The doors opened, and a quick blast of cold air and snow swept into the elevator. He grabbed the hoodie he had crammed into his backpack and pulled it on. For a moment, he thought he should turn back and choose a different level, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Slipping on his backpack, Jack took his first steps out into the virgin snow. He turned a moment to see the doors of the elevator close. A brilliant beam of light enveloped the lift and shot into the air, and the strange box dissolved into the light. A pulse shot up the infinite beam, and the whole thing faded into darkness. It didn’t matter how many times he had seen it – the site was always stunning. But this time it seemed even more brilliant thanks to the frigid air.

It had been some time since he discovered what that strange device the dying man had given him actually did, and it he still couldn’t quite believe it. As the man lie dying, he just thrust the small electronic pad and blue plastic card in his hands and told him to run. Jack wanted to get some help, the police or something, but the man told him they wouldn’t be able to help. As his assassins came around the corner, Jack heeded the man’s advice and fled. Eventually he discovered that the card and “Clicker” were keys to a seemingly magic elevator that lead to countless realities. Inside the lift were thousands of numbered buttons, each one leading to a different reality. Unfortunately, he didn’t think to take note of where he started, and he was hopelessly lost and unable to get home. So he roamed, exploring the different worlds and hoping to eventually find his own. This reality, 1225 was its number, was definitely not where he was from. But the cold beauty of this place was worth a few minutes of his time.

The air was still, and the sky was totally clear. A smooth blanket of snow covered the rocky landscape, and the light of millions of brilliant stars pierced through the darkness. Jack was taken by the beauty of it all, and stared in wonderment.

Off in the distance, Jack saw a tiny cottage. Feeling the cold, he thought about summoning the elevator, but decided instead to check out the solitary structure. At the very least he could warm himself there, and possibly find out a little about where he was from whoever lived there.

Jack trudged through the hard snow, the crunch of his boots with every step was the only thing to break the cold silence. As he got closer to the cottage, he noticed that it was completely dark – no light leaked from the windows. Even stranger was the chimney – Jack expected to see a plume of smoke wafting from it, especially in this cold. Jack supposed that there could be some sort of central heating, but being so far out in the wilderness, he thought it unlikely. Besides – if that were the case, he would almost certainly hear the rumble of a generator by now.

When Jack finally reached the cabin, it was clear that it had been abandoned. The snow had covered the simple stone walkway that lead to the door and piled up several inches against it. Had anyone actually lived there, Jack was sure that this would have been cleared. Still – he knocked anyway, loudly announcing his presence before he tried the door. It was unlocked.

“Hello?”

Hearing no reply, Jack crept into the tiny cabin and looked around. It was quite cozy, a large fireplace dominated the room, and a thick plush carpet covered the floor. A large couch sat right in front of the fireplace, and was draped by a thick throw blanket. The furniture was soft and inviting, if a little small, but from the musty smell and the dust that covered the room it was clear that no one had been there in some time. Jack scanned the room for a light switch but all he found were some half melted candles and some matches.

Once he got the candle lit – he scanned around the room. Moving shadows obscured a lot of the details, but this was clearly not a modern era. Jack didn’t see anything powered by electricity at all – no radio or television, no appliances of any kind, no lights – only candles places strategically around the room.

Jack made his way over to the enormous fireplace. There was a stack of wood to the side, along with a kindling box. Jack lit the candles near the fireplace, and set to work lighting a fire. He figured if the house was abandoned, no one would mind if he warmed up and got a little rest here before moving on. It may be cold outside, but it was relatively peaceful. It had been some time since he got a good night’s sleep. Since he had no idea where he would end up next, he decided to make the most of this opportunity. A nice meal would have made things better, but he doubted he would find anything to eat here. And even if he did, there was no telling how old the food would be. It wasn’t worth taking the risk.

After struggling to open the flue, Jack managed to get the fire started. The wood was dry and ignited quickly. After beating the dust off of the couch and throw, Jack curled up and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a nice big bowl of soup….

The footsteps finally stopped, but he could hear whatever was on the roof struggling with something. Then with a loud thump, something slid down the chimney and crashed into the fireplace. A thick cloud of ash billowed out of the fireplace into the room, spreading burning embers all over the place. Terrified, Jack knew he should run, but he was paralyzed with fear.The cloud settled, and Jack heard a low, staccato growl. He took a step back towards the door as a pair of glowing eyes twinkled at him through the soot. The creature emerged from the fireplace and rose up on its hind legs, snarling gleefully. It was enormous – Jack had no idea how it could have fit in the fireplace, let alone made it down the chimney. But since the creature just landed on burning coals without even flinching, there was clearly something more dangerous about this beast than its size and ferocity.

It stood nearly eight feet tall, and was covered in long, shaggy fur. The fur was white, but so much of it was stained with blood that you could almost call it red. The white-red fur was caked with ash and soot from the chimney and much of the hair was singed and burning from its trip through the coals. As the creature breathed, the frozen air shot out of his nostrils like smoke that swirled and circled around its head.

The creature bounded forward and Jack stumbled away. It rose up again on its hind legs and growled once more – an evil, stuttered growl that sounded like a laugh. Its large abdomen jiggled at the sound. Desperate, Jack grabbed at a chair and flung it at the terrible beast. It lashed out angrily, swiping at the chair and shattered it into a thousand splinters. The great beast summoned its full height and let out an ear-splitting roar.

Jack’s eyes darted about the room, looking for an escape. The creature blocked his path to the exit, so he scrambled back to the kitchen area. There was no door there, but there was another large window covered by a shutter. He fumbled with the latch, but he couldn’t budge it. A menacing snort behind him told him that his time was up.

A meat cleaver sat unmolested on the counter. Knowing it was ultimately futile, he snatched up the blade and waved it at the creature. His back was to a wall, literally and figuratively, and Jack knew that if he had any chance at all, he was going to have to get around the monster. As the creature slowly stalked him (Jack could swear it was smiling), he mustered up his last ounce of courage and sprang forward, swinging the cleaver wildly. Unimpressed by the display, the creature swatted Jack away as he came into range, sending him flying across the room. Jack collided into a wall and crumbled on a countertop. 

He looked around and saw several of the small men rush towards him, to push him back down. He could sense no malice from them, so he willingly complied. The pain was more than he had expected, so he would have ended up on his back again anyway.

“Elves,” he chuckled quietly. “I wonder where Santa is.”

“Santa?” Jack opened his eyes again and saw one of the elves sitting on the arm of the couch at his feet. The elf was almost exactly how you might imagine Santa’s helpers to be – short and pale, with pointed ears, wearing a green suit with matching hat and shoes. In almost every way, the elves looked like children of ten or twelve years, but their eyes showed a wisdom of someone much older. This one like all the others looked emaciated, and his cloths were worn and tattered. It was obvious that life was not easy for this elf. He still had a twinkle in his eye though, and had a quizzical look on his gaunt face.

“What is a Santa?”

I chuckled again, and tried to sit up a little. The pain was unbearable, so I settled for leaning on my shoulder, looking up at the diminutive man. “You mean who? Well, Santa… well, once a year, Santa bring toys to all the good children of the… world…”

The elf had a strange look on his face that stopped Jack mid sentence. He realized that Santa was a little difficult to describe to someone who had no idea who he was. Who had never heard of Santa Claus after all? The youngest child knew who the jolly elf was. Jack realized that there were differences between realities, but in a frozen wasteland that could well be the North Pole populated by literal elves – how was it possible that they didn’t know of Santa?

“He brings toys to children? Why?”

It took some time, but I told the elf everything I knew about Santa, all the stories I could remember. About how he lived at the North Pole and had a workshop filled with elves who built toys, and how once a year he loaded his sleigh and delivered those toys to the children of the world in a single night. He listened intently to everything I had to say. After I finished, he sat and thought for a few moments.

“So this Santa, he was the leader of the elves?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied. “Some people think he is an elf himself, others look at him as just a man. But either way, you could say he was the elves leader. But he really is more of a symbol. But then, it is only a story.”

Despite my efforts, the elf seemed less interested in the whole meaning of Christmas angle than just the importance of Santa himself, and the powers that he had. Pukk, as the elf was called, peppered Jack with questions for what seemed like hours. Jack himself was surprised at the depth of lore about Santa Claus. No wonder it was so difficult to explain: there were so many conflicting Santa Claus stories that it was nearly impossible to describe the man in a line or two. Pukk listened intently, and his fascination wasn’t surprising – the story of Santa told of a society of elves exactly like them, but one that had peace, security, and comfort. Perhaps Santa had something to do with this?

Their discussion was finally interrupted by another elf – slightly shorter with nearly black skin and bright-red lips. The second elf had the same young features, but his face was marked by several scars that Jack later learned were inflicted by the Pyhäraapia – the beast that had attacked him long ago. So Jack wasn’t the only one to survive an attack by that creature.

“The house is secure Pukk,” Piet reported.

“Our supplies?”

“We are two days out from Laughing Valley, assuming the weather holds. Krampus is leading a hunting party to shore up our food stores just in case, but we should have more than enough. Again, assuming the weather holds.”

The elf perched on the arm of the couch nodded, and Piet left. While they were talking, another elf – a much smaller girl, handed Jack a warm mug filled with a thick, fragrant liquid that reminded him a little of egg nog. After a couple sips, Jack immediately felt better. The pain in his back dulled, and he felt strong enough to sit up.

“What happened?” Jack finally asked. “What attacked me?”

“That was the Pyhäraapia,” Pukk explained. “You were a fool to fall asleep with a fire going like that! It was like asking to be attacked!’

“I am sorry,” Jack explained. “I’m a stranger here. I didn’t know about it.” Jack looked around nervously. “What if it comes back? Why didn’t he kill me before?”

“It was the cinnamon,” Pukk explained. “The Pyhäraapia is allergic to it. We found you on the kitchen counter covered in the stuff.”

As it turned out, the Pyhäraapia fed on the elves almost exclusively. For years it has hunted the elves and destroyed their entire way of life. The elves used to live in small family groups, scattered all across the area, but mostly concentrated in the Laughing Valley. Cottages like this one dotted the landscape, the families that lived in them only meeting on rare occasions. This group was like dozens of others across the land journeying to the far north, an annual Festival where the different tribes of elves gathered for trade and socialization.

The Pyhäraapia seemed impervious to fire, though the smell of cinnamon was almost a foolproof ward. It usually attacked indoors, when the entire family was sleeping. Sometimes the smell of cinnamon wasn’t enough to keep the creature away, so the elves became nomads – traveling in groups for protection. They always posted a watch, and rarely slept in the same place twice. The smoke from a fire seemed to attract the creature, so they only lit one in safe, well defended places, and only when there was plenty of cinnamon available to ward the creature off, and enough elves to stand guard against attack. This house was the home of one of the first victims of the Pyhäraapia, and it served as one of the way stations for bands of roving elves.

The door of the cottage burst open and a few elves stumbled in, carrying a wounded elf on their shoulders. Two of the elves gently lowered their comrade to the floor, and Pukk leapt off the couch and rushed to his side. The other elves in the room scurried around, and soon his wounds were being washed and bandaged.

“What happened Krampus?” Pukk demanded.

A black-clad elf with dark reddish skin slumped against the wall with exhaustion. He slowly unstrapped the enormous shield from his back, and set his weapon on the ground next to him. Instead of the spear that most of the elves carried, he wielded a staff that was just a bit taller than he was, topped by a bunch of thick sticks that were tightly bound at the head of the staff. Jack wasn’t sure if they were decorative or not, but they were long enough to cause real damage if the staff was whipped properly. Jack learned later that this weapon was called a virgács, and Krampus was one of a very few elves who could wield it effectively.

“It was the damned beast,” Krampus spat. “It was still in the area, and pretty ticked off. I don’t think he liked his meal interrupted.” Krampus glared at Jack out of the corner of his eye.

“Anyway, it got Rumpel – damn thing swallowed him whole. Ruprecht here got a couple cleans shot with his bow that drove the beast off, but he paid the price. He’ll probably be ok, but he’ll need some time to mend.”

“The weather will just have to hold,” Pukk said after a moment’s thought. “We can’t afford to send another party out. We will have to let Muori know that we need to ration starting now. One bad storm and we’ll starve.”

“We are so close,” Krampus groaned.

“No reason to get lax,” Pukk replied, forcing a smile. Now that Ruprecht was patched up, a few of the elves eased him to his feet and lead him towards the back of the cottage. Pukk stood and watched them go and soon became lost in thought, staring through the door.

“I am sorry,” Jack said, approaching the distracted elf cautiously.

“What?” Pukk stammered, snapping out of his revere. “Sorry? What have you to be sorry for?”

“I can’t help thinking that this is my fault. I didn’t have to come here, light that fire and sleep in this cabin. I brought the creature here, and your –“Jack paused for a moment, trying to find the right word – “elves paid for it.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Pukk shot back. “We were coming here anyway, and the Pyhäraapia in the area. If anything, by finding you we were warned it was in the area. This could have been a lot worse. No, the Pyhäraapia is just a fact of life here. He takes who he wants. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you end up as food.. Krampus is taking it hard, which is to be expected – he doesn’t like losing elves. I wouldn’t let him bother you. He understands the reality of our lives, and will come around soon enough.”

Pukk walked close to me when he was able, but frequently he was approached by one elf or another, with a question or a report. It seemed clear that he was the leader of the band and from what Jack could tell, he seemed to be a pretty good one. Rarely did he get angry or emotional, he never dismissed anyone who approached him, no matter how silly their concern might be, and his responses were always measured and well-reasoned. He was the palest of the elves – the cold air made his nearly white skin almost glow red, the tiny white tuft of hair on his chin offering almost no protection.

Krampus was almost the opposite of Pukk – and very different from most of the elves. He was passionate – looking into his eyes you could see a wild spark. He wanted to run and to fight. It must have taken unbelievable self discipline to rein that fire in. Unlike the other elves in the party, he would argue with Pukk, often quite passionately, Though Pukk never once raised his voice he stood firm, and Krampus always backed down. It seemed that as passionate as Krampus was, he ultimately respected the more reasonable Pukk.

The weather held, and Pukk was pleased about the pace the caravan was keeping. Piet soon approached Pukk and unfolded a tattered map, and pointed to a rocky ridge in the distance. Pukk listened to the soft-spoken elf intently.

“That ridge puts us only a couple hours from Festival, and should provide some shelter if we get hit by snow. We should arrive there before nightfall if we keep this pace.”

“Very well, Piet,” Pukk said. “Take Čertanděl and scout ahead – find a safe spot to make camp in the ridge.”

Piet nodded, and he and the second elf took some supplies from one of the sleds, strapped them to their backs, and started to jog towards the ridge ahead.

“What happens at Festival?” Jack asked Pukk, who was watching the pair scramble off.

“Hrm?” Pukk replied, distracted, turning back to face me.

“Festival. Why do you go there? What happens?”

“It’s a gathering of elves – once each year in Laughing Valley,” Pukk explained. “A long time ago, most of the elves lived there in relative peace and security, until the Pyhäraapia appeared. It laid waste to entire villages, forcing those who survived to flee.

“We all travel in small bands now – hunting for our food and staying on the move as often as possible. Scattered as we are, the creature can only attack a few of us at once.”

“Couldn’t you just fortify your villages? Post guards?”

“We tried that,” Pukk replied. “It became impossible to maintain ourselves that way. Large communities had specialists like farmers who grew our food in large greenhouses. But the Pyhäraapia would attack the farmer, crashing through the glass and destroying a crop. People starved. The creature only needed to kill a certain number of important elves and a whole community would fall to pieces. The only ones who had a chance at survival were the hunters, who moved in small bands and could drive the creature off if he attacked. The elves that survived were the ones that kept moving, and could fend for themselves.

“We still go back to Laughing Valley once a year, to connect with other bands, share information, and trade. We share stories about our encounters with the great beast, track its movements, and find out new ways to stay alive.”

“How can you be so sure there is only one of those things out there?”

Pukk sighed, and looked thoughtful for a moment.

“The Pyhäraapia is a magical creature. No one has ever seen more than one, and no one has ever killed it. Oh, some people claim to have, but they never have any kind of proof. It’s been wounded – that much is certain, and the scars from these wounds are one of the reasons we know there to be only one.

“Each band carefully records every encounter with the creature, and shares their experiences at Festival. One band would somehow manage to wound the beast, and on the same night, another would report they were attacked on the very same night by the Pyhäraapia – who bore the very wound that was inflicted before. Sometimes these bands would be miles away from each other at the time. Not only does the beast seem impossible to kill, but it moves incredibly fast when it travels. Dozens of bands spread across the region frequently report encounters on the same evening. There are some who believe that there is no limit to how many bands it could attack in a single day, if it so desired.”

The story seemed incredible, and Jack couldn’t believe that any creature could do so much alone, but Pukk was adamant. They knew there was but one, and this was something that Jack had to accept.

“What did your Santa do about the Pyhäraapia?” Pukk finally asked, while Jack digested what he had learned about the creature.

“I have no idea,” Jack replied, sad he had nothing useful to offer. “I’ve never even heard of a Pyhäraapia. It’s possible it doesn’t exist at all where I come from, even in legend.”

A faint, staccato snarl interrupted the conversation, and the entire caravan suddenly froze. Heads popped up and looked around frantically.

“Move!” Pukk ordered, forcing the caravan to start again. He ran to the rear and stopped next to Krampus, who’s eyes were fixed on a hilltop behind them. The Pyhäraapia stood on top of it on its hind legs, snarling loudly. The sounds of its ominous growls were so loud that it seemed like it was already on top of them.

“How long to the ridge?” Krampus asked, his eyes locked on the beast.

“At least an hour at our pace,” Pukk replied.

Krampus nodded. “Go.”

The Pyhäraapia suddenly darted forward and rushed down the hill toward the caravan. Jack couldn’t believe how fast the creature moved – but to hear Pukk tell it, it was moving down the hill at almost a crawl. As Pukk turned and urged his people forward, Krampus took the enormous shield off his back and laid it down on the snow. Using it as a sled, he jumped inside of it, and raced down the hill towards the approaching beast.

“No!” Jack cried, starting after the sledding elf.

“Let him go!” Pukk exclaimed, rushing back to Jack’s side, pulling him away. “Move!”

The caravan surged forward towards the ridge, separating as people scrambled as fast as they could. The reindeer and the sled drivers galloped forward, outpacing the elves that scrambled through the snow. Jack looked back and saw Krampus nearly collide with the rushing beast at the bottom of the hill. He leapt off the shield and twirled his virgács around, parrying the angry beast’s claws. That was the last Jack saw of Krampus as he was forced to chase after the caravan which was heading down the hill on the other side.

The band of elves sprinted towards the ride with their sleds, and though it took much less than an hour to get there, each moment seemed like an eternity. The growls of the creature engaging Krampus gave a feeling of security – even though most felt that Krampus was lost, every moment the Pyhäraapia fought the elf brought the group closer to safety. The silence soon came, however, and as the ridge grew ever closer, the caravan feared it would not make it. Thankfully, they arrived at the rocky sanctuary and rushed into a large cavern at the entrance to which a fire was already burning. The smell of cinnamon was overpowering – Piet had tossed some cinnamon branches in the fire and the smell filled the cavern and the surrounding area.

The band huddled in the cave – the sleds were unloaded, and furs were rolled out for sleeping. Several elves stood ready, spears and bows in hand. For a long time, Pukk and Jack stood near the fire at the entrance to the cave, looking out for any sign that the beast had followed them, or Krampus had somehow escaped. As time passed, the weather got worse, and soon a blizzard started in earnest. Pukk sighed sadly.

“Why did he do that?” Jack asked. “Cinnamon drives that creature off, wasn’t there another way?”

“The smell has to be overpowering,” Pukk replied somberly. “The Pyhäraapia is allergic, but it takes a lot to force it off. In a cave or a house, the scent lingers and gains potency. Out in the open, it would have taken more than we had on hand to drive it away, and it would have taken too long to build a fire that large. Krampus knew we had to stall it long enough to get the caravan to the ridge. He did the only thing that could be done.”

“But the cabin!” Jack exclaimed. “I was just covered in a little bit of powder, and that was enough!”

“You were unconscious, and it wasn’t about to eat you covered in the stuff,” Pukk explained with incredible patience. “That didn’t stop it from entering the cabin and wrecking the place and you along with it. We don’t have enough powder to protect everyone, and that would only stop it from eating us, not killing us.”

Jack looked down, and shook his head. He put his hand on Pukk’s shoulder, trying to comfort him, but got no response. Pukk just started out of the cave into the frozen waste, watching for something that would tell him what happened to Krampus. Jack turned back into the cave, and tried to get his mind off his guilt by helping the elves unload their sleds. The work done, he leaned up against a large boulder near the fire and pulled the Clicker out of his pocket.

The familiar compass arrow pointed back in the direction of the Shaft that brought him to this reality, right below the number 14,786. He never did figure out what unit of measurement the Clicker used to determine distance, but he knew that 14.786 was a long way. If he had been in his right mind at the time he would have gone back to the Shaft and used the Clicker to summon the elevator instead of going with Pukk’s band, but there was little he could do to change that now, especially with the Pyhäraapia on their tail.

A small elf sat next to him, and set a large empty sack on the ground beside him. The elf was hairy, but almost certainly a child. His skin was brown and dirty, and he wore a tattered brown cloak. He looked inquisitively at Jack’s glowing pad.

