Star Trek the Virtual Series: Episode Three The Battle of Wolf 359 Part I                               Story & Illustrations by Justin Lindsey Allman     The wind was screaming defiantly across the frozen tundra; an alien sky hidden by the blinding white storm.  Horrific currents of air carried scatter shot ice and snow that battered against the blue female figure that walked in the blizzard.  Tufts of stinging ice collected on her cobalt blue skin and her white braided hair whipped around like dying serpents.     Her eyes were deep emerald with flecks of gold spattered in a halo of spectral fire, circling a hollow blackness. Her magic eyes darted back and forth in the blinding curtain of rage.  She swept the icy planes hunting for something in the heavily packed ice.     She breathed in deep to try and catch the scent of the prey, but the wind was wrong. As she inhaled the cold air drank down her throat like ice water. She savored it, longed for it.  Here she was once again in her element; the ice and snow bringing her heat dulled senses back from their slumber.  This place was life, this moment, this action.  She was the hunter here, and she was alive.  The other place was hot and filled with confusion.  It was not pure.     She flickered in the violent raging ocean of static, a readied blue bolt, edging to strike.  Her muscles flexed and she stood on the balls of her bare feet.  Her fingers were like claws and her body was hunched in a feral stature.  She was the predator hunting in the storm, and the thoughts of the warm place faded.      Her five senses were blinded by the blizzard, but she knew her prey was there.  Again she swept the icy fields looking for it.      Then she sensed the quarry and tensed.  Somewhere inside, an acid fire spread from her gut and filled her blood and limbs.  It ate away at what little sentience she had, and she became one with her instincts, consumed only by the lust for her pray.     Her knobbed antennae that sat high on her head, focused onto a spot deep in the ice.  Then with a lightning snap she launched.  The blue girl slashed into the icepack like a hungry tiger.  She tore into the icy body and ripped from it the burning little life form that she had been seeking.  A small mammal screamed and shrieked in her hands, struggling in her iron grip. As quickly as she had pulled it out she bit down onto its body and a burst of blue blood shot out, warm and steaming in the cold summer storm.     Eviscerated tendrils hung from the young girls' lips as she screamed out in a primal euphoric song to the gods, the storm and the joy of the hunt. Part One SD 43989.25 Utopia Planetia Shipyards, Mars Orbit.           "You're crazy," Chartreuse Ivey said as she walked quickly into a turbo lift.  Her slicked back, dark blue hair, and genetically matched eyes were glistening in the artificial light.           "There is nothing crazy about wanting to be a test pilot.  Besides, testing a starship isn't like testing a shuttle." Adam Faulkner smiled casually as if nothing in the universe mattered to him, "You can't get to other galaxies in a shuttle."           "Ensign Faulkner, the galaxy would be a much nicer place without you," she said with sarcasm, "Deck one fifty-one."     The lift was designed to carry far more than the two that it held. They were tiny figures traveling down a great and vast corridor.           The doors hissed shut and he turned to her, "That hurt." His blue-eyed good looks dashing her with all their might.           "Well you're the one hopping galaxies." She turned away mocking emotional hurt. She was slight in comparison to him her eyes only level to his strong jaw.           "I didn't think you cared," his tone was nonchalant.           "I don't." She turned back to him, this time she was much closer.           "If you don't care," he moved closer to her blue genetically colored lips feeling her breath on his face.           "Why would I?" She closed her eyes and the vast world that they were in became much smaller.  The entire universe compressed into the space around them.           "I can think of a reason or two."  He kissed her with all the love that a moment could hold.           The doors to deck one fifty-one opened up a moment later and the two lovers resumed their professional stances.  It wasn't that they were ashamed, just that they had not decided to announce to the world that they were in love.  Each had their reasons.  For Adam it was a drastic change of persona, far from his womanizing reputation.  For her it was a great and important fact that such things were kept from the family.           "I talked to Kirk last night.  She says that the last of the Einstein's weapons systems have been scuttled and they are going to permanently reassign us to Utopia Planetia. I'm not too excited about that." Chartreuse said as she stepped out of the shaft and into a main corridor.            "I was surprised that Kirk didn't get reassigned to a ship."           "Well, with the fleet as it is, there isn't much openings for command. There are more captains than ships right now and that means less positions to fill," she said as she looked out one of the portals and into the massive shipyards.            