, Picard removed the helmet of his flight suit. The commander was surprised to say the least.

"Ambassador!" he exclaimed, not sure what was going on now. "We'd heard you disappeared."

"Yes," Picard said, standing up. "Disappeared right into Imperial hands. Fortunately I managed to escape." He put his hand on the commander's shoulder. "Listen to me very carefully: the Imperials think I'm dead, and it is absolutely essential that they continue to believe that."

"Why?" Goulis asked curiously.

"I'm afraid I can't say," Picard replied. "But believe me when I say that the security, the very existence, of the Federation depends upon it."

Goulis thought briefly. "I'll accept that, for now. You are Jean-luc Picard after all. But if we're going to maintain this deception we'll need to get you into something besides that flight suit." He went over to the storage panel and pulled out a case. "I thought we might still have this." The lid came off with a hiss, and he handed over the large helmet. "We had a Breen trying to break into one of our security areas last year," he said. "Killed himself while awaiting transfer."

Picard pulled out more of the Breen uniform. "This will help me blend in?"

"Better than an Imperial uniform," Goulis said with a shrug. And he was right; and later that day Picard was on a transport ship for the Thirteenth Fleet. Yes, it seemed that things were definitely improving, which was a nice change from the way things had been.

"That's not the Enterprise," Picard said through the garbled helmet as he saw them approaching an Intrepid-class ship. It was imperative that he speak with Skywalker and Riker as quickly as possible to work out the next step for dealing with Thrawn and the Borg."

"No, it's not," the pilot replied. "I'm going to have to drop you off here. It looks like the Enterprise is gone."

Perfect, Picard thought. Just what the devil are you up to, Will, that's more important than waiting for the Borg?

Go To Part XXIII
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