“What’s your name?” Jack asked. The elf boy looked up at him.

“Schmutzli. What’s that?”

“It’s a Clicker. It tells me how to get home.”

“Hrm,” replied Schmutzli, transfixed by the glow. “How does it do that?”

“Well,” Jack explained, “this arrow points in the direction I need to go, and that number tells me how far I need to travel.”

“Ah. But how does it do that?”

“Do what?” Jack asked, confused.

“Glow!”

Jack realized that these people had never seen any kind of electronics before.

“Well, you see, there is a battery inside that stores energy, and that energy powers the screen here. A sensor detects the hole in reality that the Shaft passes through…” Jack stopped when he saw the look of confusion on Schmutzli’s face.

“Magic, it works by magic.”

“I knew it!” Schmutzli declared, his face beaming. “Drapp didn’t believe me, but I was right!” Schmutzli got back to his feet, snatched up his empty sack, and ran over to a group of elves that were intently watching the exchange.

Jack tucked his Clicker in his backpack, and leaned his head against the wall. Very soon, his eyes got heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

Outside, Krampus had fallen to his knees, and his shield had clattered against a large rock behind him. His virgács, splintered and cracked, was laying in the snow beside him and the side of his face was caked with blood. The trio lifted Krampus to his feet and carried him into the cave. Piet rushed back out to retrieve the broken virgács and shield.Krampus was set down on a pile of furs, and several elves crowded around him. Pukk patiently had everyone clear out, explaining that Krampus needed space. Pukk called for an elf named Budelfrau to clean Krampus’ wounds, and a diminutive woman rushed to his side with rags and a bag of water.

“What happened?” Pukk asked Krampus gently. Krampus groaned as he tried to sit up, but Budelfrau placed her hands on his shoulder and eased him back down.

“The beast knocked me silly,” Krampus said, his voice labored. “I held it off for a little while, but I slipped on a patch of ice, and it knocked my virgács out of my hands. I picked up my shield but before long, it had swatted that away as well.

“Lying on my back, the damned thing rising up above me, I thought I’d had it. But at the last moment I reached over and grabbed my virgács, which I found beside me, and jabbed it up at it. He was coming down with his jaws – the tip went right in its mouth – stabbed it real good in the throat. It howled – and ran away. I blacked out for a little bit after that – by the time I came to, it was gone.”

Pukk tried to look serious, but he couldn’t conceal the relief on his face. He told Krampus to rest, let everyone else know that they were to give him some space, and left the wounded warrior in Budelfrau’s care.

“One lucky hit and it fled, unthinkable!” Piet said to Pukk after they left Krampus’ side.

“Why is that so strange?” Jack asked. Piet shot an irritated look at Jack.

“We’ve tried to kill the beast before,” Pukk explained patiently. “It’s been battered, cut, and wounded, but it just keeps coming. Eventually it decides to flee if wounded and facing numbers, but it heals so quickly. A couple hours later you wouldn’t know he had been hurt. Krampus got a good hit in, but he was wounded and down. It should have killed him.”

“The mouth is sensitive,” Piet suggested. “Maybe it was just a once-in-a-lifetime shot to the back of the throat, and that was enough to put the beast off him for a bit?”

Jack eyed Krampus’ virgács, and saw that the sticks bound at the top were caked with blood. An idea occurred to him.

“What are those made of?” Jack asked, pointing at the virgács. Pukk and Piet looked confused for a moment.

“Cinnamon branches,” coughed Krampus, who had been listening to them. Pukk and Piet looked at each other in surprise.

“You said the thing was allergic to cinnamon,” Jack asked hurriedly. “Maybe it’s flat out poisonous. What would happen if you made some kind of paste? Coated your spear tips with it?”

Pukk looked thoughtful at that suggestion.

“Could that work?” Jack asked. “Would that kill it?” Piet and Pukk just looked at each other, puzzled.

“It will work,” Krampus said, staggering to his feet. Budelfrau tried to get him to stay on his back, but he pushed her away. “I should be dead. One hit shouldn’t have stopped him, I don’t care if I jammed a spear all the way down his throat, that wouldn’t have been enough to stop him – we have hit it with worse before. The big ape is on to something here.”

“What do you want us to do?” Piet asked incredulously. “Attack the Pyhäraapia? That’s suicide!”

“We’ve got to do something!” Krampus raged. “With that storm out there, we aren’t going anywhere. The beast is ticked off, and it knows where we are. It is going to come back. You know as well as I do that the fire doesn’t always stop it when it is angry.”

Pukk stood silently, mulling over what Krampus was suggesting. Piet had a look of horror on his face, shocked that Pukk appeared to be considering such a drastic move, but too meek to say as much.

“Make the paste,” Pukk said, his eyes fixed on Krampus. “Dip the spears. Krampus is right – there is no telling how long this storm is going to last, and it’s worth a shot.”

Piet stood stunned for a moment, but quickly turned to find Muori, and gathered some elves to help grind the bark off the cinnamon branches. Krampus remained standing, and though unsteady, he still looked strong.

“I’ll take Ruprecht and Čertanděl. We’ll find a place to set up an ambush. We’ll light a fire and –“

“No,” Pukk interrupted. Anger flashed briefly in Krampus’ eyes.

“I thought –“

“We can’t lose you,” Pukk explained. “You are wounded and need rest. If this doesn’t work, the caravan is going to need you to get them to Festival safely. You saved us once, and I am not going to throw this band’s best asset away for a plan that might not work.”

“But you need me for this!” Krampus exclaimed. “I’m the best fighter we have here!”

“Are you? Really? In the state you are in?” Pukk countered angrily. It was the first time Jack had ever heard him raise his voice. Krampus bristled at the criticism, but remained silent. “You can barely stand right now, let alone face the beast.

“We’ll go out there, and try Jack’s idea. If we fail – at least one of us will fall, and that will probably satisfy the beast enough that he will leave the caravan alone and move on. That will allow you to get the rest of the band to Festival unharmed. Even if the plan is farfetched, the sacrifice is a smart one. It’s better to risk losing a couple of us out there than to have it attack us here in the cave, where we can lose so many more.”

Pukk’s voice softened, and he put his hand on Krampus’ shoulder. “We all know you are brave, and I know you would die to protect this band. You have proven yourself. But use your head – you know this is the way it has to be. We need you here now, we need you to rest and regain your strength so that you can get the rest of us to Festival in one piece. I will go and take Ruprecht and Čertanděl with me. And Jack,” Pukk added. “It was his idea, he should see it through.” Before Jack could even think to object, Pukk looked him in the eyes. “He feels guilty enough for what happened to Rumpel, I am sure he wants to take advantage of this opportunity to lift some of that weight from his shoulders.

Jack stood in quiet disbelief, but he found himself nodding. He couldn’t help it – Pukk had an air of authority about him. Not only did people want to do what he said, but he had a strange way of making people believe in him. This case was no different. Jack was terrified of the beast, and was sick of being frozen. He wanted nothing more than to pack it up and head back to the Shaft, and get away from this wasteland. But Pukk had a point – Rumpel had died in part because of him. And Pukk and his band could have left him to die there, bleeding in that cottage, but they didn’t. They took the time to patch him up, welcomed him in their caravan. Krampus saved his life once again by rushing to fight the Pyhäraapia before it could reach the fleeing band. He owed them, and found his heart agreeing with the decision his head already made by nodding.

Krampus stared at Jack with cold calculation, sizing up the metal of the newcomer. Nodding his assent, he carefully knelt down and laid on the furs Budelfrau had laid out for him. He crossed his arms and closed his eyes, and lay stoically while Budelfrau went back to tending to his wounds.

The four set to work building a fire, using some dry branches they brought with them to get it started. The blizzard had calmed somewhat, but a light snow still flurried down on top of them. Ruprecht foraged for some more branches – not only to make the fire bigger, but in the hopes that he would find some branches dry enough to burn, but wet enough to make the fire nice and smoky. They were satisfied that the fire would attract the creature.

Once all was ready, Ruprecht and Čertanděl grabbed their bows and climbed on top of the tall rock wall. Pukk handed Jack a spear, took one for himself, and scattered the rest around, propping them up against the rock wall or against small boulders. He explained that they may have to hit him several times, and the additional spears needed to be within easy reach.

They didn’t have to wait long. The familiar laughing growl was heard in the distance, and the four steeled themselves. Soon, the blood-stained creature emerged into the fire’s light and bared its teeth. Jack could see immediately the effect of Krampus’ blow – the left side of the beast’s snout was swollen completely shut. Pukk noticed it too.

“Look at its mouth,” Pukk said. “That should have healed by now.” To emphasize the point, the Pyhäraapia carefully advanced, and it was obvious that it wasn’t as steady on its feet as before. Pukk readied his spear, and motioned for Jack to do the same. Above, Ruprecht and Čertanděl drew their arrows back and waited.

Carefully, as they planned, Jack and Pukk circled the fire in opposite directions, drawing the beast in. They expected it to lash out at any moment, but something gave the creature pause – it was as if it sensed the trap. Eventually instinct took over, and the beast clumsily surged forward towards Pukk, baring its teeth.

Ruprecht and Čertanděl let their arrows fly, both striking true, burying their tips in the Pyhäraapia’s hide. It howled in pain, and its back legs collapsed almost immediately. It quickly recovered, and turned to retreat. Pukk wasted no time, and charged the beast with his spear. Jack looked up and saw the archers’ mouths open in stunned amazement. Finally Ruprecht recovered, nudged his partner, and they strung another arrow, and waited for a window.

Pukk grimaced as he plunged his spear in the beast’s side. The beast howled again, and Pukk’s spear cracked and broke as the beast tried to twist away. Blood squirted from the wound, and Jack could swear that it was steaming. Jack struck with his spear clumsily – he hit the beast, but the spear bounced off the hide with barely a scratch. The Pyhäraapia swatted Jack away, and nearly ran right over him in his attempt to get away. Two more arrows appeared in the beast’s hide, and it tripped over Jack, falling face first into the snow.

The cinnamon was clearly working. The Pyhäraapia’s menacing growl was replaced with a pitiful whine. The aromatic poison coursed through its veins, but it fought on, and tried futilely to pull itself up. Two more arrows knocked it back down. Pukk, with another spear in his hand, crossed to the front of the beast. He looked and saw unrestrained hate in the creature’s glossy eyes. With a grimace, Pull plunged the spear into the beast’s shoulder.

The Pyhäraapia groaned meekly, and its head dropped. Several more arrows plunged into its hide, but it stopped moving all together. The poison had worked. Pukk stood silently, gazing sternly at its body. Finally he turned and helped Jack to his feet.

“I’m sorry,” Jack stuttered, embarrassed at his atrocious showing. “I just… I didn’t…”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You were here,” Pukk explained. “You weren’t born with a spear in your hand, but you were brave enough to stand with us and face the beast. And you came up with the idea that let us kill it. I should be the one to apologize – I can’t believe no one ever thought to do this sooner. We never thought it possible to actually kill it.”

The four made their way back to the cave, and were greeted warmly by the band of elves. There was some celebration, but it took a long time for it to really sink in that the beast was dead. The snow abated before dawn, and the caravan packed to leave. Krampus suggested that they should find the carcass and bring it with them to Festival. The other bands would need to hear of this, and the body of the Pyhäraapia was the best possible proof. Pukk agreed, and one of the two sleds was emptied to carry it.

Several hours later, the caravan made its way down the hill into Laughing Valley. The mood was jubilant by the time the band reached Festival – the elves were celebrating openly, and some were dancing as they reached their destination. Word spread like lightning throughout the assembled bands, and it seemed like the entire Festival was crowded around that one sled. Krampus was right – they needed to see with their own eyes.

In the end, Jack was happy he stayed, and happy he decided to go with Pukk’s band. He watched in amazement at a real turning point for this reality’s people. At that Festival, they decided to end their nomadic ways, and remain in the Laughing Valley. When the sun rose, Jack was awestruck by the beauty of the Valley – to the north, a triple-peak rose over a think tree line. He learned these were known as Korvatunturi, and the lore of these elves told how their people came from these peaks many generations ago.

It was against this backdrop that Pukk was made the leader of all the elves. Taking from the stories he head from Jack, Pukk was proclaimed Joulupukki, the First Santa of the elven people. He explained to the gathered elves how this Santa lead those of Jack’s world with wisdom, generosity, and peace, and how he would try to live up to that noble ideal. He was draped in a cloak made from the skin of the Pyhäraapia, still stained red with blood and trimmed in white, complete with a fur hat to match. Jack was struck by the similarity – if Pukk were a bit older and a bit heavier, and that beard a bit fuller… it was a very real possibility, but Jack didn’t voice it to anyone. He enjoyed the celebration that followed, the dancing and music that followed. Many of the elves wore the tiny bells on their cloths that jingled when they dances and ran. Jack decided these elves weren’t all that different from Santa’s Helpers in all the stories he heard as a child.

After several days, a small troupe lead Jack back to the cottage where he was found. Saying goodbye to his new friends, he finally embraced Pukk, and extended his hand to Krampus. The animosity gone, the healed warrior (now Pukk’s closest official aide and companion) grabbed the hand and shook it vigorously, and patted Jack on the back.

“I don’t understand,” Pukk said at last. “This land is complete wilderness for miles around. Where will you go?”

“You’ll see,” Jack replied with a smile. “Schmutzli!” The small elf bounded forward, still clutching his empty sack. “Would you like to see some more magic?”

The boy smiled, and Jack turned and pulled out his Clicker. Pressing the button, the familiar brilliant beam of light descended from the heavens. The elves gaped in silence.

Waving goodbye, Jack turned and entered the open doors, eager to get into the warm elevator and on his way.

“What level, sir?” The Operator asked. Jack scanned the walls of the lift car, and stared at a sea of multicolored buttons.

“How about…”

End
 

“Excellent,” Janeway nodded. “What about that cube?” She added after a moment’s contemplation, gesturing towards the cube quickly growing larger on the view-screen.

“It is in trouble,” Kim replied. “At this rate, the cube will have enough antimatter pods attached to it to be completely destroyed by one shot from their monofilament cannons in three minutes.”

“Very good,” Janeway replied. “All stop, Mr. Paris.”

“All stop?” Paris questioned back, as he brought the ship to a halt.

“Yes Tom,” Janeway replied. We are going to let the Khamish finish this fight.”

“But Captain-” This time the objection came from B’Elanna.

“B’Elanna, these people are going to have to handle the Borg all by themselves after we are gone, and clearly they are capable of it. They have that situation well in hand. We will hold position here and make certain no other Borg ships come into the area.”

None did. Every person on the bridge of Voyager watched in fascination as the Khamish fighters, thousands of them, circled the flailing Borg cube, as the three remaining Motherships circled the cube from a short distant back.

After a silent cue, each and every one of the fighters fell away from the cube in a pattern-less jumble, struggling to escape the coming explosion. The Borg cube started foreword, as if to flee the scene, but the Motherships had already fired. Three massive bursts of energy slammed into the cube. Tiny white spots slowly appeared all over the cube, then it was instantaneously engulfed in a white glare. The flash of the explosion completely covered Voyager’s view-screen, and when it finally faded, all that was left of the cube was a field of debris, no piece of the once mighty ship larger than a Federation shuttlecraft.

The four ships turned silently in space towards the nearby planet, each practically bursting with the swelling celebrations onboard.

—

“We have made contact with Kham, and they are sending an additional Mothership. We have five hundred orphan fighters, and that is more than we are willing to leave behind,” the Khamish Colonel eagerly explained. The officer’s mess was bursting with loud activity, the room filled to capacity with celebrating crewmates. Janeway smiled as she leaned forward to hear the Colonel better. The entire crew was breathing a sigh of relief that they were still alive, and not assimilated. The situation would boost morale on the ship tremendously, so the Captain did not so much mind the disruption.

“I must say that I was concerned about that,” she replied. “The Borg would be fools to ignore you now, and each one of those fighters could mean the difference between victory and defeat. Not to mention stranding five hundred people, knowing that they would be dead because of it.”

“It would be a sad loss,” The Colonel replied, “but one we are not prepared to make at this time. You are right, one fighter can make an incredible difference. We have already discovered that one of the cubes was destroyed by a single fighter, making a suicide run INSIDE of the cube.”

“Inside? How was that managed?”

“As near as we can tell, the fighter entered one of the small ports that were used to launch those nuclear spheres. The fighter got deep enough into the tunnel that when it hit the sphere that was coming out, it set off a nuclear reaction inside of the cube.”

“A bold move,” Janeway commented, “although a bit premature. Was that fighter ordered to make that run?”

“No!” the Colonel shot back. “We would never order a blatant suicide run, unless that was the only option. The fighter was an orphan from the Delta Mother. She was ordered to hold position for reassignment, but she ignored the command. If our fighters had not been so busy with the Borg, her ship would have been marked as a mutiny and a general order would be given for that fighter to be destroyed by anyone who saw it.

“She was rather clever though, if not desperate. We imagine that she thought she was not going to go back to Kham anyway, as her Mothership was destroyed, and preferred a quick death to being stranded.”

“I can see why,” Janeway replied, taking a sip of her drink.

“A regrettable loss, but an unavoidable one. There are going to be many such losses in the battles to come, I am certain,” the Colonel said. “In the meantime, we have a planet to populate. We have already made an agreement with the Bint’Ari for joint colonization, a sort of peace offering. After the chaos on the surface dies down a bit, we are going to send a task force to hunt down any remaining Borg, and offer amnesty to those who have broken from the Collective and are willing to start a new life. It will be hard for them, at first, to escape hatred from others who will still see them as Borg, but hopefully once their implants are removed, and their skin is returned to its natural color, they will be able to live out their lives without the stigma of being Borg.”

“We, of course, will remain behind a short time to offer a ‘lift’ to any from the Alpha Quadrant who wish to return home,” Janeway said.

“Excellent!” The Colonel smiled. “The Mothership from Kham will be arriving in a day, with delegations from both Kham and Bint’Ari. We will be signing a treaty here, where together we first defeated the Borg. Your crew, of course, is invited to the ceremony.”

“We would be honored to have it aboard our ship,” Janeway offered.

“Perfect!” the Colonel replied. “Here is much better than a dusty, war-torn planet for such things.”

Janeway smiled, which was about all she had the strength to do. She hadn’t slept in days, and was looking foreword to doing so. Politely excusing herself from the energetic Colonel, she slowly forced herself to her quarters, and immediately fell asleep. Finally she was certain that they could move on towards the Alpha Quadrant, and now that the threat of the Borg had been eliminated for a time, she could permit herself this rest.

—

“Wait!”

“What is it?” B’Elanna impatiently asked.

“Do we have to do this?” the Doctor asked. “I mean, couldn’t you just delete those extra programs now?”

“Doctor, this is the only way. You are the one who caused this, and you are going to have to deal with the integration.”

B’Elanna had come up with the best solution to the Doctor’s problem. They couldn’t ask any of the duplicates to submit to deletion, and it was doubtful that any of them would go for that anyway. So they decided that re-integrating the programs into one Doctor, with all the experiences of the six and one copy of the basic program was the best way. There was a concern that the integration would result in a multiple personality complex, but B’Elanna altered the programs of each of the Doctor’s to be submissive to a blending of personalities, and a tolerance for the period of time that would contain multiple memories. With any luck, the end result would be one Doctor that had all of the experiences and personality traits of the six.

“You are going to have to shut yourself down now, so that I can download your program from the holo-emitter to the main computer.”

The Doctor sighed, then winked out of existence. His holo-emitter dropped to the ground below. B’Elanna bend down to pick it up, and tied it in with the ship’s computer.

Several minutes later, after the integration was complete, B’Elanna activated the Doctor’s program, to see the results of her work.

“Please state the nature,” the Doctor said, as he materialized next to B’Elanna.

“How do you feel, Doctor?” Tom asked.

The Doctor did not answer, but for a moment with a curious look on his face.

Finally, the Doctor answered, “Fascinating.”

“What do you mean?” B’Elanna asked.

“I am amazed at my behavior,” he replied, still looking introspective. “Each of, well, me thought that he was the original personality. All of me were ready to do whatever was necessary to eliminate the others, even though they were all just as viable as I am now.”

“That is understandable,” Tom said. “Each of their survivals were at stake. You knew, all of you, that some way had to be found to restore you, and the most frightening possibility was death for five of you. Each of your copies did not want to be one of those who would be deleted.”

The Doctor affixed his holo-emitter to his arm, and looked back towards B’Elanna.

“Thank you, by the way. I don’t think I could have taken much more of that, being in a room with five other people who were, for all intents and purposes, me.”

Tom smiled. “Well, we should be going now. The signing ceremony should be starting soon.”

B’Elanna frowned. “Dress uniforms. Bleah. I would just assume screw up the Doctor’s program again so that I don’t have to go.”

“I would just assume that you didn’t,” the Doctor replied. “In fact, I wouldn’t like anything to be done to my program for a long time to come.”

Tom and B’Elanna smiled at one another, and quietly walked out of sickbay. The Doctor remained a moment, his face still plastered with a shocked look.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” he moaned.

Outside of sickbay, Tom and B’Elanna walked silently until they reached the turbolift. Finally, B’Elanna broke the silence.

“I’ve decided that you owe me dinner.”