The two had come to an observation point with seven giant windows that looked out onto the expansive facility.  Utopia Planetia was the third largest shipyard in the Federation and the current home to seventy-five percent of developmental and upgrade projects for Starfleet. From where the two stood at least thirty ships could be seen in kennel-like cages far above the pale red Martian surface.  The facility was spread high in the orbital sky above the frozen Martian sands.      A great series of starbases and docking structures hung about; each placed with precision and care.  Very few orbital bases could match the size of the shipyard, and it sat as a gem in the crown of the United Federation of Planets.           Faulkner stood in awe of this magical place. For him it was a celestial nursery- a place where the finest form of technology and style could be meshed together into the mighty starships of his dreams. It was as if he were a child surrounded by pure unfettered love.  But there was one ship that stood out above all the others, "You see that one there?"           "The Menagaha?" Chartreuse spied over his shoulder, the two stopped, taken in by the grand panorama.           "No, next to it.  I want her." He spoke as if Chartreuse were only a witness who was there when he made the claim on his future. The vastness returned as she was forced from that small reality that the two had held.           "The Intrepid class isn't even space worthy yet. They've only just finished installing the deck plates," she said in a defensive tone.     Chartreuse felt a tinge inside herself.  No matter how strong her bond felt with Adam, she knew there could be no permanence.     Genetics.  At one time genetic purity ruled her people by deciding who would live and who would never even be born. The Coridan people no longer held prejudice against 'unpure' genetic lines, but there were still echoes of that past running through their modern customs. They believed that a being wasn't defined by its mind, but rather its mind was defined by its physical and genetic make-up.  No man could be more than the sum of his parts. It was a fierce part of her culture, and strong fact of her family traditions.     As Adam eyed the grand ship, she knew what her parents would see in him.  His far off focus would be identified as a genetic flaw.  They would call him a reckless dreamer who strove towards things that could never be.  A behavior sponsored by irremovable genes, a permanent wall that would keep them from ever being more than close friends.           "Twenty-three seventy." He whispered the holy date.      "That's nearly two years away."           "She is supposed to be one of the most maneuverable ships ever built." He turned from the windows and the two resumed walking the corridor, but she was no longer in his eyes.  Adam saw only the new steel and the dream of speed.            Faulkner continued on about the Intrepid's statistics.  And though Chartreuse understood the information, probably better than he did, she was not paying attention at all. Her thoughts were focused on the genetic scan that she had sent back to Coridan.  She was in love with Adam Faulkner and after nearly six months together she had finally decided to run compatibility tests.     'Type A humanoid behavioral patterns; consisting of extreme competitiveness, ambition, impatience, hostility, angry outbursts, and a sense of time pressure.'           The two walked to an extended gangway plank that led from the station and out to the USS Agincourt, it was a decommissioned Excelsior class starship.  She was being brought back from the mothballs by order of Starfleet command.  She and seventy-three other ships from the pastures had been brought out and were being put back onto the line.  No one really understood why, but there was speculation that recent overtures from the Romulan Government had put the powers that be on alert.           They walked across into the great ship that sat inside one of the massive docking bays, one of the many wombs of Utopia Planetia. There were five major docks, and each could hold several starships.  The vastness of the Utopia facility was boggling, but often forgotten by the beings that scuttled about the great, living body.            The Agincourt was nearly seventy-five years old and had seen more than her fair share of service.  Originally assigned to exploration, she found most of her service in the Klingon Empire.  During the reconstruction period she ran cargo and medical supplies to boarder worlds.  She never made her mark in history, but she was a loyal ship of the line.           Faulkner and Chartreuse had made the small trek in search of the torpedo room on the Agincourt, where a diligent young officer was hard at work.           The torpedo room of the ship was set on deck ten, and was built with plenty of room to walk about.  But, the Agincourt had a very special series of modifications that now made the room confined and difficult to maneuver.  