“I owe you dinner?” Tom asked, incredulously.

“Yes,” B’Elanna replied. “I’ve been in two wars, been made a myth by an entire civilization, and you haven’t had me over in all that time.”

Tom smiled, and put his arms around B’Elanna’s waist. “Fine. After the ceremony, you can come over, and I’ll replicate you a pizza.”

“Pizza! Don’t you ever get enough of that garbage?”

“I thought you liked pizza.”

“Real pizza. You know cheese doesn’t replicate well at all,” B’Elanna smiled.

“Fine. You’re the mythological figure. I’ll just have to make it an evening worthy of such a hero!”

“You’d better, mister,” B’Elanna laughed. She quickly kissed Tom, and they separated themselves before the turbolift doors opened.

—

Epilogue-

Working notes- Archeological dig on Paix, orbiting the Kalat Star. Notes by Corat’Ina, Bint’Ari Science Council, on 2-2-3993.

Regarding-Unusual findings:

We have been working on this planet for nearly a season, and have found nothing of any value, until now. It seems our earlier hypothesis that this planet was barren before being occupied by the Borg is indeed false. There definitely was a society here before the Borg invaded this world.

We have discovered the ruins of what appears to be some kind of temple. There are various markings along the interior walls indicating what appears to be the position of this planet’s two stars during certain times of the year.

Tibur’Ygo stated before the project began that any society which inhabited this world would have to be fairly advanced to attract the attention of the Borg. This is clearly not the case. Markings in this building suggest an elaborate sun-worship by these people, something almost unheard of in space-faring societies. In addition, several primitive tools (e.g. spears, bows, and swords) were discovered in the interior of the building, suggesting a hunter/gatherer, early agricultural society.

Preliminary dating of materials found inside the complex indicate that the structure was erected less than four hundred seasons ago. Even in the Borg assimilated this world in the last ten seasons, there is no conceivable way this society could have advanced to the level Tibur’Ygo suggested before the Borg came.

The walls of the structure are constructed out of a very hard stone. The building itself was incorporated into a Borg structure for means of support only. It is unclear why the Borg did not adapt the interior of the building to serve some useful function. Our Khamish counterpart suggests that there may be some property of the rock used to construct the building that the Borg found undesirable. Scans of the rock will be taken in the next week to determine any abnormal properties. Perhaps there was something in the species that lived here itself, and not their technology that attracted the Borg? Until we can locate some biological material, there is no way to be certain.

This find could not have come at a better time. Most of the team had given up hope of ever finding any trace of the society that existed here before the Borg. Hopefully, this evidence will foster further study of this world. It is important that we discover who these people were, and preserve as much of that culture as we can. Fighting the Borg is one thing, but we must work to undo some of the damage they have caused to this part of the galaxy.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

“Mr. Kim has assured me that the Borg will pose no threat to us. In fact, according to him, most of the Borg’s internal circuitry has been removed.”

“What is this supposed to accomplish?” Oro asked.

“That was not specified. I can only assume that this is intended as an alternative plan to our failed strikes.”

The familiar transporter effect filled the back of the shuttle, inside of the shielded area that Tuvok has quickly set up for the Borg’s containment. Inside was something resembling a Borg soldier, with most of its external hardware removed. Several blue streaks were glowing along a side of the Borg’s usual pale face. The Doctor stood over the Borg, scanning it with a medical tricorder.

“I am here to instruct you to proceed back to the surface in an expedient manner,” the Doctor said, without even looking up. “There is a cube on an intercept course, and the Captain would like to raise her shields as soon as possible.”

“Setting a course,” Tuvok replied, and the shuttle surged forward. B’Elanna, who was curious about their cargo, strolled to the back of the shuttle.

“Why are we delivering that back to the surface?” She asked. “It doesn’t even look Borg anymore.”

B’Elanna impatiently listened to the Doctor’s long explanation of his plan. Still not convinced, she returned to her seat in the shuttle, and impatiently waited for the Borg’s departure from the shuttle.

—

“Shields are down to thirty-four percent!” Kim called from his station.

“Status of the cube?” Janeway demanded.

“They have sustained minor damage, about twenty percent,” Kim replied. “But they are regenerating quickly. The cube managed to avoid being laced, there are no anti-matter pods for us to target.”

The entire bridge shook as the Borg tried to lock a tractor beam onto Voyager, but Paris was well prepared for that tactic. The instant the tractor beam got any hold on Voyager’s shields, he would swing the ship around to another side of the cube, so that they would be out of range of the tractor projector.

“Captain, we have an incoming squad of fighters from the planet,” Kim reported. “They are engaging the cube.”

“I don’t know how much they can help,” Chakotay said. “Two hundred fighters against a cube?”

“All of the fighters have grouped around the far side of the cube, and are focusing their lacing efforts there,” Kim said.

“Mr. Paris, keep us opposite to those fighters. We don’t want to get in the way.”

Paris nodded his head, and Voyager backed away from the cube. After a moment, the cube moved to follow Voyager, deeming the fighters nothing to be overly concerned about. The Khamish ships struggled to keep up with the cube, and a few of them collided with the massive ship when it finally came to a sudden stop. Quite unexpectedly, neither Voyager nor the Borg fired at one another, causing a moment of great tension on the bridge of the Federation ship.

It was the Borg who broke the silence.

Voyager’s view-screen flipped to an ominously infinite view of the inside of the cube. The corridor extended as far as any could see, with nothing abnormal interrupting the almost hypnotic patter that the various walkways made. The all too familiar voice of the Collective boomed over the communicator.

“Surrender your vessel,” the voice boomed. “Further resistance is futile. Be assimilated or be destroyed.”

Janeway laughed. “We will not be assimilated.”

“Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated into the Collective or you will be destroyed. You have no other alternative.”

“You have lost ten ships in this battle, you have but three left. How is it that you can insist that we will be destroyed, when you are so close to your own defeat?” Janeway asked.

“The defective cubes are of no concern to us now. We endure. Your vessel escaped from us once before. It will now be Borg.”

As soon as the view-screen blinked back to the exterior view of the Borg cube, the entire ship tossed as if it were rammed. Janeway and Chakotay, both on their feet at the time, flew across the bridge. Janeway was stopped short by Paris, who was right in front of her. Chakotay flew over the console and collided with the view-screen with a loud crack.

“Report!” Janeway ordered as she got back on her feet.

“They used a repulsor beam,” Kim replied. “They hit the top of our shields hoping that it might cause our shields to fail, no doubt. They only succeeded in tipping the ship. Our shields are holding, no major damage.”

“Besides cracking my skull open,” Chakotay moaned and he pulled himself to his feet.

“Captain, the Borg are using the repulsor beam against the fighters,” Kim reported, with a tone of dismay in his voice.

“Any effect?”

“Well,” Kim began, “the fighters are a lot smaller than Voyager, so when one is hit it spins uncontrollably off course. But the fighters are close enough to the cube and spread out enough that they are having a hard time making any hits.”

Voyager tipped again as the cube tried another assault with the repulsor beam. This time the entire bridge crew was securely in their seats, so no one had any serious spills.

“See if you can take out that emitter,” Janeway ordered. “If we take enough shots from that thing, it might actually cause some serious damage.”

“Captain, we are getting a message from Tuvok,” Kim reported. “They have delivered the Borg to the surface and are requesting orders.”

“Tell them to get back to the planet,” Janeway shot back. “We don’t need that cube going after them.”

“It’s too late,” Chakotay interrupted. “There they go.”

The cube suddenly shot past Voyager, and headed straight for the unprotected shuttle that had just emerged from the planet’s atmosphere. The Heston turned as quickly as it could, but the cube overtook the shuttle too soon. It lashed out with a tractor beam and began to haul the shuttle in towards a small port that had opened up on the side of the cube. The shuttle fired back at the cube, trying to free the massive ship’s grasp, but the shuttle’s phasers were nothing more than a pinprick against the menacing cube.

“Beam them out of there, Mr. Kim!” Janeway shouted.

“I can’t, Captain,” Kim replied anxiously. “The shuttle is too close to the planetary disruption belt. There is too much interference.”

“Mr. Paris, get us within weapon’s range. We need to try and distract the cube.”

Voyager came about and dashed towards the cube, and fired a full barrage of torpedo and phaser shots as soon as it got into range. The cube would not release its hold on the helpless shuttle. The shuttle, at this point, had given up firing on the cube, and had turned away from it, straining its engines to their limit trying to break the hold of the Borg tractor beam.

A short distance from the scene of the battle, a small white fleck against the starry background of space quickly grew larger and took on the identifiable form of a Khamish Mothership. It raced past the confused jumble of fighters that had been left behind when the cube suddenly dashed towards the planet, and quickly approached the point of conflict.

“Captain, the Alpha Mother is on a collision course for the cube,” Kim reported.

“Are you certain?” Janeway asked. “Why would they sacrifice their ship like that?”

“Sensors indicate that there is a catastrophic failure within the Alpha Mother’s main drive,” Kim explained. “They can’t stop, nor can they power down.”

“They can’t eject their main drive?” Chakotay asked.

“Their ships aren’t equipped for that.”

“Paris, back us off, and keep a lock on that shuttle, Mr. Kim. They might not be able to get away in time.”

Voyager instantly began backing away from the cube. The Borg ship, who ignored their arrival, also ignored their departure. They were more concerned with the package that they had in their grasps right now- a Federation ship with computer records that would give the Collective valuable insight on the larger ship that was now retreating.

The cube also felt that the rapidly approaching Mothership was no threat. That ship was already heavily damaged by another cube, and would pose no threat. Its attack would be a futile gesture, and as soon as the Federation shuttle was aboard, the Khamish ship would be dealt with.

A second before the Alpha Mother collided with the cube, the Collective contemplated moving the ship out of the way.

The Mothership crashed into the cube as fast as it could muster with its damaged engine. The shock of the collision caused a massive shutdown of all of the communications relays aboard the cube, and the tractor beam shut down to conserve energy. The shuttle shot forward like a rubber band, skipping off of the atmosphere of the Borg planet, and spinning wildly out of control. Before the shuttle could collide with anything, it was transported aboard Voyager’s shuttlebay.

Voyager quickly turned and fled from the ensuing explosion, which grew so large that it momentarily blotted out the entire planet below from Voyager’s sensors. Voyager paused a moment to regroup with the remaining fighters before moving on towards the remaining cube.

—

What an odd defect!

This soldier, seemingly damaged beyond repair, attempted to assimilate itself in order to rejoin the Collective.

The Borg was stripped of all of its external hardware, not even the black outer garment designed to regulate a soldier’s body temperature remained.

But it was clear that this being had once been Borg, the pale skin, missing eye where more advanced optical components were added, scars all over the bald head, the signs were all there.

The defective soldier could not convey what had happened to it. It lost a vast majority of its memory capacity when the internal cranial storage units were removed. But it knew it was Borg, and the preliminary micro-implants had been set by the nanoprobes, allowing some communication with it.

A decision had to be made. Should they reassimilate the being, or destroy what appeared to be a worthless, defective component?

Curiosity got the better of the Collective. Perhaps once the soldier was re-integrated, they could help to revive the being’s biological memories inside of that primitive organic brain, and determine what had happened to it. The nearest, unoccupied soldier escorted the defective one to an assimilation facility.

Components were quickly attached and implanted into the revived soldier, and a permanent link was made with its mind. Once the final data transfer was made, the soldier was restored to normal operating status.

A short time later, the Collective experienced what would best be described as a dizzy spell.

Suddenly, orders were forgotten. Each of the major sub-sections of the planetary Collective branch requested a clarification of purpose simultaneously.

“What were we doing?” the Collective thought.

In response to the confusion, various Borg were given random tasks. A group of Borg were instructed to begin dismantling a repair bay. Another group was assigned to construct a massive debris-incinerator. Two groups were each instructed that the other was defective, and must be eliminated. An orderly brawl ensued.

Something wasn’t right. The planet-bound branch requested clarification of purpose from the central Collective body.

In human terms, this would be like the heart, after a lifetime of independent work, asking the brain how to beat.

The central Collective was shocked at the request. A minor neural probe confirmed what the Collective had feared, an invasive virus. One that had spread too far to be eradicated. There was only one remaining option, containment.

Unfortunately, that involved deeming an entire planet defective. However, the protection of the Collective was of utmost importance. As soon as that fact was considered, the link with Planet 0495 was severed.

Every Borg on the planet went into a frenzy. Defective! Each and every Borg was defective! Once the link to the Collective was cut, some Borg broke free of the hold that the weak planetary neural link provided. Some had to but look at themselves, and see what had been done to them by the Borg. They WERE Borg, and that was enough to drive them insane. Many killed themselves. Some lashed out violently against those still linked to the planetary network.

Some Borg lapsed into a regeneration cycle, for no good reason. Many self-destructed, the Planetary Collective finding scapegoats for the loss of contact with the rest of the Collective.

The liberated Borg began attacking structures, using anything that they could find to tear down buildings or destroy computer components. The planetary consciousness slowly began to lose hold of more and more individuals.

The entire planet erupted into a chaotic war.

Borg fighting Borg, soldiers randomly disintegrating, explosions raging across the planet. Some buildings were destroyed by the massive chunks of debris that fell from orbit, the result of the collision of the Khamish Mothership and the Borg attack cube. The destruction raining from the heavens only seemed to fit into the general chaos all the better.

A Klingon-Borg pulled a pole from the ground and began crushing the heads of a group of Borg that stood nearby, locked in a regeneration cycle.

An Orkhian-Borg grabbed a confused soldier with its long arms and tossed it into a wall.

A trio of loyal Borg drones charged into a rioting group, who were trying to tear down a repair bay. The building exploded, killing all of them.

In less than an hour after the initial introduction of the virus, the entire planet was converted into a fiery war-zone. Within a day, almost every trace of the Borg on Planet 0495 would be gone.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

“Chakotay can handle this,” she told herself time and time again.

She passed by a security team, phaser rifles shouldered, that was in search of any Borg that the ship’s internal sensors missed. Janeway was not worried about any more intruders, however. It had been a good half an hour since the last of the Borg invaders was killed, the only one left alive was in a quarantine field in sickbay, under sedation. That Borg had managed to emit a field that was disrupting transport, and Janeway guessed that it was to have several of its implants removed so that it could be dealt with later. In his summons, the Doctor could not help adding a complaint about the four security men that were stationed inside of sickbay, in case something were to go wrong.

Janeway was momentarily startled by the three Doctors that were inside of the security field. She had totally forgotten for a time about the problem with the Doctor’s program, something that would be considered quite major under ordinary circumstances.

She scanned the room for the Doctor with the holoemitter, and found him working with one of the duplicated examining something at one of the micro-surgery tables.

“I don’t see how you hope to accomplish that,” the duplicate criticized. “They must have some sort of viral scanner that would reject any such invasive program.”

“Haven’t you been paying attention to a word I’ve been saying?” the Doctor replied. “We have enough information from Tuvok’s download and what we have gathered from our ‘guest,’ as well as input from Seven of Nine to mask the invasive program so that it will see it as a simple function command from the Collective.” The ship shuddered, but neither of the Doctors took any notice.

“Excuse me Doctor,” Janeway interrupted, her voice betraying extreme annoyance. “What is so important that I had to come down here? As you can plainly tell, Voyager is potentially moments away from being torn to shreds.”

“Captain, I believe I have a way to eliminate the Borg that are now inhabiting the surface of the planet,” the Doctor explained.

“Doctor, we have a strike team on the surface now,” Janeway impatiently replied. “With any luck, the Borg there will not be a problem.”

“Quite honestly, I can’t see how a small strike team could do anything to effectively eliminate the Borg on the surface,” the Doctor replied, almost too confidently. “On Bint’Ari, the Borg barely had enough time to establish a primary planet-bound Collective transceiver. I have analyzed the data from Tuvok’s download, and it indicates that there are three thousand, one hundred twelve such units on the surface of this fully assimilated planet, where only one or two is required. The extra redundancy is a defense mechanism, in case an enemy attempts what the strike team is now.”

“Seven mentioned that there could be thousands, but I did not actually believe the number would be so high,” Janeway commented. “Why is it that the engineering teams working on this data did not come across an exact number sooner?”

“I have incorporated the entire download into an analytic recall subroutine. To put it in terms you might understand, I can remember every bit of the data from that download. I am certain that the engineering team has not even run across this bit of information yet. It is buried rather deeply in a minor subroutine, not intended for frequent access.”

Janeway sighed. “Alright, what is your idea?”

“It’s not going to work,” the duplicate whined. “I think this situation has caused you to develop quite an infallibility complex. Just because you have that damned holoemiter, you think you can’t be wrong!”

“You have developed a negative tinge to your personality that is extremely annoying,” the Doctor replied. “You have access to the same data that I do, I can’t see how you don’t agree with a word I say.”

“Doctors,” Janeway interrupted. “Now is not the time for this. Your idea, please?”

“Well,” the Doctor began, “I have analyzed the data from the treatment I used to revive Ensign Kim after his run in with Species 8472. I believe the nanoprobes could be modified in a similar manner to introduce an invasive virus into the planetary collective, similar to the paradox virus Lt. Commander Data developed on Stardate 45855. I believe that the modified nanoprobes can be used to infect a branch of the collective with this invasive program that will corrupt most of its major command routines. When the branch tries to up-link with the rest of the collective, the virus will be discovered, and the collective will deem the entire branch defective, thereby disconnecting itself from it to prevent further spread of the virus. Once disconnected, the branch should initiate a self-destruct sequence.”

“What if they don’t?” Janeway asked.

“They will be useless shells anyway,” the Doctor replied. “Without any commands from the collective, the individual Borg soldiers will do nothing, not even defend themselves. It would then be a simple matter of getting rid of the comatose Borg, something that our presence would not be required for the Khamish to complete.”

“Sounds like an interesting plan,” Janeway decided. “But how do you expect to get these nanoprobes onto the planet, and into a position where they can implant this virus?”

“My first thought was that the nanoprobes could be restored to their original programming, and used to assimilate someone. That person would then be transported to the surface, where they would interface with the Borg, and spread the virus.”

“Entirely unacceptable,” Janeway replied sternly. “I will not condemn anyone to assimilation.”

“I thought that would be your reaction,” The Doctor replied. “My second thought was to use the nanoprobes on our ‘guest,’ and have him beamed down to the surface.”

“But he is already Borg, how would the nanoprobes be of any use there?”

“By removing as many of the internal components as we can from the Borg’s skull, we can trick the nanoprobes into believing that it is, in fact, not a Borg. They will begin the assimilation process as they normally would, only adding our virus to the Borg’s basic program.”

“That would take hours, Doctor,” Janeway said. “I do not see how any of it can be accomplished in time.”

“We began the removal of the circuit pathways over an hour ago, in our attempts to retrieve more data about our ‘guest.’ The other duplicates are working on it as we speak. They will have completed the procedure in less than an hour.”

Janeway stood in a stunned silence for a couple of moments. Could it actually work?

“Are you certain that it will work?” She finally asked.

“Unless the Borg have drastically changed their primary command pathways in the last twenty-four hours, I can’t see how it would fail,” The Doctor replied. His duplicate remained mercifully silent.

“Let me know when you are ready to implant the nanoprobes,” Janeway ordered, as she snapped towards the exit. She found it ironic that The Doctor was the one who came up with a weapon of mass destruction to be used against Species 8472, and again one to be used against the Borg. She always had the notion that doctors were supposed to keep people alive, not find ways to kill them.

—

With an upward sweep of his Aria, Oro took of the arm of yet another Borg that had come to confront him. Would it never end? They had already destroyed four sites that had the makings of a central transceiver system, the destruction of each had only bought the small band a couple of moments of rest while the Borg regrouped.

Oro dodged a blow from the Borg’s mechanical arm, and lopped off his attacker’s head with a graceful arc of his blade. The head soared through the air, and momentarily eclipsed the distant swarm of Khamish fighters that were attacking the surface. Oro returned his gaze to the area around him, so that a Borg soldier would not take him by surprise. For the moment, there were none to be seen.

Oro could not understand why they were continuing with this foolish errand. It was plain to him that the only way that they would defeat the overwhelming hordes of Borg on this world would be through a full scale invasion, something that this fleet was not equipped for. The Borg were too smart to be defeated by a single all-or-nothing attack.

The truth of it was all around him. Everything on this world exuded a sameness that was disturbing. Nothing had any sort of purely decorative value. Every single building was the same, excepting the size, no doubt each building was precisely the right size for the function that it was intended to perform. Each building had an open doorway at ground level. Clearly there was no need for closed doors, something that only privacy demanded. In a society where every member knew the thoughts of each other, privacy was irrelevant. There were no windows, anywhere. Windows only served to view the surrounding area, and that also served no useful purpose for a society that cared nothing for appearances.

Even the roads had a frightening sameness about them. Where a building ended, a road began. No sidewalks, no grass patches, trees, or flower beds. Each of the roads was identical in width, and they were all remarkable well maintained and free from any sort of litter or debris. There was an elevated platform above the precise center of each of the roads, where a sort of train would pass over on occasion. Oro could not see the contents of the vehicle, for they, also, had no windows.

Grey was the only word that Oro could think of to describe this place. No other word fit. The voice of his beloved Jaskin in his mind did what it could to ease his discomfort, but she was as disturbed be the scene as he was. This planet could have been Bint’Ari, if things had gone differently, and that frightened Oro more than anything.