The new structures contrasted with the old styling and created an eclectic mesh.  It was an odd thing to look at, as this ship was built in another time and had long ago been retired.      The mothball fleet had been set aside for a reason; the ships were too old to maintain the rigors of regular space travel.  But with some minor upgrades these tired old mares could be made into special duty vessels that weren't required to suffer the same hardships as they had in their younger day.      The Agincourt had been refitted to house the most powerful weapons in the Starfleet inventory, the Mark 22 Zeus Torpedo.  Designed to be used with a planetary or base mounted launcher it was the highest yield torpedo ever produced.   Having been fully tested and installed the only thing keeping the great dame from being re-commissioned was a software glitch in the anti-matter transfer conduits.  A small task left for a young ensign named Daniel Tien.           Tien had been so focused on the task at hand that he had failed to see Faulkner and Chartreuse approach. He was interwoven in to the superstructure attempting to reprogram the very last portion of the computer interface that would allow the firing computer to talk to the transfer conduits. He was about two meters off the ground and lodged into a small niche muttering to his tricorder.           "Happy Christmas Mr. Tien." Chartreuse said with a broad smile and an extended hand. A bright green and gold package was held within her slight fingers.           Daniel jumped, and turned to see his guests below him. He smiled, then slowly lowered and set himself down on to the floor and said, "Merry Christmas.  Its Merry, not happy."           "Is there a difference?" Chartreuse asked in a worried tone. She was not from Earth and knew only what Adam had told her about the event.           "I know it's a few days late." Adam held out a small package to Tien.           "I didn't know that we were going to exchange gifts." He took the two small packages," I didn't even know you guys celebrated Christmas."           "Well, I don't really, but I knew you did," Adam smiled.           "Oh," Tien said flatly.      "You do celebrate Christmas don't you?" Chartreuse's worries hadn't lessened.           "Sure." Dan lied, " It was very popular when I was a kid. We had a tree and a candelabra thing."           "The Menorah?"           "It's called a dradle-I think," he stumbled as he took the packages.  He opened Charturce's first, peeling away the tree green paper and the thin gold wrap. The package was very small and when opened it revealed a series of isolinear chips.  He looked up, confused at the gift.      "They are a holo-programs. The first one is the Iconian site and Jaresh four.  It was designed by Arlene Rodgers." She smiled proud of her find.            "My mother." Dan said as straight-faced as he could.           The two looked at each other and then to Tien.           "My mother remarried when I was eleven, to Alan Rodgers, the explorer."           "Then you don't need to open mine," Adam said frankly.           Tien looked at the red little package, obviously isolinear chips.           "It's the complete works of Alan Rodgers," Faulkner sighed.           There was an awkward pause and then Tien broke the moment, "Thank you.  It really is the thought that counts."           "You don't really celebrate Christmas do you?" Faulkner asked.           Tien gave him a shallow wag of his head.           "The books bio says that Rodgers was born on New Beijing, and is fourth generation Buddhist."           "Well, that's true, but I am not a Buddhist.  And don't believe book jackets, they only include superficial details."  He turned away from the two and looked up to where he had been wedged. "It's done.  I was just about to call Captain Hansen and let him know."  Tien turned back over his shoulder, "You ready to fly this crate?"           "You mean is she ready for me?"           "There's not another ensign in Starfleet that could have done what I did.  Of course she's ready." Two Into the Looking Glass           The heat rose off the cracked desert floor in blistering waves.  In the distance the illusion of water tempted any life that could see it.  The sun hung high in the sky and only the most virulent of life dared it. Today was a good day to die.           The fiery plane was filled with warriors, hundreds of men and women engaged in a mass confrontation the likes of which would frighten any civilized being. Each combatant was rage personified: born to be here, born to die in battle. Trained from birth with nearly ten thousand years of collective experience.   Each of these killing machines was the finest culmination of effort, experience and form.  Each blade that was swung was a lifetime of skill, each parry a leap faith of one or a thousand gods. Only the strong would survive this conflict, but none here were weak.           Amanda T. Kirk lifted up the Lurpa of her adopted family and brought it down and through a Vulcan knights' sword and armor. She pulled back as green blood splattered across her face, the dying warrior still lashing out.  Another quick movement, a thrust forward with the angry weapon and the knight fell.  There was no time to gloat over her enemy, but her body was near its physical limits.  She paused over the dead Vulcan mentally steeling herself for the next fight.       A mounted warrior plowed through the sea of Vulcan's and spied the lone human fighter.  She turned away-by luck-just as his lance tore into her side.           Kirk rolled with the strike as the long spear ripped open her armor. She was saved from being skewered, but not from the inertia of the blow. She was spun onto the ground and lost her weapon.  She reeled in pain, her already fractured rib crying out as she hit the ground.  She had lost some blood and was sure that she had an internal organ giving out, though she didn't know which one.  She thought that maybe it was time to end this, that she had taken it too far, but the lives of her former crew burned into her heart and spurned her onward.           Rising with pure adrenal strength, she moved towards a nearby soldier. It didn't matter which one, any would do now.   All that was important at this point was the fight.      The Vulcan was wearing thin armor and held a horrific black metal mallet. Like her, the man was badly injured: two short arrow shafts protruded from his back.  She rushed forward to strike him, but he was too fast.  Before she could bring up her arms to strike, he back handed her and dropped young Kirk to the green-soaked field.  She was dizzy and confused. She couldn't see her opponent, her eyes were stinging with blood and sweat. She tried to roll away, thinking that anywhere was better than where she was.  A heavy metal blow dug into the ground where she had just lain.       She turned to face the Vulcan warrior and saw the by the ever-burning sun.  The ugly metal mallet eclipsed the light of the burning Vulcan star and rushed towards her head.       The warrior was too fast; her injuries were severe.  Kirk knew it was over, and she knew that she was about to face death once again.  Shouting out now wouldn't help, she would have to take the hit and hope the safety protocols engaged.  But the steel mallet never hit. Having never closed her eyes she watched as the head of the club, a rather ugly spiked ball, floated mid-stride.  Not missing a beat she backed away, shifting amongst the frozen warriors.  Then she understood; somebody had paused the holodeck.  This wasn't a good thing, without a successful knock out the auto programs wouldn't engage.             "Com..."  Kirk bit into her fluttering endurance, she only had to say a single sentence to make it all right, "Computer, run Zimmerman Prototype..."           The Bloody green fields faded and the familiar yellow grid appeared around her. Replacing the murderous Vulcan warrior was a rather plain human in a Starfleet medical uniform.  He was medium height and average appearance.            "Please state the nature of the Medical Emergency."           "Grrall..."Kirk muttered as she fell on her back, the pain and injury finally taking her.           The hologram looked at her curiously and repeated its greeting.           "Run a medical diagnostic" a voice rang out, but it was not Amanda's or the holograms.           The hologram looked at the new presence on the holodeck, and then he looked around somewhat helplessly.           "Computer, replicate an away team medical kit," said the voice.           Amanda strained to look towards the entrance of the holodeck, but she was in too much pain to arch around.  She didn't need to see the face, for she knew who it was.           The holographic doctor grabbed the medical kit as it 'appeared from thin air' on the deck. He pulled the tricorder stowed on the side of the kit and kneeled by the fallen woman, then began to recite his diagnostic aloud.           "Multiple lacerations to the epidermis, six serious contusions.  Cranial trauma and a minor concussion.  Broken fourth rib, internal bleeding...."           "Amanda, you're an idiot."           "Eliza..."           "Save your breath.  Let this, whatever it is, do its job," said the voice with compassion.           The hologram then began to wave several wands over the patient as the stranger kneeled down beside the two. The woman was young, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight.  Strong features, yet with supple curves.   Her hair wasn't quite brown, a bit of red highlighted what would otherwise be a plain boring color, and her face was identical to Amanda T. Kirk's.           Elizabeth Kirk pitied her sister. Amanda had a classic case of survivor guilt. It was forged two years ago in the depths of unexplored space when her ship was captured and half its crew killed.  The only officer to survive was Kirk.  And though she brought home the rest of her crew, she could not shrug the culpability that she felt from death of her Captain and friends. So much had been lost out there in deep space, so much destroyed.      Elizabeth stood tall over her fallen sibling and felt a degree of separation.  This was not the sister that she had grown up with, but a pale replica of that lost girl.  