Oro noticed out of the corner of his eye a Borg soldier steadily making its way towards him. Oro raised his sword to strike. The Borg showed no emotion, no fear or anger, only a blank determination. The Borg always had that look. You could kill them or they could kill you, and there look would never change. Oro found himself smiling, because he could smile, and his enemy could not. He roared in anger and charged towards the Borg, and quickly slew him. Then he roared in victory. The Borg wanted to take this away from his people. This thrill of survival. The emotion of being alive. A nearby explosion only served to amplify his voice. Oro thought that they might not take this world today, but he knew then that the Borg would never take from him what made him alive. And he rejoiced in that feeling.

Oro lowered his gaze towards the explosion, and saw B’Elanna and a Khamish soldier running towards him. When they arrived, he did not ask what had happened to Usu, the young Bint’Ari that was the fourth in this landing party. There was no doubt that he had not survived.

“Torres to Heston, three to beam up.”

Torres did not waste any time once the party was beamed up. She rushed to the front of the shuttle to find out if their last attack had any effect. The result was obvious by her reaction.

“What is it going to take?” she roared, slamming her fist onto the console. “We have used all of our torpedoes, and we only have enough explosives left for one more attack.”

“I believe that one more attack will make no more difference. Our mission is a failure. We must return to Voyager and investigate other options,” Tuvok suggested.

“Here, here,” Oro added from the back of the shuttle. B’Elanna shot him a vicious glare.

“So you two are suggesting that we give up now? What else could we possibly do? If we just tuck our tails and run whimpering back to Voyager, the Borg will recover. And if that happens, I doubt that we will have a home left to go back to.”

“Lieutenant, logic suggests that we have no chance of success in our present course of action. The Hesoid has already been destroyed, as well as one of the Khamish transports. The odds of us achieving victory over the Borg on this planet without returning to Voyager are approximately four point six trillion to one. Simply put, if we remain here, we will not survive.”

“If there is a Voyager left,” Torres moaned as she flopped into a chair. “You saw what it was like up there before we came down. There is a good chance that the Borg already destroyed Voyager.”

Tuvok chose not to respond to that comment, but took it as a sign of resignation. Oro, who had fallen asleep in his chair, no doubt exhausted after the last several strikes, made no remark. Tuvok signaled the other ships in the group, and they made their way back up into orbit of the planet.

—

Paris was off in a place that few pilots ever went. He had been at the helm for hours now, constantly moving, trying to stay away from the Borg tractor beam, as well as dodging the thousands of fighters that were swarming through the entire area. He could remember at least three times an ensign asking if he needed to be relieved, hoping that they didn’t break his concentration. Paris did not even answer. He couldn’t spare the energy to give an obvious answer. There was no way that he was going to turn over the helm to anyone else right now.

Paris was having the time of his life. Voyager had been designed for the demands of travel through the badlands, a ship for hunting Maquis. But out in the Delta Quadrant, Paris never got to indulge in the ships full capabilities. They were always flying straight. But now Paris was pushing Voyager to its limits, and enjoying every minute of it. The fact that a single mistake could lead to the destruction of Voyager only made things more exhilarating.

Paris adjusted the navigational deflectors to their full strength, and barreled the ship through the debris of what was a Borg Destroyer, towards one of the final two Attack cubes. Chakotay had not wasted a second after they had destroyed the smaller Borg ship that had attacked them in ordering Paris towards the bigger threat. They all knew that no matter how a battle was going that if you gave a Borg ship any time to recover that it would repair itself, and become much harder to fight the second time around.

“Come to a stop within weapons range of the cube, Mr. Paris,” Chakotay ordered. He had long given up expecting a response from the helm officer, He recognized that Paris wouldn’t say anything long ago, and it was pointless trying to force one out of him. The orders he gave were being followed, and that was all that was important.

Janeway chose that moment to come onto the bridge. She looked as tired as the rest of the crew did, but she still had that familiar air of command about her. Chakotay relinquished the command chair to her, which she immediately filled.

“Status,” she requested.

“Two Attack cubes and two Scout vessels remaining, Captain,” Kim replied wearily. “No incoming ships on long range scanners.”

“Excellent,” Janeway replied. Noticing the Cube that was rapidly filling up the front view-screen, she though to ask,” How long until we come into weapon’s range?”

“One minute, thirty seconds,” Paris replied from the front, shocking half of the people on the bridge. That was the first thing Paris had said in well over an hour.”

“Captain, we are receiving a message from Tuvok,” Kim reported. “They have just came out of the planet’s sensor-distortion field. They are requesting a rendezvous.”

“Mr. Paris, take us back to the planet, and quickly. We don’t need the Borg to see that they are there unprotected.”

“One of the cubes is breaking away from the battle and heading this way, Captain. They are heading straight for us,” Kim said.

“Damn,” Janeway mumbled. “How long until they come into weapon’s range?”

“Thirty seconds,” Kim replied.

Janeway sighed. “What about the Khamish fighters?”

“There are none in range.”

“Mr. Paris, see if you can go any faster,” Janeway ordered.

“Sickbay to the bridge,” The Doctors voice called over the intercom. “Captain, We are ready to implant the nanoprobes into the Borg soldier.”

“Nanoprobes?” Chakotay asked, with a confused look on his face.

Janeway shook her head. Was nothing simple anymore?

“Standby, Doctor,” she replied. “Mr. Kim, open a channel to the Heston. Inform Tuvok that we are going to be transporting a Borg soldier over to them, and that they are to get him to the surface as quickly as possible. Then they are to return to orbit.”

Kim’s mouth dropped, but he manages to reply with an “Aye Captain,” before she could reprimand him.

“Captain to sickbay, Doctor, implant the nanoprobes and prepare to have the Borg transported out of sickbay in thirty seconds,” Janeway ordered.

“But Captain,” The Doctor complained, “How-”

“That will be all, Doctor,” Janeway interrupted, closing the channel.

“Captain, the shuttles are entering transporter range,” Kim reported.

“Transport the Borg soldier onto the Heston. As soon as it has gotten underway, extend our shields around the other shuttle and the Bint’Ari ships.”

The entire crew was surprised at how quickly things happened from that point. A couple of seconds after Janeway gave the order, the Heston turned around and headed back towards the planet. Barely a second in time, Voyager’s shields went back up around both Voyager and the rest of the landing party. As soon as that happened, the cube came into range and pummeled the shields with a spread of torpedoes. The three ships within Voyager’s shields hurried towards the shuttlebay doors, as Voyager turned to face the Borg menace.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

“What about the fighters?” Chakotay asked.

“About twelve hundred of the fighters from the Delta Mother were destroyed. Two hundred are nearing the planet, along with three Bint’Ari ships. The rest of them are still engaging the Borg,” Kim replied.

“What about the cubes?” Janeway asked.

“The Attack and Scout cubes are heading for us. The Destroyer is maintaining position, trying to hit the fighters.”

“How long until the cubes reach us?”

“Thirty seconds.”

Janeway scratched her head. They had thirty seconds to drop their shields, launch the landing party, and re-raise their shields. And every second she thought about it gave them less time.

“Mr. Kim, signal the shuttlebay that they have their clearance to leave,” Janeway said. “And tell Tuvok that they have fifteen seconds to get out of here.”

“Aye Captain,” Kim replied. “Shields are down, the shuttles are under way.”

“Borg cube coming into range, Captain,” Paris said.

“Mr. Young, fire phasers,” Janeway ordered.

“No effect, Captain,” Young reported. “The Borg are coming to a stop in front of us.”

Suddenly, two Borg soldiers materialized on the bridge, one next to the weapons console, and the next in the center. The two security officers on the bridge drew their weapons and moved towards the soldiers.

“Intruder alert! Mr. Kim, get me those shields, now!” Janeway barked, and she leapt to her feet. Ensign Young rose and grabbed the heavy mechanical arm of the Borg that stood near him before it cracked open his skull. The Borg reached around with its free arm and backhanded Young, sending him crashing into his own console.

The other Borg made its way towards Janeway. The Doctor, after a moment’s hesitation, got to his feet and stepped in front of the soldier. The Borg moved foreword, reached up, and stabbed the Doctor in the neck with the two talons from its fingers. Both The Doctor and the Borg looked to the ground, where several tiny metallic flecks had fallen between The Doctors feet. His program, detecting an unwanted foreign substance within the holographic matrix, had simply took away the Doctors solidity long enough for the metal bits to fall to the ground.

The Doctor bent down, and looked closely at the flakes.

“Nanoprobes,” he commented. “An effective means of assimilation for humanoids. Of course, ineffective on a hologram.”

The Borg, though confused, decided that assimilation was not going to work on the Doctor. The only alternative was death. It raised its mechanical arm and brought it down on the Doctor’s head. Instead of the intended result, the arm passed straight through the Doctor and the Borg fell foreword. The Doctor moved aside, allowing the Borg to fall to the ground. Before the Borg could rise to its feet, the Doctor reached over and plucked the necessary component off of the Borg’s chest, causing it to instantly disintegrate.

The second Borg’s attack on Ensign Young was stopped short by Seven of Nine, who leveled the drone with a vicious backhand. Young fell to the ground, and the drone turned to engage Seven of Nine. She was too quick for it, though. She lashed out, grabbing the drone’s head and snapping its neck. The drone dropped to the floor with a loud thud.

“How many more of those got on the ship before the shields went up?” Janeway demanded.

“Five,” Kim replied, returning to his console. “Two others have been eliminated. There are still some on decks three and four.”

“Transport them into space,” Janeway ordered.

“Doctor,” Chakotay began. “Ensign Young is severely injured. He has lost a lot of blood, and is unconscious.”

The Doctor moved to examine Ensign Young, ordered transport to sickbay, and the two disappeared a moment later.

“You have tactical, Chakotay,” Janeway ordered, returning to her seat. “Status of the Borg ships?”

“They haven’t attacked us yet,” Kim replied. “The remaining fighters from the Delta Mother arrived before they could. The Borg Destroyer and the Scout have both been destroyed. The Attack cube has no appreciable damage, but I estimate that there are at least three thousand antimatter pods attached to it.”

“Signal the ranking fighter, and tell them to fall back,” Janeway ordered. “Target as many of those pods as you can and fire phasers, Chakotay.”

“Aye Captain,” Chakotay replied.

Seconds later, Voyager’s weapons came alive, phasers hitting different parts of the cube. Small explosions which could be seen all over the surface ruptured many of the pods. After a moment’s wait, the antimatter leaked out of the containers, causing several explosions that spread all around the cube. Finally the entire ship went in a giant explosion, and several chunks of the Borg cube fell towards the atmosphere of the planet.

—

Not used to flying several kilometers above a hostile alien planet, Oro resisted the urge to close his eyes. Instead, he sat with his hands firmly gripping the sides of his seat, and stared unwaveringly as Tuvok calmly plunged the shuttle towards the planet’s surface.

“Voyager’s shields are up,” B’Elanna’s disembodied voice reported. Oro jumped at the voice, and shook his head as he reminded himself that she was on another shuttle, and that they must have a sort of communication system that linked the ships. He finally gave in, and closed his eyes. Better to be calm than a nervous wreck.

“The three Bint’Ari ships are following close behind,” Torres continued. “And the Khamish squad is going to stay behind, and make certain that none of the Borg ships interfere with our landing. The ranking Lieutenant says that as soon as we are safely on the surface, they are going down themselves to make several attack runs before regrouping with the landing parties.”

“Acknowledged, Tuvok out.” Tuvok glanced over at Oro, who still had his eyes closed.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Oro opened his eyes, and focused foreword, trying not to let his embarrassment show. “I’m fine,” he calmly replied.

“Out of curiosity, how many Borg are on this planet?” Oro asked, after several moments of silence.

“Exactly two point six billion,” Tuvok replied. Still focusing on piloting the shuttle, he glanced casually at the sensors, to affirm his statement. With a look of confusion, Tuvok reached over and punched commands into the sensor console.

“What’s wrong?” Oro asked.

“The sensors are completely inoperative,” Tuvok replied.

“Sappho to Heston,” Torres’s voice filled the cabin. “Tuvok, can you see anything?”

“Negative, Lieutenant, it would appear that the Borg have reactivated their sensor block,” Tuvok replied. “I would recommend descending as quickly as possible to an altitude of nine kilometers, and holding position there until we get a clear view of the area.”

“OK Tuvok, I’ll relay that to the other ships,” Torres replied, before she closed the channel.

“What if we get attacked?” Oro asked. “We won’t be able to see to avoid being destroyed!”

“We will not be attacked,” Tuvok steadily replied. “The Borg would not be able to get a weapon’s lock on any of our ships while we are in the disruption band. Here is the safest place for our ships.”

“I see,” Oro replied. He returned his gaze to the planet below, and found it fascinating. Oro had never seen another planet before, at least, not this close. He could still remember his father taking him to the observatory when he was younger, to look through the giant telescopes. For a long time, Oro wanted nothing more than to be an astronaut.

His father.

His father had killed himself rather than endure the Borg’s voice one moment longer. Hanged himself less than a day before the destruction of the cube in orbit of Bint’Ari. Less than a day before most of the people who were afflicted by the Borg mind-rape had their burdens lifted.

One day longer and Oro would have had his father. Now both of his parents were gone forever, victims of the Borg.

Suddenly, Oro was not quite so afraid anymore.

“Sensors are coming back online,” Tuvok reported. Before he finished that short sentence, the entire cabin was bathed in the flashing light of a red alert. Tuvok quickly turned his chair to see what had set off the alarm.

“Three small ships are approaching from the surface,” Tuvok said, before Oro could ask what was wrong. A diagram of the ships appeared on the lower corner of the view-screen.

Each of the craft were nothing more than a Borg drone equipped with an impressive exo-suit. The suit resembled a small jet, with two large disrupter protruding on both sides of the Borg’s head, as well as thruster packs scattered along the belly and the rear of the small ship.

The Borg fighters wasted no time. They immediately moved in and destroyed one of the Bint’Ari transport ships, and swung around to begin their second pass.

Each of the shuttles raised their shields and moved to protect the remaining two transport ships. The dogfight was short-lived, as the shuttle far outclassed the small Borg flight-suits.

“I’m feeding the coordinates of likely target sights to the other ships,” said Tuvok, without wasting a moment. Without another word, he turned the shuttle towards the surface and began a rapid descent.

—

The leader of the Delta Blue squad made her way through the giant cloud of debris. Not that she had any idea where she was going, she had not been privy to any of the alternative plans for the attack on the cubes. When the attack began, she was but a mere Captain, one of over a hundred in the squad. Now, she was the only member of the squad, the rest destroyed in a nuclear/antimatter blast. Her onboard sensors were totally destroyed in the explosion, and she was unable to reach her own Mothership for direction, as her comm-signal was drowned out by the thousands of other signals that flooded the ship.

The silence of the space around her made the situation even more uncomfortable. She knew that all around her was a battle of epic proportions, yet she could not hear any of the explosions, none of the engines of the fighters streaking by their targets, nor could she hear commands filtering down the channels, each squad leader given orders on where to strike next. Her own communication system was blocked from receiving signals from any other squadron. This feature was suppose to ease the confusion of several thousand signals being exchanged by an equal number of fighters, so that the proper orders were received and followed by the proper people.

This was supposed to be an easy victory, a decisive defeat of the Borg by the powerful Khamish. But now that the Borg had found a way, one ridiculously primitive way, to destroy hundreds of Khamish fighters in one blow, defeat of the Borg seemed an almost impossible task.

The hopelessness of her situation snapped inside of the Captain. With her mothership destroyed, it was entirely possible that even if the battle ended in a victory, she would not be returning home. Death, at this point, was inevitable. Her ship could not return home, nor could it dock with another Mothership. Those would undoubtedly be filled to capacity. And the fighter was not designed for planet-landings, only tractor-docking in Motherships. No matter what happened, the Captain would be stranded out in space.

Death in the void of space by dehydration, hunger, or suffocation when the fighter’s life support system went down was not the way the Captain wanted to go out. With a renewed determination, she looped her fighter out of the debris field, and charged towards the first combat area that she could find.

“Identify yourself, pilot,” the voice over her comm-system demanded as she blew past a nearby Mothership.

“Captain, Delta Blue One-Two-Six,” she replied, still surging foreword.

“This is Alpha Mother, Delta Blue One-Two-Six. Where is your commanding officer?”

“The Lieutenant Colonel is dead, Alpha Mother. I am the ranking officer,” the Captain replied.

“Please maintain position beside Alpha Mother, so that we can reassign you to an active squadron.”

“Negative Alpha Mother. Delta Blue One-Two-Six out.” The Captain ignored the string of protests that bled through her earpiece. She knew that what she had just done was a capital offense, akin to mutiny, and technically she was now an open target to any and all Khamish ships in the area. Somehow, she doubted that any of the struggling fighters would even take notice of her.

The battle around the cube was hard for the Captain to take in all at once. There was no sense of order to the surrounding fighters, all were trying to stay as far away from each-other as possible, to avoid any chain-reaction explosions. The Borg cube was still trying everything that it could to destroy the attackers, everything from random shots of a cutting beam, grabbing a fighter with a tractor beam and swinging it out of control, to suddenly moving one way or the other in hopes that some of the fighters were moving to close to the cube to avoid being hit. Their efforts were not entirely futile, occasionally a fighter would lose control, and come to a violently explosive end.

It did not take long for the Captain to reach the cube, as fast as she was traveling. She turned along the one of the sides of the massive ship, coming as close as she could to it without scraping the bottom of her hull. From this perspective, the Captain thought that the cube looked frighteningly like the surface of a planet rather than a ship, the edge an ever distant horizon. She focused attentively to the metallic lattice that made up the hull of the cube, the seemingly random grooves and crevasses covering the whole of the surface.

Directly in front of her, a circular door on the surface of the cube opened up, and a sphere slightly larger than her fighter shot out. After she passed underneath it, she turned her attention briefly to her sensor readout to check its progress. It had collided with another fighter making a lacing run at a higher altitude, destroying it and two other fighters in the resulting explosion.

Then an idea came to her. She programmed her ships sensors to look for similar circular impressions along the cube’s surface. She then slowed her fighter in order to get a clear picture. She changed course and headed for the first one that her sensors found. As she passed over it, she released four of her full load of antimatter pods, and waited for the automatic signal that each pod sent out after it had attached itself to the surface. She then looped around for another pass, and fired her bolt cannons at the circular indentation. As she had hoped, several of the shots hit the pods, rupturing them. The resulting explosion tore away a small section of the cube’s outer hull, revealing what the Captain had hoped for, one of the tubes from which the spheres were being launched from.
The Captain recited a prayer to the Great Hive Mother, and slipped her fighter into the dark tunnel. She could not even see the sphere in front of her when it crashed into her ship, igniting the antimatter onboard into a fantastic explosion that eventually worked its way through the entire cube.

Hundreds of Khamish fighters limped their way back to the Alpha Mother to regroup. Each and every person who was involved in the attack had no idea why their enemy had suddenly exploded, but not one of them wished it hadn’t happened.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

“What?” Chakotay asked, as he sipped his drink. The two had decided to take a little break in the officer’s mess before the fleet would move on to Kalat.

“If this data is correct, we are lucky something like this did not happen a while ago. We seem to have been going through a part of space that the Borg have almost entirely conquered for over a month now. I thought that Kes had thrown us well beyond Borg territory. Perhaps it is not as well defined as we once thought.”

“Maybe the ‘silent invaders’ the captain of the Quahi vessel we ran into a few weeks ago referred to were the Borg. The Borg don’t tend to talk to much.”

“You can add conversation to the list of things the Borg feel are ‘irrelevant,” Kim joked. Chakotay had to laugh along with him. “Ever tried holding a conversation with Seven of Nine? She can end one before you ever start it.”

Chakotay smiled. “Most of my conversations with Seven of Nine never go beyond ship’s business.”

Harry started with a nervous stutter, swallowed it, and continued, “According to this data. It will take us another two years to get out of the Borg sphere of influence!”

“What about the rest of the journey home? Are we going to have to make any long detours to stay out of Borg space?” Chakotay asked.

“I have no idea. The data Tuvok got doesn’t have anything like a map showing the boundary of space that the Borg have claimed. That would make sense, as the Borg don’t seem to respect any boundaries. But there are several star systems noted in the information, and the computer was able to extrapolate a map of the nearby systems. Seven has been converting the data for use in astrometrics, so we should have the area charted in the next day or so.

“It looks like the Borg are really worried about us, too. There are only two other cubes within a month of here. By all outward appearances, they do not plan to mess around. We are to be destroyed.”

Chakotay smiled. “Not if B’Elanna has anything to say about it. She is driving the Engineering department insane with all of the modifications she wants done. She’s having three different shield nutation programs installed, modifying all of the phaser banks, and trying to get reaction time on the impulse drive down by fifteen percent. I am glad I’m not down there right now. I am sure some of them haven’t slept since she came back on duty.”

“She probably has Borg on the brain now. I was talking with Oro, from the surface, and he told me some pretty tall tales about her. It seems that she has become something of a legend on Bint’Ari. One story had something to do with her killing fifty Borg in one battle,” Kim said.