It was fitting: the broken body to lay with the broken soul.           The holographic doctor stood up and stepped away.           Kirk sat up and checked her body.  Her clothing, a traditional Vulcan female warrior armor, was shattered and hung broken from her limbs.  Its brass-like metal appearance betrayed its ceramic nature.  The first synthetic metals came from Vulcan forged not by logical scientists, but by men and women who strove to stay back the weapons of their opponents.       Her ribs were in pain, and her head was still spinning. The medical hologram was made to fix the wounds, but had no concept of pain relievers.           "I could have you removed from duty." Elizabeth said, adding a sting of threat to her words.           Kirk pulled herself up and lumbered to the Lurpa that sat on the ground several meters away.  She picked up the weapon and inspected it with greater care than she had done for herself.  She didn't reply to her sister.   She only looked over her shoulder, listening to see what else her sibling counselor might say.           "What you're doing here isn't healthy, and what is this thing?"  Elizabeth crossed the grid and waived her hand at the hologram.           "Computer deactivate Zimmerman Prototype." was Kirk's only reply.           The doctor faded away.           "Amanda, you're not well. Let me help you." Her tone was true, and she empathized for her sister.           "The Emergency Medical hologram is a proposal for Starfleet.  It's in the initial stages, but promises to be very useful."           Elizabeth stared back at the space where the hologram had stood.           "I didn't deactivate all the safety protocols. If you wouldn't have paused the program I would have been knocked out and the EMH would have revived me."           "Sounds like good solid thinking. I'll recommend you for service... In the Klingon Empire!" Elizabeth reeled herself back in. She regained her composure and smiled at Amanda. It had been too long to start it off like this.  She wanted to heal the wounds not dig in them.           The two women starred at each other for several seconds, then a strange thing happened to Amanda Kirk.  Something that wasn't native to her face began to form.  Her lower lip tightened and a smile edged up as a tear dropped from her cheek.  Elizabeth mirrored the emotions and the two women embraced in the darkened holodeck.           "I missed you so much, Lizzy." Kirk whispered.           "Amanda, I am so sorry."           Kirk held her sister at arms length, to see the sibling that she had grown up with. The two hadn't really spoken in years.  Separated by conflicting duty assignments, but here in the face of her most sacred friend, she could not control the emotions of their sibling bond.  Two years of silence broken three decades of love.           The two Kirk's began to walk out of the holodeck hand in hand.            "Why now?" Kirk said to Elizabeth.           "I have come to ask you to come back to Vulcan." Elizabeth spoke slowly knowing that her intentions might be misinterpreted by her short-fused sister.           "So you have come to take me away again?" Kirk stopped at the entrance to the holodeck.  The peaceful light of the corridors of Utopia Planetia on her right, and the dark cold room on her left.           "I have come to ask you to return home.  Savvik has grown ill.  She may not make it."           Kirk paused.  When she had brought home her crew from deep space she wanted nothing more that to return to duty.  But the counselors had ordered her to take some time off.  It was the last thing that she wanted to do.  It was a betrayal to her crew.  Elizabeth should have understood why Kirk didn't want that sabbatical, but she instead argued in favor of it.  It had been a point of contention between the sisters since.           "Savvik has asked that you be present. She wishes to read  her will aloud."           "I do not need to be present for the law to recognize me," said Kirk with all the coldness of a lonely mountain peak.           "No, but she has requested it."           "I cannot.  I have my duty here."           Elizabeth sighed. She had expected this.  There was nothing more to say...perhaps before that ill-fated mission she would have made a plea on behalf of Kirks' humanity, but now she knew better. There was no arguing with Amanda T. Kirk.  Elizabeth placed her hand on Kirk's shoulder, "I understand." She then smiled and quietly walked away. Kirk stood alone in the portal.  Half her face was bathed in the soft glow of the outside world, the other in the darkened and empty shadow of the holodeck.  She was caught between two worlds and unable to embrace either as her own. Three First day on the Job           The door to Jubaes' quarters hissed open and the young Andorian girl bounced out on one foot, precariously trying to put her boot on while still in motion.  A few more well placed hops and the boot slid into place.  She was then out the door and on her way to a very important meeting.            