“That doesn’t surprise me. She bottles up so much of her aggression that I am certain that once she let it out, anyone who stood in her way regretted ever even looking at her.”

“I hear they named her after an animal on the planet. Ti’hat, I think it was. Oro described it, and it sounded something like a large Tasmanian devil,” Kim explained.

“Well, I wouldn’t call her that, if I were you,” Chakotay smiled. “From you, she might take it as a joke, but I don’t think I would take that chance.”

“All senior officers, to the bridge,” Janeway’s voice said over the comm-system.

“Oh well,” Kim said. “Looks like the fun is over.”

——————————————————————————–

Kim and Chakotay walked on to the bridge in time to catch the end of the conversation between Janeway and the Khamish Colonel.

“The modifications your Ensign helped us make to our shields are completed, and are working well,” the Colonel said. “The auto-nutation program may fail, however, if the shields are hit too hard.”

“That is to be expected,” Janeway replied. “Your shield generators aren’t designed for constant frequency modulation. Honestly, I am surprised that your engineers were able to manage it at all.”

“There is not a lot that we cannot accomplish, Captain,” the Colonel said. “The fleet is ready to depart. We’ve taken on the last of the Guard units the Bint’Ari sent to accompany us, and all of the repairs are completed.”

“Excellent,” Janeway replied. “Let’s be on our way, then.” As the channel closed, Janeway ordered Paris to proceed towards the Borg planet at Warp 6. Unexpectedly, The Doctor strolled onto the bridge, and sat down at an empty console.

“Doctor, I am surprised to see you,” Janeway said. “Is there something wrong?”

“It was my understanding that the Chief Medical Officer had a spot on the bridge. I was merely following tradition,” The Doctor replied.

“Drove yourself out of sickbay, did you?” Paris snickered.

“Certainly the presence of my ‘copies’ contributed to the decision to leave sickbay. I had no idea that I was so annoying! The copies are being entirely unreasonable. None of them will submit to deletion, and none of them will shut themselves off, for fear that they will be deleted if they do.”

“A reasonable fear, Doctor,” Janeway explained. “The only reason that you are not being pressured to delete yourself is that when the malfunction occurred, you were the first to reappear, and you were the first to get to your holo-emitter, and haven’t taken it off since. How would you feel if one of your copies were insisting that you be deleted?”

“They are!” The Doctor exclaimed. “In fact, the only thing that they can agree upon is that I should be the first one to go.”

“Rest assured, Doctor,” Janeway interjected. “Your problem will be dealt with once we are safely under way.”

“I need to learn to stop trying to improve my program,” The Doctor mumbled to himself.
—

“Captain, ETA to Borg planet two-point-five minutes,” Paris reported. The fleet was moving along at impulse speeds, after stopping for a short time about ten minutes away from the planet. The Khamish Commander thought it best to come into range of the planet with all of the fighter deployed, in case the Borg attacked sooner than expected.

“Any luck on the sensors, Mr. Kim?” Janeway asked.

“I’m afraid not, Captain,” Kim replied. “I can’t figure out what it is the Borg are doing to jam us. I can get a clear picture of the planet, and the surrounding space, but the cubes I’ve detected keep disappearing and re-appearing from the sensors. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

“How many different cubes have you seen so far?” Chakotay asked.

“I’ve confirmed that there are at least two Attack Cubes and one Scout Class Cube,” Kim replied. “There could be a hundred more, though. It is almost like there is a layer around the planet that is totally cloaked. I’m not reading any matter what-so-ever between the altitudes of ten and fifteen kilometers.”

“Species 756 exhibited a similar technology,” Seven suggested. “It is possible that the Borg assimilated that species since my, ‘liberation’ from the Collective.”

“Any idea how to neutralize it?” Janeway asked.

“None,” Seven replied.

“One minute until we are in range, Captain,” Paris reported.

“Captain!” Kim exclaimed. “The sensor interference is gone! Suddenly, I have a clear picture of the matter in that altitude range.”

“Perhaps it was impairing their sensor readings as well,” Chakotay suggested. “Maybe one of the cubes that was outside of the belt detected us, and they turned off the sensor screen to get a better picture of us.”

“A reasonable hypothesis,” Seven confirmed. “Our experience with the sensor screen indicated it blocked all sensor scans, regardless of their source.”

“How many ships are you reading, Ensign?” Janeway asked.

“Five Attack Cubes, two Destroyers, and six Scout Class cubes,” Kim replied.

“Looks like we have them outnumbered by a few thousand,” Janeway half-heartedly joked, referring to the thousands of one-man fighters that surrounded the fleet. Notify the Colonel our scans, she might not have a clear read yet.”

“Can you get any details on the planet’s surface?” Chakotay asked. “If we are going to knock out the Borg planet-based collective network, we will need some information of the location of the transceivers.”

“There is still some sort of dampening field blocking details about the planet’s surface from our sensors,” Kim replied. “I can tell that the planet-bound Borg are operating under an extremely decentralized system, much like a cube itself. The ground strike units are going to have to use the information from Tuvok’s download as well as their own sensors to locate the transceivers.”

“Such an attempt would almost certainly prove futile,” Seven added. “There could be several thousand transceivers on this planet. An invasion force would have to be significantly larger to disable all of them.”

“That is a chance we are going to have to take,” Chakotay replied.

“Janeway to Tuvok,” the Captain said as she tapped her comm-badge. “Are the shuttles ready to launch?”

“The Hesoid, Heston, and Aust en are standing by,” Tuvok replied. “The last quantum torpedo is being secured inside of the Heston, and we should be ready to depart in ten minutes.”

“We’ll try to get you as close to the planet as we can,” Janeway replied. “Janeway out.”

“Status of the Borg fleet?” Chakotay asked.

“It looks like they’ve seen us. They are moving this way,” Kim reported. “But they have not tried to hail us.”

“It will not be long,” Seven replied.

“We are the Borg,” the monotonous voice was heard over the ship’s comm-system. “Lower your shields and surrender your ships. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.”

“I spoke too soon,” Harry said.

“Have the Khamish fighters engage the cubes,” Janeway ordered. “We need a distraction in order to get close enough to the planet for the shuttles to get into the atmosphere without a problem.”

“Fire at will, Ensign Young,” Chakotay ordered the young tactical officer. “And if you would avoid the attack cubes for the time being, Mr. Paris, that might be a good idea.”

The Khamish fighter pilots, eager for the confrontation, surged towards the Borg cubes at full speed. A few disappointed pilots stayed behind with their ships, to prevent an attack on one of the Mothers. The Mother ships, in the meantime, were maintaining a very tight formation, and managed to lock their shields together so that each ship would benefit from the shielding of the others. Voyager skirted the edge of the battle, to avoid getting into range of one of the Attack cubes.

Janeway glanced several times at Seven of Nine during the opening minutes of the battle, trying to read some kind of reaction on the woman’s face. Seven did not oblige her with any discernable response. She remained transfixed on the view-screen, blinking only when necessary.

“Signal the Captain of Delta Mother, Mr. Kim,” Janeway instructed. “We need her to break formation and follow us towards the planet, so that we can drop off the landing parties.”

“Aye Captain,” Kim replied. “Delta Mother and four fighter squadrons will be here in about a minute.”

“Captain,” Paris called from the helm. “I’ve got a Borg Scout heading straight for us.”

“Mr. Young, fire a spread of torpedoes as the Scout,” Janeway ordered. “Perhaps we can discourage it.”

Five torpedoes lanced out the rear of Voyager, and impacted the Scout one after another. The small cube shuddered under the force of the explosion, but it did not slow down. Several bits of the ship were blown off during the explosion, so it looked more like a jagged rock than a cube.

“Captain, it’s on a collision course,” Paris warned. “I’m trying to move out of its way, but the cube keeps adjusting its course to match mine. I can’t stay ahead of it.”

“Aft phasers, Mr. Young,” Chakotay ordered.

“No effect, Commander,” Young replied.

“Set up the frequency rotation program,” Janeway ordered. “They may have already adapted to our current frequency.”

“The Khamish fighters have arrived, Captain,” Kim reported. “One of the squads is dropping several anti-matter pods between us and the Borg Scout.”

“Has the Scout changed course, Mr. Paris?” Janeway asked.

“No,” Paris replied. “In fact, its about to hit that antimatter-”

The viewscreen flashed a bright white glow. The Scout collided with the antimatter pods, which resulted in a spectacular explosion. Voyager was far enough away to avoid being caught up in the antimatter reaction, but two of the fighters weren’t so lucky. The explosion damaged one of the fighters, which in careening off course, collided with the second fighter, destroying them both.

“Signal the fighters our thanks, Mr. Kim, and give the Captain of the Delta Mother our heading,” Janeway ordered. “Mr. Paris, take us to the planet.”

“Aye Captain,” Paris replied, adjusting the ship’s course.

“The Captain of the Delta Mother is following,” Kim reported. “One of the Borg Destroyers in changing course to intercept.”

“Is it on a collision course?” Chakotay asked.

“It doesn’t look that way. A few of the Delta Squadrons have turned to engage it,” Kim replied.

“More speed, Mr. Paris,” Janeway ordered. “We need to get the landing party off before we can engage the cubes.”

“Captain, we are receiving a message from the Delta Mother,” Kim said. “They are going to make a stand here against the Destroyer so that we can make a run for the planet.”

“So long as some of us get to the planet,” Janeway replied. “Let’s see it, Mr. Kim.”

The view-screen blinked to a view of the rear of Voyager, and the crew watched hopefully as the Delta Mother engaged the first of the Borg destroyers.

——————————————————————————–

The commander of the Delta Mothership signaled her intentions to Voyager and the Colonel before she made her move. The Borg were not just going to allow the fleet to land troops on their planet, she knew that all along. But the Major felt that the Borg would have a harder time sending ships to attack the enemies that were heading for their world. They had only expected the five Attack cubes, though.

“We are coming about, Major,” the Lieutenant at the helm reported.

“Excellent. Give me a view of the Destroyer.”

The small view-screen shifted to the cube. Small flecks surrounded the giant vessel, the flecks being the attacking swarm of fighters. Several groups of fighters moved in tight formation towards the cube, each carrying out a different set of orders, in order to bring down the big cube as quickly as possible.

The Destroyer, which was vainly trying to hit the fighters that were swarming towards it with disrupter beams, did something unexpected. Invisible to those on the Delta Mother, the cube opened up a small circle on the side of their ship, and released a tiny, spherical probe. The sphere targeted one of the Khamish fighters that was moving towards the cube, and collided into it. The resulting explosion was so large that it engulfed the entire squadron that surrounded the assaulted fighter.

“What the hell was that?” demanded the Major, who stared at the blinding explosion with amazement.

“Some kind of explosion, sir,” the Corporal replied. “The sensors are reading a high level of radiation emanating from the explosion.”

“Get a fix on that squad,” the Major ordered. “How many made it through that explosion?”

“Two sir,” the Lieutenant replied. “They were out of formation at the time with engine trouble.”

“What about the rest of them?”

“Destroyed, sir,” the Lieutenant replied.

“There were two hundred fighters in that squad,” the Major sighed. “All but two of them gone.”

“Major, two more explosions have been detected. We have lost all contact with Blue and Green squads.”

“They have to be using some kind of nuclear weapon, Major,” the Lieutenant said. “A nuclear reaction involving antimatter results in a huge explosion, much larger than a conventional nuclear explosion. Any ship anywhere near such an explosion centered in a fighter squadron would be engulfed.”

“Lieutenant, order the fighters to break formation and engage the cube at point blank range,” the Major yelled across the bridge. “They won’t use those nukes so close to their ship.”

“Alpha Mother reports four of their squadrons have been lost in similar explosions,” the Lieutenant reported.

“How long until we can fire?” the Major asked.

“One minute until the MF cannon is fully charged,” The Lieutenant replied.

“Launch the Bint’Ari landing ships, and send a squad to accompany them.”

“They will reach the surface in ten minutes,” the Corporal said. “They won’t have a chance out there! There are too many Borg ships out there.”

“I don’t see us having much of a choice!” The Major replied, angrily. “Keep your station!”

“Bint’Ari ships away,” the Lieutenant reported. “White Squad is accompanying.”

“Have the Borg responded?”

“No, I would imagine that the Borg believe that they are retreating.”

“MF cannon is charged, Major.”

“Fire it then!” The Major yelled.

Seconds later, a brightly colored bolt of energy leapt from the Delta Mother’s cannon, and shot towards the Borg Destroyer. It opened up into a broad net, and collided with the cube at close to the speed of light. After the bright explosion died down, the Captain could see the barely damaged cube start to move.

“What happened?” The Major demanded. “I thought you said that the cannon was fully charged!”

“It was!” the Lieutenant nervously replied. “It seems that the fighters were unable to completely lace the cube, and there was too little antimatter to begin the chain reaction.”

“Major!” the Corporal called. “Two more Borg ships coming in to our sector. A Scout and an Attack cube!”

“Fighter status!” The Major yelled.

“White Squad is gone with the Bint’Ari, and we have lost most or all of six other squads.”

“Request assistance from the Command Mother,” the Major ordered. “Full reverse! Get us away from here!”

The mothership began to move backwards, then shuddered to a stop. The engines grew louder as they futilely tried to push the ship backwards.

“We are caught in a tractor beam!” the Corporal called. “The engines are at their maximum!”

“Activate the shield nutation program!” The Major ordered.

“It’s off-line, Major,” the Lieutenant replied. “The strain on the engines overloaded half of the computer systems. We have no shields.”

The Major continued to bark useless orders, as the Borg cube cut into the Motherships hull with a thin beam, until it reached the engine room. The beam stopped a split second before the ship erupted into a spectacular explosion.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

A long table was set in front of the holodeck arch atop a platform, floating in the air, completely surrounded by the falling water. It took the group a moment to get over the vertigo of hovering several hundred feet over the bottom of the falls, but the wait was worthwhile. The usual loud rumble of the crashing water was muted for the ease of conversation, it was set at a level that simulated the sound of the falls from a great distance. Even the Khamish Colonel and Lieutenant, who came in order to open negotiations with the Bint’Ari for their war effort, were impressed with the view, as well as the technology it took to produce such a scene.

“What is this place?” Yavitz wondered aloud, as she entered.

“It is Niagara Falls, on our home planet, Earth,” Janeway explained.

“Incredible! But how is it that this can be on your ship? And what has happened to the door we entered by?” Yavitz was amazed and confused at the same time.

“This is the holodeck,” Janeway continued. “Here we can recreate any environment, using holographic technology.”

“Simply amazing,” the Colonel said. “The kinds of training exercises we could do with technology like this!”

People gathered around the table, which was covered in various foodstuffs provided, of course, by Neelix. He attempted an approximation of the nectar that the Captain had tasted on Kham, but the results were mixed. The Khamish found the flavor quite dull compared to what they had on their world, while everyone else, who had never tasted the delicacy before, found it to be quite delicious.

“Captain,” Ira began, not wanting to waste any more time. “We owe your crewmates a debt of gratitude. If they had not been on our world when the Borg come, there is a very good chance that we would be a conquered people now. But what of the future? We can’t possibly repel another Borg attack as we are now. We need to focus on rebuilding.”

“I understand your concern,” replied Janeway. “That is why I have invited the Colonel to this reception. I was hoping that your two worlds might be able to work together so that you can cooperate in your efforts against the Borg.”

“What can we possibly offer them?” Oro asked. “They have technology decades beyond anything we are capable of. And from what I have been told of their encounters with the Borg, they certainly don’t need our small, sub-light ships for anything.”

“True that there is no way you can help us in fighting the Borg vessels,” the Commander replied. “But your men, as hard as it for me to believe, can effectively fight the Borg soldiers on the surface of the planet, whereas we have little experience in actual ground battles. We could learn, but our species is ill-suited for direct combat. Your people are already trained and have the weaponry for the task. If we are to defeat the Borg, we need to attack not only their ships, but the planets they occupy as well. And quite frankly, we don’t have the personnel to do it alone.”

“Why not just destroy the planets themselves?” Oro asked. I am certain that you could do tremendous damage to a planet’s surface, or at least contaminate the atmosphere to a lethal point from space. The Borg could all be eliminated from orbit.”

“That sounds good, in theory,” Janeway replied. “But if you are going to fight an extended campaign against the Borg, you are going to have to expand yourselves. You need resources, and colonies so the Borg can’t destroy your entire population in a single attack. Worlds that the Borg have already assimilated are perfect for that purpose. They tend to be inhabitable planets anyway, so your people could live there. They have a great deal of equipment that you could use to build ships and weapons. And if you plant colonies on conquered Borg worlds, you might be able to preserve some of the culture that the Borg destroyed when it assimilated the people that lived on that planet in the first place.”

“I am not sure,” Ira said. “Our world has been torn apart. We can’t afford to send our people away to die fighting the Borg on worlds we have never seen before!”

“We can help you rebuild,” the Colonel offered. “Admittedly, it will be difficult, as our workers tend to see all drones as incapable of intelligent thought. But I am certain that some could be found that could put aside their preconceptions in order to help you rebuild. I have examined the reports of the damage to your world, and with our help, your world could be rebuilt within one of your seasons.”

“A season? You must be mistaken. Our best estimates, so far, have put the time for rebuilding at ten. How is it that you could do it in only one?”

“Our people are very different,” the Commander explained. “Your people have lives to lead, and the rebuilding of your planet would take second place to the raising of a family, or making a living. Our workers live to work. My people do not raise families, the nurses handle the upbringing of our young. I, myself have fifteen children, and have not met a single one of them. The workers among my people thrive upon this sort of challenge. In addition, we have technology that could speed up the rebuilding process considerably.

“In exchange, you will help us fight the Borg. We will attack Borg outposts and invade Borg worlds, which our two peoples will colonize together. We will help your people build ships that can travel faster than light. We will teach you to build the ships to fight the Borg, and how to fly them.

“The Captain has told me a lot about her people, about their Federation. How many different cultures have come together for the common good of all of them. Perhaps that is an answer for us. We are both threatened by the Borg, and undoubtedly we will meet other races in a similar situation. We can join together, as those in the Captain’s Federation, and work together for our own common good.”

“This is not something we can decide now,” Yavitz explained. “There would have to be a vote among our people. We would have to work out various treaty stipulations, and endless claims that each of our people will undoubtedly have. There will be a lot of things to work out before we could make such an alliance. Our own government is bound to be in chaos soon. Most of Bint’Ari’s governmental structure was completely disrupted during the invasion. It will take some time to see to it that our own planetary affairs are in order before we worry about an interplanetary alliance.”

“You are right,” the Colonel replied. “But unfortunately, that will have to wait. According to our intelligence, there is a Borg world nearby that is bolstering its offensive capacity, and could be used as a staging point for the assimilation of both of our worlds. Right now, my world is virtually defenseless. We could repel one cube with the amount of fighters we left behind, but no more. Your world could not even stand up to that much. We must go together, and attack the Borg before they can mount their offensive. Together we can deal a serious blow to the Borg, enough that our worlds will be safe long enough to rebuild, and become strong so that the Borg won’t be so much of a threat in the future.”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice, my beloved,” Ira said. “The Colonel is right. The Borg will be back, and with the help of the Khamish, we can make our world safe.”

“Ira, the Guard is in shambles,” Yavitz protested. “Yipu is dead, and most of the Guard is scattered among the various resistance groups. We are going to rebuild the entire military from scratch. Who will organize it? You and I will both be busy rebuilding other area of government, and organizing the rebuilding of the major cities.”

“You are right, as always,” Ira replied. “So, we will need a new Minister of the Guard. Oro? Are you prepared to continue to serve your people?”

“Me? But I’m bound! I can’t be in the military!” Oro protested.

“Normally, you would be correct,” Ira said. “But, it would seem that you have been in the military now for the last several weeks anyway. And, at present, I can’t see keeping to old customs that will hold back our people. And you of all our people have the most experience with these aliens. I think that you would be the ideal person to work with the Khamish and Voyager.”

“Where are Tuvok and B’Elanna?” Oro asked. “I thought that they would be here.”

“The Doctor insisted that they not be allowed to leave sickbay for a while. It seems that B’Elanna is in fairly bad shape. She has two cracked ribs, along with the dehydration and malnutrition that they both share. It seems they didn’t take very good care of themselves while they were on the planet.”

“Food was rare,” Oro grimly replied. “There were several days when no one ate.”

“They also require different nutrients than your bodies do,” the Captain replied. “What is healthy to you is lacking in their species. But there was no way to avoid it, I am happy they are still alive.”

“Not to sound impatient, but time is short,” the Colonel interrupted. “You undoubtedly have a lot of work to do in order to put together an army for the attack. The sooner we start, the better. I need to get back to my ship and contact our Queen, and inform her of our status, as well as having a diplomat dispatched to your world. We may not have a lot of time left. An attack cube has already been detected in orbit of the Kalat star, and it is bound to be dispatched sometime in the near future to at least one of our worlds. I would like to have the fleet on its way before that happens.”

“You are right. We should return to the surface,” Yavitz replied. “Could we be directed to your transporter room, Captain?”

“I will escort you there myself,” Janeway replied, as she gave the ‘exit’ command to the computer. The Khamish and Bint’Ari leaders followed behind her, each still a bit nervous about transporting again.

——————————————————————————–

“Mr. Tuvok, you may go now,” The Doctor said. Tuvok rose to his feet, and walked out of sickbay. He heard Torres complaining to another of the Doctors before the doors close that she was ready to go as well, but he would not allow it.

“Your body has been through a severe trauma. You don’t need to be off doing whatever it is that you think is so important! If you do not stop your complaining, I will sedate you.”

As the door to sickbay opened, Tuvok found Seven of Nine, who was about to enter sickbay. She stepped back, and allowed the Vulcan to exit. He turned down the hall with a greeting, and she followed.

“Mr. Tuvok,” she greeted, handing him a PADD. “I have analyzed the data you retrieved from the Borg database. It is fully decoded and the information is downloaded onto that PADD.”

“Excellent,” Tuvok replied. “Was there any information that would prove useful to the Khamish, that we could give to them before we depart?”

“Yes,” Seven replied, as the two entered a turbolift. “There is a Borg fleet massing around Planet 0495, which orbits the star the Khamish call Kalat. The Khamish do not have sufficient force to overcome this fleet. The eventual objective of these cubes is to hunt down Voyager, and then proceed to the Alpha Quadrant and begin the assimilation of the Federation. I believe that it would be best if Voyager accompanied their fleet.”

“Bridge,” Tuvok ordered the turbolift. “I was on my way to see the Captain. We should discuss this with her before we make any further conclusions concerning what would be best for Voyager.”

“Agreed,” Seven replied.

Tuvok tucked the PADD containing the analysis of the Borg data he had downloaded from their computer under his arm, and the two made their way to see the Captain.

“Come in,” Janeway replied to the chime. She smiled when she saw Tuvok and Seven enter the ready room, and offered them a seat. Seven, as usual, remained standing. Tuvok accepted the offer.

“It is good to see you on your feet, Tuvok,” Janeway smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“I have been analyzing some of the data I retrieved from the Borg network, and I believe that it would be in our best interests to accompany the Khamish in their attack on the first Borg world in this cluster,” Seven replied.

“We can’t get involved in a Borg war out here,” Janeway said. “The Borg are a dire threat to the Federation, yes, but we are in no position to stop an invasion. We would do better to gather as much information about the Borg as possible, and return safely to the Federation with it. They could use it to develop an effective defense strategy.”

“Normally, I would agree with you,” Tuvok replied. “But the information Seven has found in the Borg download convinces me of the contrary. It would seem that there is a world, designated by the Borg as 0495, that is in orbit around the star the Khamish call Kalat. It is the assigned rendezvous point of six full attack cubes, the first of which was destroyed above Bint’Ari a short time ago. The others are to first intercept and destroy Voyager, then move on to the Federation itself.”

“But why?” Janeway asked. “Why would they mobilize such a force to eliminate us? Surely the Borg could ignore us, a single ship, and move on to the Federation if they so chose.”

“It would seem that the Borg consider Voyager to be the deciding factor in both the failed assimilation of Kham and Bint’Ari. They believe that elimination of Voyager will allow for easy assimilation of both of those worlds.”

“The Collective is also disturbed by the inconsistencies in the data they have on Federation technology,” Seven added. “The appearance of the Enterprise at system J-25 and Voyager’s presence this far from Federation space has the Borg confused. The information they have on this ship is accurate, they know of its speed limitations, but they do not understand how you could have gotten here while operation within those limitations.”

“It is not like we have been operating outside those limits,” Janeway argued. “The Caretaker brought us here, and Q brought the Enterprise to J-25.”

“True, but the Borg are unaware of these facts. They believe that you are too unpredictable to be ignored. It would seem that they believe that the Federation could transport another vessel close enough to their home-system, and cause serious damage to the collective. They mean to prevent that occurrence. My presence here is also a factor. They do not know what information you have obtained from me that might be damaging to the collective. The Borg mean to eliminate or re-assimilate me in order to prevent any potentially damaging information to make it back to the Federation.”

“So they are going to get rid of us, then move on to overwhelm the Federation with five cubes? We had hard enough time dealing with one at Wolf-359. Five would be unstoppable.”

“Agreed. If we continue on with the Khamish fleet, however, we could eliminate the Borg armada, and prevent such an invasion.”

“But if Voyager were involved in the destruction of the Armada, wouldn’t the collective view Voyager as a greater threat, and put more resources towards our destruction?”

“Possibly, but I believe that the Borg will find that they have also underestimated the Khamish,” Seven replied. “If the Borg lose a world that they have successfully assimilated, I believe that they will assign this cluster a higher priority than Voyager, and we will be able to safely go on our way.”

“Meanwhile, the Khamish and Bint’Ari are condemned to constant war.”

“Both worlds would have faced that eventuality,” Tuvok reasoned. “Our presence here, now, is increasing their chances of surviving future invasions.”

“Were you able to discover any weaknesses that we could take advantage of in the data you obtained?” Janeway asked.

“The Borg consider their ships to be indestructible – the pinnacle of available technology. They do not analyze the design structure of the ships for improvement. A ship that is lost in battle is considered defective as a whole, and forgotten about. As a result, data about ships design is probably hard to come by. My preliminary scans of the data found no references to design or production of cubes at all.”

“There are several points on a Borg cube that are more susceptible to heavy damage than others,” Seven added. “I will enter those points into the ship’s computer, to be recalled later during targeting.”

“What about the collective network itself? Could you modify Voyager’s computers to interface with it? Perhaps we could plant some sort of command into the consciousness, like Commander Data did during the Borg attack on Earth.”

“That would not be advisable,” Seven replied. “Once Voyager’s computers are linked with the Collective, your ship would instantly be under the control of the Borg.”

“So Voyager would be assimilated from the inside out,” Janeway concluded. “But Data managed it, and for all intents and purposes, he is a computer.”

“A computer that has awareness of it self,” Tuvok corrected. “Commander Data is not simply a machine waiting to accept commands, like our ship’s computer is. Data could protect himself from the onslaught of a Borg consciousness for an indefinite amount of time. As far as Voyager is concerned, the Borg would simply have to realize that it was linked to it, and they would instantly have control.”

“In addition, the Borg radically restructured its internal security after that incident,” Seven added, “Such sabotage could not happen again.”

“That makes sense,” Janeway concluded. “So we are faced with a fight. We need to do some modifications on our weapons and shields, set them to automatically rotate frequencies so that the Borg will have a hard time adapting.”

“Agreed. Lieutenant Torres is scheduled to be released from sickbay in less than three hours. I believe that she might be able to suggest a few more possible improvements to Voyager’s systems that might work to our advantage.”

Janeway smiled. “Certainly. If anything, Maquis were used to fighting ships that were far superior to their own. We should start on the modifications to the shields immediately, and get that automation program up as soon as we can. The Colonel is eager to get underway, but I think I’ll be able to talk her into delaying her departure long enough to make the modifications. After all, having Voyager along certainly won’t reduce their chances of success.” Tuvok nodded in agreement.

“Tuvok, I want you to have Ensign Nikolayevich beam over to the Khamish Command Mother, and have her see about adapting their shields to a similar frequency modulation program. I know they have a fairly basic shield design that might not be sophisticated enough to handle such a program, but it is worth a try. If a cube does attack one of the Motherships, I would like to have it as safe as possible. Not only is there a lot of soldiers on each of those ships, the other Motherships couldn’t carry any more fighters. There would be a lot of those fighters stranded if a Mothership were destroyed, and the Bint’Ari failed to take the planet.”

Tuvok rose to his feet. “Agreed. I will do so immediately. Also, I will be holding two security drills before we depart, in case the Borg should beam on board Voyager.”

“Good idea, Tuvok. Have B’Elanna give me an estimate of when we’ll be ready to go as soon as she has one.” Tuvok nodded and left the room.

“Seven, how do you think you will handle another direct confrontation with the Borg?” Janeway asked.

“I am uncertain what you mean, Captain.”

“I still don’t know exactly what happened to you on that shuttle when you and Harry encountered that Borg scout, but this situation is very similar. In fact, I would classify it as much more dangerous to you. How will such a large part of the Collective so close to you affect you?”

“My initial detection of the Borg made me feel, hopeful. Returning to the Borg was something I thought I always wanted. But at the moment I could have made such a return a reality, I became afraid. It seems I have grown to value this individuality you imposed upon me. So I lashed out in anger. I am not entirely sure why I became so angry, but it resulted in the destruction of the Scout.

“I do not believe I have any further desire to return to the Collective. I don’t think my proximity to the Collective will alter that belief.”

Janeway smiled. “Please assist B’Elanna with the modifications.”

Seven of Nine nodded, and left the ready room.

——————————————————————————–

Tom walked into sickbay and had no trouble finding B’Elanna, being the only patient there at the time. After assuring two of the Doctors that his visit was purely personal and that he wouldn’t cause any trouble, he was allowed to see the bedridden Klingon, alone.

B’Elanna’s face lit up as soon as she saw him. She sat up and greeted his embrace with one of her own.

“Miss me?” she asked, half jokingly.

“Not really,” Tom replied, after a moment of thought. B’Elanna replied by shoving him away, playfully.

“Well I certainly didn’t miss you at all,” she teased.

“OK, I admit it. I was worried sick about you. I was almost certain that you had been either killed or assimilated, and I haven’t been able to sleep almost the entire time. And I am relieved to have you back.”

“That’s better,” B’Elanna replied. She reached up, pulled his head gently forward, and kissed him.

After a few seconds, Tom sat down on the medical bed beside her, and grabbed her hand.

“I thought I would keep you company, in your last hour of exile,” Tom smiled. “I just got off duty, and I’m not due back on the bridge for another nine hours.”

“Oh, no your not,” B’Elanna replied. “Your going to your quarters and getting some sleep. I’m not going to fight the Borg with a pilot falling asleep at the helm.”

Tom stood up, mockingly offended. “Over a week apart, and you don’t even want to spend an hour with me?”

B’Elanna smiled. “I know six Doctors that would love to throw you out of here, mister.”

“Fine,” Tom relented. He leaned down and kissed B’Elanna goodbye. “I suppose I’m going to get some sleep.”

“Sweet dreams,” B’Elanna replied. “Come and see me before you come on duty. I am sure I’ll need a break by then.”

“It’s a date,” Tom replied.

——————————————————————————–

As Natasha re-materialized, it suddenly occurred to her how much had changed in the last several days. Not too long ago she was dreading her job, being the handyman for the lesser departments onboard the ship. In the last few days, though, she had spent more time on away missions than she had in the rest of her career. When Lieutenant Torres had returned to duty, she had expected everything to return to the way it was. Yet here she was, beaming over to the Khamish Mothership, in order to modify their shields. She smiled at the thought of never having to fix another fried incubator or broken replicator.

She was greeted in the engine room of the Command Mother by the Major in charge of engineering. She, as well as the rest of the engineering officers, were a four-armed variety of Khamish. Natasha though it made sense, as she could remember hundreds of times she wished she had another set of arms.

“The Colonel says that you have a way to make our shields better,” the Engineer said. “The main console is this way.”

Natasha followed the Engineer towards the far side of the circular room, and marveled at how similar it was to the engine room on Voyager. Everything in the room was black, with the exception of the console screens. They glowed a bright blue, with the various keypad next to each screen were either red or white. The lighting in the room was a dull florescent, and Natasha could see the strips of red along the walls that undoubtedly flashed during an alert. In the center was a tall, cylindrical pillar that housed a nuclear reaction chamber, rather than a matter/antimatter reaction chamber like Voyager.

The console the Engineer directed Natasha to was identical to the rest in the room. In front of it sat a medium sized stool. The screen was inclined down so that one could sit while working. On the screen was a diagram of the ship, and lights flashed where each of the ship’s shield generators were located. Across the bottom read the shield frequency, 224.8 mH.

“How do you modify the shield frequency?” Nikolayevich asked.

The Engineer reached over and moved the screen through a series of menus, and stopped at one that read ‘Shield Frequency Control.’

“What good will changing the frequency of our shields do?” the Engineer asked.

“A Borg cube uses a different strategy than the Scouts this ship fought earlier. It will attempt to lock on a tractor beam, then it will use a cutter to strip away pieces of the hull in addition to conventional attacks. If you keep your shields at the same frequency, the Borg will adapt to them, and they will be useless. Setting your computer to rotate the shields frequency randomly will give the ship the extra time it needs to divert the cube’s attack.”

The Engineer rubbed an antennae, then turned and barked some orders to a nearby officer. She then turned her attention back to Natasha.

“What you are suggesting is going to take a lot of work. We did not design the shields to switch frequencies, we never thought that the need would arise. But I think we might be able to do it. We will have to run another link to the Shield Control mechanism to the main computer, and then write the program that will allow the shields to rotate frequencies automatically.” The Engineer leaned over and punched a few figures into the computer. “It will take several seconds for the shields to change frequencies, but it is better than nothing.”

“How long do you think it will take to do the work?” Natasha asked.

“Probably another ten of your hours, but the Colonel will want to do this on all five Mothers. Each of the Chief Engineers will have to come over here so that they can be instructed on what to do. That will take another hour, at least. You are welcome to stay, if you like.”

“No, I’m afraid I need to be getting back to my ship. We still have some work to do to ready ourselves for the attack.”

“I was pleased when I heard that Voyager would be accompanying us. Now I know we will be victorious!” The Engineer was beaming.

“Don’t be so certain,” Natasha replied. “We are bound to be in for one hell of a fight.”

“If your going to have an Armageddon,” The Engineer replied, “You might as well make it interesting.”

Natasha couldn’t argue, but she would rather live to tell stories about it.

“If you need any assistance, contact Voyager. Someone will answer any questions you might have.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

B’Elanna, seated inside of the shuttle, was having a hard time staying awake. She had not gotten any sleep since the invasion of Topachan, and that was well over a day ago. She was hoping that they could destroy the cube as soon as possible, so that she could finally rest

“How long after we arrive on their ship do we have before the bombs detonate?” Yipu asked.

“You will have to detonate the bombs manually,” Tuvok replied, “the transporter may adversely effect the timers. The last person to beam aboard will signal each of you when her is ready. You will all set the bombs’ countdown clocks at that point .”

“What can we expect from the Borg?” Oyi asked.

“The Borg tend to ignore individuals,” Tuvok explained. “As long as you do not tamper with any of the systems on the Borg ship, they should ignore you. However, since you will each have a potentially lethal weapon with you, there is no way to predict their reaction. If they recognize the bombs for what they are, you can expect heavy resistance. Several Borg will come upon you, attempting to eliminate the threat.

“Use careful judgment, though. If a single Borg is coming towards you, chances are it cares nothing for what you are doing, and it will pass you by. Do not attack it, and do not get in its way. If the Borg mean to attack you, they will come forth in greater numbers.”

“So you are saying, if we have to fight, we will most probably be very much outnumbered.”

“That is accurate. However, the corridors on a Borg ship are quite narrow. The Borg will only be able to attack you two at a time, if you are positioned properly. When you are onboard, you will see what I mean,” Tuvok replied. After a moment of silence, he continued. “If there are no more questions, please prepare for departure. We must get as close as we can to the Borg cube, as the shuttles transporters are short range.”

Without another word, the group crowded onto the shuttle, as Tuvok and B’Elanna made their way to the cockpit.

“Lieutenant,” Tuvok began as the shuttle lifted off of the ground, “it would seem that Voyager is indeed still in this star cluster.”

“How do you know?” Torres asked.

“In analyzing the data from the Borg database, I came upon a reference to NCC-74656. It would seem that Voyager prevented another cube from assimilating a near-by civilization nearly a day after our scheduled rendezvous.”

“Maybe Voyager is still looking for us,” Torres suggested.

“There is a strong possibility,” Tuvok replied. “Before departing the area, Captain Janeway would undoubtedly retraced our steps, in order to determine out fate. If Voyager scans the area we were harvesting for missing diallosilicate, and realizes that we had not yet begun to gather the substance from the last nebula, they might search the area more thoroughly.”

“While we are transporting the Bint’Ari over to the cube, we might as well send a distress signal. If Voyager is nearby, they might pick it up.”

“Agreed. However, it seems that the Borg have a renewed interest in the assimilation of the Federation. The collective views Voyager’s as a considerable threat. They mean to eliminate Voyager, then move on to the Federation in greater force, to prevent a reoccurrence of a Federation starship so close to their home system.” Tuvok explained.

“Home system? I always thought that the Borg were decentralized. The whole concept of a home-base for the Borg does not seem right,” Torres said.

“True, but the Borg had to begin somewhere, and it is logical to assume that if the world that the Borg first came from were somehow destroyed or conquered that it would cause a serious disruption throughout the collective.”

“We are about to enter orbit,” Torres reported. “The Borg cube will be in transporter range in less than a minute.”

Tuvok rose from his seat, relinquishing control to Torres, and went to the back of the shuttle to prepare the Bint’Ari for their beam-over. They were divided into groups of two, and each pair was assigned one of the warheads that were stored in the far back of the shuttle.

Yipu, who was paired with Oyi, watched nervously as the two groups before them de-materialized with their warheads. The pair then picked up their warhead, and stepped forward to the transport area.

“Does it hurt?” Yipu asked Tuvok, a but nervously.

“The process is painless,” Tuvok replied, “Though you will experience a momentary disorientation as you rematerialize. That can be avoided if you close your eyes during transport.”

Yipu closed his eyes tight, as did Oyi. There was no reason to act falsely courageous now. After they had transported, they would not be coming back.

“The Borg see us, Tuvok,” Torres reported. The shuttle shook violently. “They are trying to lock on a tractor beam…”

Those were the last words Yipu and Oyi heard. The two opened their eyes after the unfamiliar tingle of transport faded. The first thing the two noticed was how dark it was onboard the ship. It seemed that the Borg did not light an area unless it was absolutely necessary, which it rarely ever was.

Yipu looked up and down the corridor they materialized in, and saw the endless row of Borg lining the wall. He was struck with the momentary fear that they might immediately attack, and he unconsciously grabbed the hilt of his aria. But the Borg remained motionless in their regeneration units, and Yipu relaxed. It seemed what Tuvok said about the Borg ignoring individuals was right.

Yipu noticed the fear in his comrade’s eyes, and placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. Oyi smiled wearily in return. Waiting was the only thing the two could do now, and Tuvok had said that the transport of all fourteen people would take several minutes. So the two sat down, waiting for the signal from the last group.

The clang of footsteps filled the hallway. Yipu and Oyi both leapt to their feet, ready to pull their arias out of their scabbards. A single Borg approached from one end of the hallway, and Yipu glanced down the other direction to make certain that no more were on their way. Satisfied that the Borg were not alerted to their intentions, he relaxed his grip on his blade, and began to sit back down.

Oyi, however, tightened his grip on his sword. Yipu reassured his companion, but Oyi did nothing but stare intently at the Borg who was coming closer by the second. Suddenly, Oyi burst forward, and attacked the lone Borg with more fury than Yipu had ever seen. Yipu, knowing the Borg would not ignore them now, drew his sword and watched for the Borg that would undoubtably arrive to eliminate the threat.

“What were you thinking!” Yipu yelled at his companion. “That Borg was alone, and would have ignored us. Why did you have to attack it? Now we are going to be up to our necks in Borg!” As he said that, two Borg removed themselves from their regeneration stations and moved towards the two Bint’Ari.

“You don’t understand,” Oyi replied, angrily. He was so nervous that he could barely hold his sword.

“If that was some kind of play to go down in a blaze of glory, then you are damned right I don’t understand. Your hotheadedness may have cost us our planet!”

“That Borg,” Oyi spat, and he glared at his companion, “was my father.”

Yipu did not answer. He was uncertain what he could say. No one from his family had been assimilated, he had no family. If one of his parents had lived to see this day, and had been assimilated, he might have reacted the same way. To see your own father taken from you, and transformed into a monster would be something very hard to bear.

Finally, Oyi shook off his shock and confronted the Borg that was about to come upon him. Both men fought hard, pushing the Borg that had lines up to confront them further and further away from the warhead. Finally, the communicator attached to the bomb beeped, the signal that all the Bint’Ari and the warheads were safely aboard. Yipu rushed back, and pressed the button that would start the timer on the detonator. Quickly he stood back up and lifted his sword, just in time to deflect the blow of the Borg that had caught up to him.

The fighting continued furiously until the very end, when both sides were taken up in the explosion.

——————————————————————————–

The noise inside the shuttlecraft was almost deafening. Every alert klaxon B’Elanna had ever heard was sounding, as well as a few she was completely unfamiliar with. It took all her concentration to ignore the alerts and keep transporting people over to the cube.

It was no strain for Tuvok to ignore the sirens, however. He was more concerned with keeping the shuttle out of the Borg tractor beam. Tuvok was an average pilot, but continually rotating the frequency of the shields while dodging Borg shots was something that was barely beyond his reach, by his own calculations.

“Lieutenant Torres, I will not be able to evade the Borg tractors for much longer,” Tuvok said, hoping his encouragement would speed her up a bit.

“I can’t go any faster! The transporter’s recharge cycle is longer than usual because of all the damage. Just one more-”

The shuttle’s engines whined, and sparks flew from the transporter system in the back of the shuttle.

“The Borg have locked on to us with a tractor beam,” Tuvok reported.

“What happened?” Ehy, one of the two remaining Bint’Ari in the back asked.

“We have to drop the shields each time we use the transporter,” B’Elanna replied with a silent curse. “They caught us mid-transport. Damn! The transporter buffers have been damaged. We can only send one pattern at a time!”