She ran her fingers through her thick, meticulously braided snow-white hair and wiped a bit of lint from one of her antennae. She fussed and readied herself for her first meeting with the head of medical at Utopia Planetia.  She was late and she knew this was going to be a bad first impression.             Two turbo lifts and one excessively long corridor later Juabe came to Utopia Planetias central Medical Facility. It was on deck twenty-four on the fourth stationary complex.  Known as the M'Benga facility, it was designed to aid the nearly seventy-five thousand officers and crew that were permanently assigned to the shipyards. Jubae had just arrived from Starfleet Medical having only days before finished her internship on Earth.       The planet was on similar day cycles as Mars, but the alarm just didn't wake her. She had been having nightmares again and they had been keeping her from decent night's sleep.  She would have to schedule some time with a counselor.           As she walked into the mammoth facility she was awed by the fact that all of deck twenty-four, and the above three decks had been cleared out to create the hospital space.  It was a series of structures that were surrounded by a holo-matrix of the morning sky.  Presumably it transitioned throughout the day giving the patients and staff a feeling as if they were planet-side.            She entered the building and rushed towards her late appointment.  She looked desperately for Dr. Sandu's office, finally resigning to ask a passing nurse.  When she found it the door was ajar and there were two officers inside waiting expectantly.            "Doctor Bo Vadikaluala, I presume?" came a dry two hundred-year-old voice.           "Dr. Bova is fine," Jubae corrected shyly. Few people could pronounce her name correctly.           "Well then Dr. Bova, I can't help but notice your twenty-two minutes late." He turned to the person next to him.   The man was wearing a captain's rank and was easily recognized through out Starfleet.           "Captain Hansen." The young Andorian nodded.           The two men glanced at each other and then proceeded to sit down in the well decorated office. On the wall a picture of the Horse-head nebula hung, barely visible in the corner of the picture was a Constitution Class Heavy cruiser.           Bova stood her ground until directed to do otherwise.  Dr. Sandu, an older noble Vulcan, motioned her toward a chair, sat behind a modestly decorated desk and then began to explain the situation.  It wasn't anything that her official orders didn't cover. She was assigned to Utopia Planetia, but would accompany ships on short-term test flights. Sandu was to the point and didn't seem to be very friendly at all.   He had been with Starfleet for nearly one hundred and fifty years, serving on board several starships and bases.  He was part of Starfleet history and Jubae had studied his work as part of her curriculum.            Once the administrator had finished his speech he turned to Captain Hansen.  The Captain was tall, but was heavy-set for a human.  He was a strong, with a barrel shaped chest, thick hands and a stern look that impressed the young Andorian.      Jubae felt small before these two men. Most Andorians were deceptively thin, herself weighting in at less than 33 kilograms.  Of course, she could press two times her weight and was extremely agile.  But it wasn't her size that made her feel so tiny.           "You will report to me on the Agincourt tomorrow at Oh six hundred. We will be doing weapons testing for two days.  Assemble a team and," the Captain paused, "Be on time." Hansen smiled, but there was more than just a smile.           Bova nodded and was about to excuse herself when Dr. Sandu stopped her.           "You were selected for this post because of both your strengths and your weaknesses."           Bova's antenna raised up; she didn't understand.           "You did very well on your exams, but you were late to the testing."           "I passed with the highest score in my class-" she quickly protested, but then caught herself.           "Yes. And that would have gotten you your choice of assignment, but in space it isn't always about the score."           This from a Vulcan! Jubae was furious. Her antennae focused on the alien before her.   Her body relaxed, and readied itself.  It was instinct.           Then there was a strange sound; a klaxon that hadn't sounded in these great halls before.           The two officers stood up and Jubae was puzzled.  The Utopia Planetia base went to red alert.  Across the massive facility necks reached, and ears cocked. Was it a drill?  A mistake?  As it continued on a sinking feeling dropped across the thousands of officers and crewman.  A pit in their stomachs formed and a palpable tension thickened in the air.            "Bova, assemble your team and head to the Agincourt as soon as possible."           The Young Andorian bowed slightly and then exited.  Hansen looked at Sandu with a worried glance.  A red alert for the fleet couldn't be a good thing. Four The Origin      Seven point eight light years from the blue green center of the Federation, a fleet of the galaxies finest gathered. The Federation was an expanse of over five hundred light years, and though thousands of ships were in the fleet, only a few could be brought together in time to meet the invading force that now threatened the great civilization.      The center of the Federation, and the backbone of Starfleet, was Earth and her extensive human colonial endeavors. Though other species had far exceeded the humans in scientific accomplishments they all suffered a serious single drawback. For humans had one thing that the other founding members seemed to lack; an excessive ability to reproduce.  They build viable and strong population structures faster than any of the other major member races.   Within a single generation a human colony world could develop and produce a viable and stable economic base without enlisting the resources of neighboring populations.  Other member races could not match this population expansion.      Without the humans to man the ships and build the fleets, the other races would never have been able to unite in such a great solidarity.  Humans were literally the body of the United Federation of Planets.      A direct strike against any other home world would be horrible, but to take Earth meant something far worse.  Earth was the center of the human culture, it was the unifying force that bound countless colonies of humans, and it was without a doubt, the greatest source of them in the Federation. Without the constant supply of life from the Earth, the fleets would slowly dwindle and the great Federation would wither away.       Upon the decks of the forty ships that had gathered to stop the great invader, not a single soul thought any less than to give his life to defend the Earth, for the Earth was the Federation. And though only a handful of the thousands gathered knew what they were about to face, no single being would turn away. Andorian, Tellarite, Vulcan, Centaurian, and Human were united.      On the bridge of the Agincourt, as was with the rest of the fleet, the officers and enlisted alike stood with rushing intrepidation. Kirk was at the tactical station at the back of the bridge.  She could still feel a sharp pain in her side and wondered if the damn hologram had done its job well enough. She reviewed the incoming logs, and was overwhelmed with what she saw.  Less than four hours ago the Enterprise engaged and was defeated by this new enemy, the Borg. They used advanced weapons that adapted and were powerful beyond anything she had ever seen.  They could analyze any attack and effectively counter it.  They could never be hit the same way twice.  Kirk had some fears, this was something of terrible form, but she had faith in the tenacity and intelligence of Starfleet.  They would, as they had always done before, overcome.      The fleet was gathered, forty ships in all, to stand against a single enemy craft.  It was painfully obvious that standard weapons would be useless against the Borg.  Of course the Agincourt was not equipped with standard weapons.      Tien browsed the most recent sensor scans.  The set up of the Borg ship was decentralized, with an unidentified power source.  It was immense (the size of a small space station) and its cube like configuration defied any known structural or warp dynamic principals.  It shared technological and biological theorem, married in a Frankenstein like fashion. It was alive, and yet not alive, like something from a childhood nightmare.       Tien was awed by this new thing and felt a strange admiration towards it.  An odd point came to his attention as he scrutinized the incoming data.  The Borg ship, hundreds of times more advanced than any vessel in the Starfleet, seemed to contain a few backwater technologies.  The power distribution nodes were nothing more advanced than what Starfleet was using.  Intra-ship mechanical transmissions were not subspace, but high-band EM; much less efficient than ODN lines.  It didn't make much sense to Tien. This race was baffling in its ad hoc approach to function.  That is to say it seemed as if they had given very little forethought to the overall construction of their ship.  Rather they had built it up as they went along improving over time.  Even the articulators in their doors were nothing new.  Technology like that had been seen on the frontier for several years.  It seemed to Tien to be something fairly primitive from a race that could travel faster than warp nine point nine.      "We are facing a new threat to the Federation, one unlike anything that we have seen before.  This force isn't interested in geopolitical boundaries, or commercial gains, but it sees us, our ships, and our technology, as a fundamental resource for its continued existence.  The Borg are here to consume us like a locust plague and we are all that stands before the Earth and this evil swarm." Admiral Hansen's Image stood on the main view screen with a troubled brow.  His hastily gathered fleet could stop any known force, or at the least slow it down.  But there was an undertone that was left unsaid.  