“Send the bomb! We have to get it over there!” Ehy cried.

“This may be our last opportunity,” Tuvok interrupted. “Our shields are draining rapidly. Once they go down again, the Borg will cut through our hull and we will be assimilated. If we send the bomb, no one will be there to signal the others.”

“Then do it!” Ehy cried. “We need to-”

Ehy disappeared in the familiar blue transporter effect. Almost immediately a loud clang was heard, and the hull of the shuttle began to squeal.

“The Borg have targeted us with a cutting beam,” Tuvok explained. As he did so, a bright green beam pierced the shuttle, and began to dissect the hull. A force fields automatically went up between the cockpit and the hull breach.

The final Bint’Ari, unfortunately, was on the other side of the force field. A panicked scream tried to escape his lips as the air seeped out of the damaged hull. Unable to hold onto his seat, the Bint’Ari was dragged around the compartment by the escaping air, and eventually into the still energized cutting beam which was making its way through the shuttle. He was fused into the deck plate of the shuttle, his remains nothing more than a solid brown puddle.

“How long until we lose engines?” B’Elanna asked, her eyes on the cutting beam.

“Nineteen seconds,” Tuvok replied.

“And until the bombs detonate?”

Tuvok said nothing, merely gesturing towards his console. B’Elanna peeked over, and saw two countdowns, each identical to less than a hundredth of a second. She held her breath.

Suddenly, the cutting beam stopped, and the tractor beam was released. Tuvok wasted no time. He turned the shuttle around and ordered B’Elanna to get the shields back up.

“What happened?”

“I would surmise that the Borg have detected the warheads, and have deemed our assimilation a waste of resources, for the moment,” Tuvok replied.

“I’ve got minimal shields,” B’Elanna reported. “I hope its enough.

“The cube has detonated,” Tuvok said. “Shock-wave approaching. Brace for impact.”

The force of the explosion was felt as the shock-wave slammed into the hull of the shuttle. The star-field outside began to spin rapidly, the planet below moving in and out of the shuttle’s viewfield. With the shields still up and the shuttle intact, it was a small matter for Tuvok to stop the shuttles spin.

With no more emotion than if he had just laced his boots, Tuvok turned the shuttle back towards the surface. Torres, on the other-hand, stretched out her arms. Though she felt a range of emotions, from the thrill of victory to the sorrow of the loss of so many men, her body had other priorities. She fell back into her seat and promptly fell asleep.

——————————————————————————–

Xytin was beaming. Her abrupt change in demeanor had brought more than a curious glance from those nearby in the officer’s mess. Finally Chakotay, who had accompanied Xytin to get something to eat, had to ask why she was so happy.

“They’ve done it,” she explained. “The cube has been destroyed!”

“How do you know?” Chakotay asked. “Voyager moved back behind the nebula, so that the cube would not detect it. Since then, we haven’t seen anything it has done.”

“Ito has seen it, so I have seen it,” Xytin explained, with a grin plastered to his face.

“Ito is your husband, right?” Chakotay asked.

“He is my bond-mate, but I believe it is the same,” she replied. “It is so wonderful for both of us. He was without my voice for so long, and to be together again, especially now, is quite gratifying.”

“I think I understand what you are feeling,” explained Chakotay. “Is there any part of your experiences that are not shared with that of your other?”

“None. Our minds are joined completely. Anything he knows, remembers, feels, or otherwise experiences I can remember as clearly as he can,” Xytin explained. “What is this drink called? It is positively fascinating!”

“Hot chocolate, an Earth drink,” Chakotay replied, with a smile. “What does Ito think of your experiences on Voyager?”

“He is thrilled. We were always the type of people that suspected that there was indeed life on other planets, but we had no idea what type of people they would be,” Xytin replied. “When the Borg came, we knew for certain that there was alien life. Unfortunately, the Borg were not very friendly. We wondered if all of the other life in the universe were like the Borg. That was a frightening prospect. Now we know that there are those in the universe that are like us, peaceful and kind to other races.”

“We like to think of ourselves as kind and understanding, but we do falter from time to time,” said Chakotay.

“Of course, no one is perfect. Is it true that Ti’Hat and the Vulcan, B’Elanna and Tuvok, is it true that they are from this ship?” Xytin asked.

“Yes, it is. In fact, they are both very good friends of mine,” Chakotay explained. “For a while, I thought that they might be dead. When the Captain told me that you knew where they
were, you can’t imagine how relieved I was.”

“I am glad to have eased your concerns,” replied Xytin. “But your friends have been the saviors of my people. If you never lost them, my world might be conquered now.”

“Very true,” replied Chakotay.

“Mr. Chakotay, and Ms. Xytin! How are you doing?” Neelix approached (again proudly wearing his “chef’s hat”). “I trust the chocolate was to your liking?”

“Very good, Neelix. You are the first man I’ve met that could make anything so delicious. The men on my world don’t often cook.”

“Thank you, but there is more to come! And, if I do say so myself, you are in for a treat. For your dinner, I have prepared a delicious Vulcan delicacy, and if I do say so myself, it is absolutely fabulous!”

“I am certain it will live up to your renown culinary standards, Neelix,” Chakotay sarcastically replied.

——————————————————————————–

Janeway sipped her coffee as she looked over the sensor reports detailing the small Borg cube that they encountered. She was unable to discuss it with Seven of Nine before, as she was sent to the Command Mothership to assist in repairs. Though the Khamish reluctantly agreed to allow men to assist in the repairs, Janeway felt it best to send as many women as possible. Seven was an obvious choice.

Janeway set down her mug and replied to the chime at her ready room door.

“Come in.”

Seven of Nine walked in, and as usual remained standing in front of the table, even though Janeway had offered her a seat.

“Are the repairs aboard the Khamish ship completed already?” Janeway asked.

“No,” Seven replied. “But they are far ahead of schedule. I thought I would be more useful aboard Voyager.”

Janeway smiled, and decided to ignore the minor breach in protocol. “I suppose you are right. I did want to talk to you about the Borg ships we just encountered. Janeway offered the PADD with the sensor report on it to Seven.

Seven regarded the PADD for a moment, and looked back at Janeway, “Your question.”

“We have never encountered a Borg vessel of that type,” Janeway replied. “I was wondering if you could give me some information about it. I would like to know what to expect if we run into another.”

“It is a mid-sized attack vessel designed for maximum maneuverability. It is designed to combat species with a technology rating between .7 and 2.3. The Federation is classified with a technology rating of 3.7, so it would be inefficient to send such a vessel to aid in its assimilation. It also has a very limited range, and would not be well suited for a long journey to the Alpha Quadrant. ”

“Bridge to Captain,” Janeway’s communicator beeped.

“Go ahead Mr. Kim.”

“Captain, the Khamish Command Mother is signaling that it is ready to go,” Kim reported. “Our engineering staff will be aboard shortly.”

“Excellent,” Janeway praised. “Well ahead of schedule, too. Is there any word on that Borg cube that we detected heading towards the planet?”

“Xytin says that it has been destroyed,” Kim replied. “The probe we launched towards the planet seems to agree. We detected a large amount of radiation, indicating a nuclear explosion in orbit around the planet. No sign of the Borg cube has been detected.”

“Well, if there is a Borg cube still there, I should like to have the element of surprise working for us,” Janeway said. “Mr. Kim, signal the Khamish Command Mother. We are going to proceed towards the planet at full impulse through the nebula. Let them know that they should be prepared to deploy their fighters as soon as we emerge on the other side.”

“Aye Captain.”

“Well Mr. Paris? Lets get a move on,” Janeway ordered, as she and Seven strode onto the bridge. Janeway was pleased. Not only did it look like they had found the missing crewmembers, they also might not have to face a Borg attack cube after all. Things were developing nicely. With any luck, Voyager could be on her way back towards the Alpha Quadrant within hours.

A pinkish-blue haze filled the view-screen as Voyager entered the nebula. Janeway had always found nebulae to be fascinatingly beautiful phenomenon, but this one gave her a sense of dread. This particular cloud had been the center of some very serious problems, and Janeway hoped that they rest of their trip through this cluster would go a lot more smoothly.

“We’re coming out of the nebula,” Paris announced. Almost immediately, the pink screen blackened, and several distance stars twinkled into view. Directly ahead, one of the stars grew in size dramatically, as the fleet closed in on it. Janeway ordered an all-stop, so that they could make a sensor sweep of the area, in case any Borg ships were still lurking.

“There is a large field of debris around the fourth planet. It was definitely a Borg cube. It seems that the Borg have been quite busy on the planet as well. I am detecting heavy damage to cities on the surface, as well as some atmospheric contamination. It seems that the Borg had already begun to assimilate the planet’s environment before they were defeated.”

“So you aren’t detecting any Borg on the surface?” Janeway asked.

“None yet,” Kim replied, “But the scan will take some time.”

“What about the shuttle? Is there any sign of it?” Chakotay asked, from the front of the bridge.”

“Nothing yet. I’ll try hailing-” Kim replied, and he hurried to send the message.

“Tuvok to Voyager,” the monotonous yet happily anticipated voice that filled the bridge began, “I am reading you. I am transmitting the coordinates of the shuttle to you now.”

“It is good to hear your voice, Tuvok,” Janeway beamed. “Is Lieutenant Torres with you?”

“She is, though she is currently resting. I would not advise waking her, as it has been a long time since she has taken to opportunity to get some sleep. The last person who tried to wake her was given adequate reason to fear for his life.”

“Understood, Tuvok. We will be sending a party down shortly. Also, a Bint’Ari native we discovered in a heavily damaged ship will be accompanying the landing party. Her name is Xytin. Are you familiar with an Ito, her husband?”

“Indeed I am. I will send word to him immediately that his wife will be arriving shortly. I shall also notify the head of the government that representatives from Voyager will be arriving within the hour. The shuttle is presently near the building that is being used for governmental activities, but the First Citizens are not there. There is yet another ‘celebration’ going on, it will take some time to determine the location of either of them.”

“Very well Tuvok, we shall see you shortly. By the way, I have heard some very interesting stories about you two from this Xytin. I am very much looking forward to reading your report.”

Tuvok replied in something frighteningly close to a grumble. “Indeed. I, however, am not looking forward to writing it. Tuvok out.”

As the channel was closed, Janeway let a chuckle escape her lips. “Something tells me that Tuvok did not enjoy his stay on Bint’Ari very much,” she joked.

“Are you kidding?” Chakotay replied, equally amused. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tuvok enjoy himself.”

“True,” she replied. “But I’ll bet B’Elanna had the time of her life. It is not too often that she gets to indulge her Klingon half, and a full scale ground war against the Borg might be just the thing she needed.”

“Poor Tuvok. His entire stay on that planet must have been a nightmare. I can only imagine the total lack of logic that prevailed down there.”

“I’m just happy to have them back,” Janeway replied, as she rose from her seat. “Chakotay, you have the bridge. I need to get ready to beam down.” With that, she made her way into the turbolift.

——————————————————————————–

Word had spread quickly around the capital about the arrival of Voyager and the Khamish fleet. Within minutes of Tuvok’s contact with the ship, both of the First Citizens, several members of the Council, and hundreds of Bint’Ari people had gathered near the beam-down sight. After all, for most of the world, the only experience with aliens that they had was with the Borg. Many were afraid, but most were curious about this new alien species.

Within an hour of their conversation, Janeway beamed down with Kim, Nikolayevich, and the Khamish Colonel. The sight of the two humans brought little reaction from the Bint’Ari, since they had already seen Tuvok, who looked very similar to a human in most respects. The Khamish Colonel instilled a sense of shock and panic in the crowd, however. Tuvok and Torres immediately went forward to greet their crewmates, with no more than a passing glance at the quadruped Kham.

Yavitz and her other both hesitated at the sight of the large insectoid, but they thought it best to present their best faces, and greet the unusual being with respect.

“Captain Janeway, I presume,” Yavitz began, deciding it best to begin with the obvious. After the Captain returned her smile with a nod, she continued. “I am Yavitz, and this is my other, Ira. We are the Usumi of Bint’Ari. It is a pleasure to welcome you to are world.”

“Thank you,” Janeway replied with a smile. “This is Ensign Kim, and this is the commander of the Khamish fleet.”

“Does the Commander have a name?” Ira asked nervously.

“You would not be able to pronounce my name, nor could we translate it into something you could,” the Colonel replied, trying to keep the contempt out of her voice. After all, it was difficult to even imagine a drone as the head of a government. “You may refer to me as Colonel.”

“It is a pleasure to meet all of you,” Yavitz said. “I’d imagine that you would like to see your friends to your ship, but I would like to invite you all back for a reception later this evening. I know that we haven’t much here, after the Borg’s attack, but I think that some sort of official function should be in order.”

“Actually, we were hoping that you would be our guest on Voyager. Normally, we would be honored to accept your invitation to meet on the planet, but we feel there is some cultural differences that we should work out that might require a more neutral setting,” Janeway said with a glance towards the Colonel, who clearly was in shock at the number of men that were around her.

“Aboard your ship?” Ira asked. “That would be incredible. We would be honored.”

“Then it is settled. Tuvok and B’Elanna, I would like you to beam to Voyager, so that The Doctor can check you out. Ensign Nikolayevich will see to it that the shuttle makes it back to Voyager.” Janeway turned to Yavitz. “We shall see you again in six hours. Ensign Nikolayevich will let you know what to expect during beam up.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Yavitz replied. “I am looking forward to it.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

“The Captain must have a lot on her mind,” the Colonel replied. “Are the fighters deployed yet?”

“All of the motherships have deployed except for Delta Mother. She was the farthest away from the nebula when the order was given.”

“Relay that Delta is to stand by. We don’t a cube sneaking up on us while the bulk of our forces are fighting with smaller ships,” the Colonel ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

“Have the Borg responded to our attack posture?” The Colonel asked.

“No, sir. They know that we are here, I am certain of it. But they are just sitting there, doing nothing. I don’t understand it.”

“Send them a message stating our intentions, Lieutenant,” the Colonel ordered.

“They are not replying.”

“Well then, send Beta and Gamma groups in for attack. We’ll see what they respond to that.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Khamish Colonel watched confidently as the two groups of fighters surged past their motherships towards the Borg ships. She was struck by the ironic beauty of it. There were five thousand small ships in each of those groups, and the great mass moved forward at her order. The Beta and Gamma Motherships looked naked after their fighters went forth, when compared with the Delta ships, who’s full compliment of fighters still surrounded it.

For a moment, the Colonel wished that she could be in her fighter, one of the tiny ships attacking the Borg. Even though she was arguably the most important part of the attacking Khamish fleet, she felt that those who were out in the fighters doing the dirty work were the ones that were really doing the fighting. But when there were Motherships involved, her place was on one of them. She would have to be content with that.

After the battle had been going on for several minutes, the Colonel returned from the viewport to her Lieutenant’s side.

“How are they doing out there?” she asked.

“Very well!” the Lieutenant excitedly replied. “It seems that those smaller cubes can’t even stand up to our bolt guns, when so many are firing at once. Each of the three Scout cubes are damaged about twenty five percent, and they haven’t even been laced yet.”

“What about the larger one?”

“It is proving to be a problem. Bolt-guns are having no effect, just like on a full-attack cube. But this smaller one is much more precise. Casualties around that cube are high.”

“How soon until we can fire with the monofilament cannon?” The Colonel asked.

“A few minutes yet. This cube moves a lot faster than a full cube, and the fighters are having trouble staying close enough to lace it.”

“Colonel!” the call came from the front of the bridge.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“Two more scout cubes have emerged from the nebula. They are heading straight for us,” the Lieutenant reported.

“Well? Shoot them!”

“We can’t hit them! They are too fast for our targeting system.”

“What about Alpha Mother? Have her fighters attack the cubes.”

“Alpha is too far away, Colonel. Those cubes are much faster than our fighters, anyway. I am not certain they’d get here in time.”

“How long would it take us to deploy?”

“Too long Colonel. We have already begun the process, but the cubes will be upon us before we get enough fighters out to make a difference.”

“Helm, back off!” the Colonel ordered, rushing to her command station. “Keep trying to hit them!”

“Colonel,” the Lieutenant argued, “If we move, our fighters can’t deploy!”

“Don’t you think I know that!” the Colonel shot back. “Move!”

The younger officer complied, and entered the heading into the computer. The ship shuddered under the impact of several rapid Borg shots. The viewscreen was struggling to keep up with the Scout cubes, which were blazing around the Command ship at an incredible rate.

“Move us towards Alpha Mother. Hopefully their fighters will reach us before we are destroyed.”

“Aye Colonel,” the Lieutenant replied.

“Colonel, the Borg cube has been destroyed. Beta Blue and Gamma Red is on their way to aid us,” the other Lieutenant reported.

“The Scouts are coming around for another pass, Colonel,” the Lieutenant reported.

“Brace for impact!”

“Colonel, it’s Voyager! They’ve destroyed one of the cubes!”

The ship shuddered again, and several terminals erupted in an explosion of sparks. The viewscreen swung around to the lone cube, swooping down in front of the Command Mothership. Voyager’s torpedoes entered the picture from above, and collided with the smaller ships. As Voyager entered the picture, the cube was destroyed by a series of phaser shots from the Federation ship. The Colonel lowered her wings in a sigh.

“Signal Voyager our thanks,” the Colonel began. “Make a note: All fighters to be deployed upon detection of a Borg vessel. I don’t want this to happen again.” She turned to her Lieutenant. “Status?”

“We have sustained heavy damage. It will take some time to repair. It will be at least twelve hours before we can go into Warp.”

“What about the battle? How are our fighters doing?” the Colonel asked.

“One scout left, sir. One of the two that have been destroyed already were not laced at all. The bolt-guns were enough.”

“That is good news,” the Colonel replied. “As soon as that cube is down, recall all fighters to their Mothers. Set up fighter patrols after they have returned. We are going to be here for a while.”

—

“It seems I owe you an apology,” Ira began. “Planet-bound sensors picked up the cube almost a cycle ago. Perhaps I was foolish to have questioned you, Mr. Tuvok.”

“An apology is not necessary,” Tuvok replied. “You assistance is, however. In order to insure that the warheads are not disabled by the Borg, someone must go onboard the cube to guard them.”

“But when the bombs go off,”

“The ones who go onboard with them will be killed by the blast,” Tuvok finished.

“There is no way to get them off? I mean, you can’t teleport them off? There has to be something.”

“The Borg could disable the warheads in seconds. The transporters on our shuttle do no have the capability to transport more than two people and one piece of equipment at a time. It would require several minutes to transport the fourteen people required to make certain that the warheads are detonated.”

“So I need to ask fourteen people to go to their deaths.”

“Usum, thousands of people died during the first Borg assault. Many more will die when they attack again. It is highly probable that your world will not survive another Borg attack. The sacrifice of fourteen people would be the logical course of action, if it would prevent the deaths of so many others.”

“Logical, yes, but not easier,” Ira replied. “When the Borg invaded, each person on the planet had a chance at living. If they fought hard enough, they would survive. But finding people who are willing to sacrifice themselves. That is a difficult decision for anyone to make.”

“Death in order to save an entire civilization should not be a difficult decision. If one death will prevent millions, that one must be sacrificed,” Tuvok replied.

“It is hard to find any that are so noble, even among a people who are all good at heart,” explained Ira.

“It does not require nobility, do to what it logical,” Tuvok countered.

“My dear Tuvok,” began Yavitz, who was quietly listening to the discourse between her other and the Vulcan, “sometimes it is indeed difficult to do something logical without some noble spirit. We Bint’Ari are not blesses with the freedom from our burdensome emotions, as you are. And our emotions, strongly influenced by our instincts, influence us to chose the path that will lead to our own survival. Asking someone to defy those emotions would be like asking you to deny your logic. They are too much a part of us.”

“Sir, I wish to be one of those who accompany the warheads onto the vessel.” Unexpectedly, Yipu stepped forward.

“Yipu! I can’t allow it,” said Ira. “You are needed here! Especially when this is over. Order must be maintained when the chaos of the war has subsided, and this is not an ideal time to lose the head of the Guard! There will be other people to volunteer.”

“Usum, I have nothing here. I have no family, for my parents died many years ago and I was an only child. I will never be bound myself. I live for my job, and my job is to defend my people from any danger that might present itself. To die in saving my kind- that would give my life the meaning I have always been looking for. Mr. Tuvok, I will go aboard the Borg ship. And I will find thirteen others who will accompany me. There are many in the Guard who feel as I do, who would gladly die to defend Bint’Ari.”

“That is a noble sentiment, Yipu,” praised Yavitz. “I can see why my other values your advice so dearly.”

“How long until the Borg cube arrives?” Ira asked.

“The Borg have not changed course or speed since we downloaded the information from the Borg transceiver,” B’Elanna replied. “They will arrive in orbit in four of your cycles. We managed to find seven warheads that were close enough to working condition to be of some use. We will have two people watch over each of the bombs until they detonate.”

“That is not a lot of time,” Yipu said. “By your leave, Usumi, I must go and find others who will die with me.”

Ira took a deep breath. “Very well, Yipu. I thank you for your sacrifice.”

With a slight nod, Yipu turned and hurried out of the room.

—

Janeway went to sickbay as soon as she came off duty. After the Borg ships disabled the Khamish Mothership, Voyager and the rest of the fleet had to remain behind until it could be repaired. Janeway ordered that a team of engineers be beamed over to the Command Mother to help in the repairs. After a couple of hours of dispute over having men work on their precious ship, the Khamish relented and the engineering team beamed aboard.

Since there was little for her to do until the fleet was up and running again, Janeway had decided to pay a visit to the mysterious Xytin’Ito. It seemed clear now that she and her crewmates had fled their world when it came under attack by the Borg. Analysis of the damaged part of her ship also showed that it was a Borg scout cube that had collided with the sleeper ship, destroying all but her hibernation pod. Ensign Nikolayevich suggested that the Borg did not destroy the ship because they simply could not see it in the nebula. A Borg scout would have no where near the established sensor capabilities of a Borg cube.

The fact that the Borg seemed to have a strong presence in this area of the cluster worried Janeway. Ensign Kim had already determined that Tuvok and Torres had indeed been to the other two nebulas on their flight plan, and had gathered the required amount of diallosilicate from each of them. But this nebula did not show signs that the shuttle gathered any diallosilicate at all. That left the possibility that the Borg found the shuttle as it arrived, and either destroyed the vessel, or assimilated it along with her officers. That was something she did not want to think about.

So Xytin’Ito became a valuable source of information. Perhaps she knew about the shuttle, or could give them some idea about the Borg presence in this area. There were so many questions Janeway had, and she was not certain how to begin asking them to the young woman who had, in all likelihood, lost her world.

Each of the Doctors were performing various tests on the unconscious woman. The Doctor, as usual, would not interrupt his work until the Captain demanded his attention. The same held true for each of the duplicates, none even acknowledged the presence of Janeway.

“Doctor, have you found anything?” Janeway finally asked. At once, all of the Doctors looked up and began to answer at once. Annoyed, each of the Doctors looked down and returned to their work. The Doctor wearing the holo-projector seemed to be the one they appointed spokesman, and he stepped forward.

“Her brain is beginning to return to a normal synaptic pattern, as best as I can tell. I believe that her irregular brain activity could be attributed to a telepathic link she might possess with another of her kind,” the Doctor replied.

“How could that have caused such a reaction? Was the link forced upon her?”

“There is no way for us to tell that,” he replied. “But the brainwave activity she has been experiencing could best be described as a telepathic overload. When she was put into hibernation, there was a sort of block in the link. When she was awakened, the block was removed.”

“And a flood of telepathic energy overwhelmed her,” Janeway concluded.

“Precisely. I was also able to develop a sedative that would not inhibit that process, and she is recovering faster now that the rest of her mind is not getting in the way.”

“Good work, Doctor. How long until we can talk to her?” Janeway asked.

“I could revive her now,” The Doctor replied “though I would recommend against it. She could use the rest. But I suppose you will require me to revive her now anyway, so if you will wait a moment,” The Doctor picked up a hypo and pressed it to the woman’s neck with a hiss. A moment later, Xytin fluttered her eyes open, and looked around.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You are onboard the starship Voyager,” replied Janeway. “You are safe.”

“A ship?” Xytin asked. “This room is huge. There is no way we are on a ship.”

“Voyager is significantly larger than the ship you were on,” Janeway replied.

“Larger,” Xytin replied. Janeway could see that she was trying to figure out her surroundings. “You aren’t Bint’Ari. Wait!” Xytin spun off of her bed and backed against a wall. “Your from the cube, you must be. You are the ones who attacked us!” Her eyes filled with panic.

“No, no, we are not the Borg,” Janeway comforted. “We are here to help you, not to attack you. We are not from the cube.”

“You don’t look like the Borg,” Xytin replied, as she eased her stance. “My beloved Ito has shown me so.”

“Who has shown you?” Janeway asked.

“Ito, he is my other,” Xytin replied.

“And you share a sort of link with this Ito?”

“Yes, our minds have been bound. You do not bind your minds with those of your mate?” Xytin looked confused.

“Humans do not have any appreciable telepathic abilities,” explained The Doctor, gesturing towards the captain.

“How terrible for you,” Xytin commented. “What about you? Aren’t you human?”

“I may look human, but I am, in fact, a hologram. I have no means of exhibiting any telepathic abilities,” The Doctor replied.

“A hologram? Fascinating!” Xytin said, completely awestruck.

“I have always thought so,” The Doctor replied.

“So you are in some kind of telepathic contact with this Ito?” Janeway asked, trying to get the conversation back on track.

“Oh yes, constant. It is taking some time to “catch up” on things – a lot has happened since I went into hibernation, and we honestly never expected to sense one another again. With the Borg, and all.”

“Well, Xytin, could you tell me, where was your ship going?” Janeway asked.

“We were fleeing the Borg. We had hoped to find another world that we could settle on, in order to preserve our society. We only had two ships equipped with the hibernation system though. The other ship was destroyed before we ever went into the nebula. We were our planet’s last hope, until Ti’Hat and the Vulcan came and lead our people to victory over the Borg.”

“The Vulcan? Are you saying that this Ti’Hat and the Vulcan came to your world, and helped you defeat the Borg?”

“My bond-mate is a communications executive. He monitored all the broadcasts that he could during the invasion. He heard so many tales about Ti’Hat and the Vulcan, about how they lead our people to victory after victory. Just prior to the re-taking of Topachan, our capitol, Ito suffered the same telepathic overload that I did, and that is the last he had heard of them until now. Apparently, their raid on the capitol was a success, and every Borg on the planet disintegrated. Now, according to Yavitz, Ti’Hat and the Vulcan are going to help our people destroy the cube that is approaching Bint’Ari as we speak.”

“Another cube? Are you certain?” Janeway asked.

“Well, Ito is certain. It is hard to explain how he knows, but he is absolutely insisting upon it.”

“Janeway to bridge. Is there a Borg cube on long-range sensors?”

“Negative Captain,” Kim replied. “Though the nebula is blocking a large area of space. There very well could be a cube behind it.”

“Move Voyager in a position to scan past the nebula, and hail the Khamish Command Mother and tell them why you are moving. We may have company very soon. Janeway out.”

“Are Ti’Hat and the Vulcan their names?” The Doctor asked, while Janeway was giving the order to Kim.

“I don’t believe so, but that is how my people have come to know them,” Xytin replied.

“Do either you or your mate know what their names are?”

“Ito believes that they are called B’Elanna and Tuvok,” Xytin replied.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.

The fleet was rapidly approaching the final nebula on the Sappho’s flight plan, and Janeway was trying to come to grips with the possibility that the shuttle would not be found.

“Captain, one of the Khamish ships is detecting a vessel, heavily damaged, at oh-two-six mark seven-three-five.”

“I’ll take it that it’s not the shuttle, Mr. Kim?”

“No, Captain. But it isn’t a Borg ship either.”

“Life signs?” she asked.

“Inconclusive,” replied Kim.

Another diversion. “Signal the fleet to stop here, and have them search as much of the area as possible, to keep them busy. Let’s get that ship in the shuttlebay.” Janeway rose to her feet, and tapped her comm-badge.

“Janeway to sickbay. Doctor, could you meet me in the shuttlebay? There may be a couple of people who need your attention.”

“I’ll be right there, Captain,” replied the Doctor.

“Mr. Kim, you have the bridge,” Janeway said as the turbolift doors closed in front of her.

—

The entire world celebrated the victory over the Borg. It had come so much sooner than Bint’Ari expected it, that most thought of it as a miracle. It took a while before word spread about why every Borg on the planet fell once, and to Tuvok’s displeasure, so to speak, that further added to their heroic status.

Tuvok, of course, did not participate in the celebration. He spent his time at the shuttle’s computer console, attempting to sort through some of the information he had downloaded from the Borg relay device.

“Don’t you ever relax?” Oro commented, as he made his way into the shuttle. “We’ve been up since before dawn, and won a great battle. Now you, well after dark, are in here working. Still! Tuvok, I don’t know what to make of you.”

“I am analyzing the data I downloaded from the Borg computer. I need to determine if there are any other Borg ships in orbit, so that Lieutenant Torres and I can be on our way. This information will also be of use to you. The Borg will, in all likelihood, return and attempt to take your planet again. Your people will have to prepare themselves.”

“I think you worry too much, Tuvok,” replied Oro. “I don’t think the Borg will be back for a long time. And we will be ready for them by the time they get here!”

“I would not be so certain,” replied Tuvok. “According to the data fragments I have managed to decode, the Borg have already dispatched a second cube to complete the assimilation of this planet. It is due to arrive in fifteen hours, and the Borg tend to be quite punctual.”

“What?”

“What’s going on?” Torres asked, as she stumbled into the shuttle. The worried look on Oro’s face suggested something was amiss.

“According to your friend here, another Borg cube will be here in less than a day,” Oro said.

“Fifteen hours, twenty three minutes, at their last known heading,” corrected Tuvok. “My decryption may be inaccurate; I will need Seven of Nine’s help to decode the information more precisely.”

“That’s not very good,” slurred Torres, who was more than a little drunk. “What are we going to do?”

“I am attempting to formulate a course of action,” Tuvok replied.

“If we could somehow stop the cube itself,” Torres sighed. “We would not have to deal with anymore drones on the surface.”

“Could we launch missiles at them?” Oro asked. “I mean, we know that they are coming. We should still have some nuclear weapons around from before Unification. But they are buried. It shouldn’t be too hard to dig them up.”

“The Borg vessel would have adequate shielding to withstand a nuclear attack,” Tuvok replied. “In addition, and such projectiles would be destroyed by Borg disrupter before it ever reached the cube.”

“That’s not possible,” Oro murmured.

Torres scratched her head. “Could we beam a couple of the warheads onboard? I mean, if we set off a nuclear reaction inside of the cube, their shielding should be worthless.”

“That would require beaming the warheads from within the shuttle. The transporter system took heavy damage, and would not be able to perform a site to site transport at this range,” replied Tuvok. “It would be a slow process, and the Borg would have landed some soldiers by the time the bombs could be detonated.”

“What are you talking about?” Oro asked. “There’s no way we could get on that ship. You think that they will just let us on if we ask nicely? Excuse me, Mr. Borg, can me and my nuclear warhead come aboard please?”

“I’ll explain later,” replied Torres, who was not feeling up to explaining how they were going to get the bombs aboard the cube. “Can you get the warheads?”

“I can’t. I don’t even know where they are.”

“Who does?” Torres asked.

“The First Citizens know, and certainly the Council would know.”

“Well? Where do we find these people?” Torres asked impatiently.

“Let me think. They normally would be in the city, but they go into hiding when there is an emergency, like a war. A Borg invasion certainly qualifies,” Oro explained. “Yipu would know, He’s the minister of the Guard. He is camped not too far from here.”

“Go get him! We don’t have much time!”

Oro ran out the shuttle, and turned down the street. Tuvok returned, undisturbed, to his decoding of the Borg data. B’Elanna began to long even more for the safety of Voyager.

—

Janeway arrived in the shuttlebay to find The Doctor waiting there for her. The small ship was already docked. Janeway glanced over the hull of the ship, noting the heavy collision damage aft. The damage reports she read on her way down said that the ship was not attacked, it was just unlucky. It was probably hit by a stray asteroid, presumably while going through a nearby star system.

“Doctor,” Janeway greeted with a nod. “Are you detecting any life signs aboard the ship?”

“I believe so,” replied the Doctor. “It seems that there is some sort of hibernation unit on board, and the crew-members were all in a state of suspended animation. I do not know if the crew survived the impact. I will have to inspect the passengers to be certain.”

“Lead on, Doctor,” said Janeway, gesturing towards the ship.

The two climbed up the ladder on the side of the ship, and climbed inside the open hatch on the top of it. The ship was quite cramped, Each of the ships internal systems very much larger than their counterparts on Voyager. The air was stale, and Janeway thought that the climate control on the ship was probably damaged as well.

The Doctor lead her to the back of the ship. Janeway was greeted at once by the awful stench of rotting flesh. She steeled herself to cope with the smell and moved forward. The room itself was caved in at the side, due to damage from the collision. Several of the chambers were destroyed entirely, others were cracked open, and their occupants dead because the seal to their pod was broken before they could be revived.

Only one of the chambers was still functioning, and The Doctor’s tricorder suggested that the occupant, a fairly short woman, was still alive. The Doctor adjusted the controls of the pod, and the two waited to see if the woman could be revived. The process was slow, but finally the lid of the pod opened up, and the woman slowly opened her eyes. The Doctor scanned her vital signs, and Janeway moved to accommodate The Doctor.

“I can’t see,” the woman whispered.

“Your sight will return momentarily,” The Doctor explained. “Loss of sight appears to be a minor side-effect of the drug used in the hibernation sequence. It will reverse itself in a couple of minutes.”

“What is your name?” Janeway asked.

“My name? I’m Xytin’Ito,” replied the woman. He face tensed up. “Ito!” she cried, as her whole body began to tremble. The Doctor began frantically scanning her vital signs.

“What is going on?” Janeway asked.

“I don’t really know,” replied The Doctor. “I don’t know very much about her anatomy. Brain-wave activity has heightened dramatically, while other areas seem to be in a state of shock. I can’t explain it.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“Nothing here. I need to get her to sickbay and run some tests. I need to determine a cause before I can even speculate on the treatment,” the Doctor replied hastily. Almost immediately, his hand was raised to his comm-badge. “Doctor to transporter room, two to beam directly to sickbay.”

“Aye, Doctor,” the chief on duty replied. Barely a second later, the Doctor and Xytin’Ito disappeared in a blue shimmer. Janeway hurried out of the ship, and made her way back to the bridge.

—

Yipu stepped into the shuttle, with a look of disbelief on his face.

“It’s true!” he exclaimed. “I can’t believe it, the stories are true!” He moved forward, and looked up at Torres. “Are you really Ti’Hat?”

Torres rolled her eyes. “Call me B’Elanna.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Yipu replied. “I wouldn’t want to be named after that filthy animal, myself. Is it true that there is another cube on its way?”

“It is,” Tuvok replied. “We require several nuclear warheads. An effective countermeasure must be ready for use before the cube arrives.”

Yipu laughed. “Your crazy! Do you know what it is going to take to get any of them dug up? I don’t have the authority to order their excavation. Even if I did, it would take weeks to dig up them all.”

“Who has the authority?” Tuvok asked.

“Only the First Citizens do,” Yipu replied.

“Where can we find the First Citizens?” Tuvok asked, patiently.

“I can’t tell you that. They are in a secure area, and the location is classified.”

Torres grabbed Yipu by the collar, and lifted him to her height. “Look you little weasel. If you don’t tell us, you aren’t going to have a world left to defend!”

Yipu, to his credit, remained stoic. “Put me down, If you please. Fighting with me is not going to solve our problem.”

Torres grunted, then dropped the Bint’Ari.

“I don’t know where Yavitz is. I don’t handle her evacuation arrangements,” Yipu began. “But Ira, his sanctuary is just outside of Xenin.”

The shuttle silently lifted off of the ground.

“We will be outside of Xenin momentarily,” Tuvok reported. “Could you please indicate a more specific location?”

“What do you mean we will be there momentarily? We’re not going now?” Yipu was visible flustered.

“The Borg vessel will arrive in less than fifteen hours. We do not have the luxury of waiting until morning,” replied Tuvok.

“As a boy, it was always my dream to meet the legends of old,” Yipu muttered. “I wonder if they, too are as frustrating as you are turning out to be.” Oro chuckled behind him.

“Trust them Yipu, they know what they are doing,” he reassured.

“Easy for you to say,” replied Yipu. “I can only imagine what Ira is going to say. And when you ask him to dig up the warheads? I really like my job, you know? I don’t want to lose it.”

—

“Report,” Janeway requested, as she returned to the bridge. She noticed the wear on Chakotay’s face as he rose, and realized how long it had been since she herself had gotten some rest.

“The Fleet is still in their search pattern,” reported Chakotay. “Still nothing, though.”

“What about that ship, do we have any idea where it came from?” she asked.

“According to their last known heading, it seems to have come right out of the last nebula that Tuvok and B’Elanna were scheduled to harvest,” Kim reported. “Sensors can’t penetrate the nebula, so I haven’t been able to determine a starting point for the ship.”

“How long ago did they pass through that nebula?” Chakotay asked.

“It’s been over a week,” Kim replied. “It is hard to give an exact time.”

“Could the shuttle have been damaged the same way?” Janeway asked.

“Maybe there is some kind of solid bodies inside the nebula, like an asteroid field,” Chakotay suggested. “Sensors would have a hard time picking up an asteroid on a collision course until it was too late to move.”

“Is there anyway we can go inside and check?” Janeway asked.

“I suppose I could boost the navigational deflectors, to protect Voyager, but I’m not certain I could boost the sensors enough to detect the shuttle,” Kim reported.

“Captain, there’s a problem,” Paris interrupted. “I’m detecting a Borg Scout ship, just exiting the nebula.”

Janeway walked up behind Paris, and leaned over the console. “Have the Khamish seen it yet?”

“No, it is holding position outside of the nebula, and is out of range of each of the Khamish motherships. One is heading towards the cube now, and should pick it up momentarily,” Paris replied.

“Looks like they’ve got it now,” Kim reported from his console. “We are being hailed by the Khamish Commander. They are requesting permission to, well, ‘rid the self-righteous Borg bastards of their worthless existence,’ I believe the translation went.”

“What is the Borg ship doing?” Chakotay asked. “It can’t possibly believe that it can take on Voyager, let alone the five Khamish ships.”

“It is holding position,” Kim replied. “Wait, Three more ships are coming out of the nebula. Two scouts and a larger ship.”

“A cube?” Janeway asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t seen a cube of that dimension. It is a lot smaller than a normal cube,” Kim replied.

“Signal the Khamish commander. Give them the OK to attack,” Janeway ordered. “And get Seven of Nine up here. I want intel on those ship designs.”

—

“You want what?” cried Ira. “You want me to give you our nuclear warheads? Why should I trust you?”

“Usum, there is a Borg cube approaching as we speak. We need those warheads to attack the cube itself,” Yipu pleaded. “We may have beaten the Borg this time, but we are in no shape to ward off another invasion!”

“How do you know they are coming again?” Ira shot back. “Our planetary scanners show nothing. How can you trust two aliens! How do you know that they do not want to use the warheads on us?”

“How can you say that?” Oro asked, angrily. “I have known these two since they arrived, and they have done nothing except support us against the Borg. Why would they, so suddenly, decide that they are our enemies?”

“Even if I tell you the location, it will take a too long to dig them up. There is no way we could have them ready by the time the Borg got here! These aliens must know this!”

“Sir, I know it seems a little hard to believe, but they say that they just need to know the location, and that they can retrieve the warheads without digging,” Yipu explained.

“This is just too much!” Ira almost burst into laughter. “Very well, bring them in. I should like to meet the fools that would be our saviors.”

Yipu rushed from the room, and Oro stood back, worried. He thought that this, his first meeting with the First Citizen, could not possibly go worse. It was one thing that the leader of your world knew your name, it was quite another that he thought of you as an imbecile.

Shortly, Yipu returned with Tuvok, and Torres, and Oro could not help but smile. B’Elanna stomped in, very much annoyed at being kept waiting. She looked as she often did, about ready to explode into a fit of rage. Tuvok, on the other hand, looked as if he could spend another year or so waiting for Ira to make up his mind. Total calm.

Ira, on the other hand, was not prepared for the imposing aliens. Ira awed at the height of Tuvok and B’Elanna, and it took a moment for him to gather his wits enough to open his mouth.

“Well,” Ira began nervously. He could not take his eyes off of B’Elanna’s angry face. “How, may I ask, do you expect to dig up any warheads before that cube you are babbling about arrives?”

Torres scowled, and Ira moved his seat back, unconsciously.

“We have the technology to transport the warheads directly to the surface, without having to unearth them,” Tuvok replied.

“How long will it be, before that cube you are talking about arrives?”

“It will be here in approximately thirteen hours,” Tuvok replied.

“That’s about fifteen cycles, Usum,” Yipu added.

“Yes, then, fifteen cycles. I will tell you the locations of the warheads. If what you say is true, we should detect the cube in about ten cycles. If we have not detected it in twelve, each of you will be arrested and executed for treason.” Yipu stepped foreword, in protest. Ira held up his hand, stopping Yipu in his tracks.

“If the location of those warheads became public knowledge, it would be a disaster for this world. Already there are those who believe if they were running things, we would have been much better prepared to fight the Borg. With so much of our military in shambles, civil war for control of this world is a very real possibility. If any of those opposition groups got hold of a warhead, it would destroy any hope of stability that Bint’Ari has. Laws have to be enforced, now more than ever, if we have any hope of keeping this world together. Yipu, it troubles me to do this to you, but you are a part of this. I hope for your sake that there is a cube coming.” Ira pulled a data chip from the computer on his desk. “Here are the locations of twenty of the warheads that we buried. Please do not be too troublesome about your apprehension should the cube not arrive as you claim it will.”

“Thank you, Usum,” Yipu replied, before he followed Oro, Tuvok, and B’Elanna out the door.

“I can’t believe I’m hoping for another invasion,” Yipu muttered. Oro chuckled, lightly, in agreement.

Star Trek, Voyager, and related properties are © Paramount Studio, and the author makes no claim towards them.