A fear that there was something inevitable about this battle, something he didn't want to tell his fleet.  Death was coming and it didn't come on a pale horse, instead it came as a giant metal cube.      Captain Hansen turned from his father's grim visage and looked to his crew, "People, we have been ordered to support the fleet with long range torpedo bombardment. What that means is we are going to get a better chance to watch what happens. Let's keep our eyes open and our ideas fresh." He turned back to the main viewer at the front of the bridge and looked down to his conn and ops.  Faulkner and Tien looked back at him, waiting to follow his lead.      "As soon as that thing comes into range I want randomized frequencies on all our shields, keep it rotating and eliminating those used by other ships. Kirk, don't let your finger off the button until we are completely out, and Faulkner hold position, but be ready to dance us out of here if necessary."           "Sir," Tien spoke up.           "Yes, Dan." Hansen smiled calmly as if he were a master instructing children and not on the verge of galactic annihilation.           "I have been noticing several incongruent technologies, and none of them are consistent with Federation equipment or transmission bands."           "What are you saying son?"           "Well according to the Enterprise logs, they want our technology, but they don't seem to have integrated any of it yet."           "It might take time to do that." Faulkner interjected.           "Or they might not want to integrate it until they have defeated us." Kirk pointed out.           "I don't think so," Tien said adamantly.           "Seven minutes until interception with hostile vessel." Hansens' first officer Marco Leeds announced.  Leeds had been with Hansen for nearly seven years, promoted from a lieutenant and reared through Starfleet by the captain himself. He was a tall man, lean with a dark complexion, possibly Indian in decent.           "What are you saying Tien?"  Hansen asked trying to cut through what he knew could be seven minutes of technobable.           "I have noticed a 2.21 gamma energy spike in their door articulators." Tien began.      "What do their doors have to do with anything?" Faulkner was annoyed.           "What about the doors?" Hansen seemed interested.           "Well that is the same range as Romulan ore processors use in their pneumatic micro pumps."           "Standard English son."           "I have worked at several mining sites with my parents, Romulan technology is very distinct. The Borg have integrated Romulan micro pumps to open and close their doors."           "That could be a coincidence." Faulkner pointed out.           "Maybe, but the signature is identical.  They have absorbed that technology and probably have done it with in the last few years; they only recently developed the 2.21 range pumps." Tien explained, but was unsure why his shipmates weren't following along.           "What's your point ensign." Hansen was sharp.           Dan could tell that the captain didn't want the technical details, "The Borg have had a longer time to assimilate Federation technology, but they haven't. Why?"           There was no answer, and Dan continued, "Because they can't talk to our equipment.  The micro pumps are simple machines, though incredibly innovative.  They just require a gamma source to function, but most Federation technology is based on subspace transceiver and integrated multi-tronic mother-boards.  There is nothing in these scans that show the Borg as having anything similar to that.   They don't know how to talk our language.  They haven't assimilated something to transition our technology to their current established tech."           "If what your saying is true, how can we use that to our advantage?" Kirk was quick to understand.           "I don't know." Tien admitted.           "Three minutes to intercept with hostile vessel." Commander Leeds announced            "War       "War of the worlds!" Faulkner shouted.           The Bridge crew looked at him and waited for an explanation.           "It was a radio broadcast in the late 19th century."           "Radio wasn't invented until 1940." Kirk corrected.           "Whatever, the story had an invading force killed by a virus.  Stuff that humans were already immunized against." Faulkner spoke with an excited tone. Like a child that knew he was the only one with the right answer.           "A computer virus that can affect broad based systems, but wont affect ours." Hansen muddled it in his mind.      "The Borg are decentralized, they might be able to contain it," Leeds warned.      "We might be able to tap into their power distribution nodes with a subspace signal, they have no protection from that." Tien smiled.           "Two minutes till intercept." Leeds called again.           "Alright people- Leeds find a virus that will work against them but is useless against Federation technology, Tien see if you can find away to deliver it to the cube uniformly." "Sir, the Iconian translatory program." Tien suggested.           Hansen paused.  He knew that Dan was the son of two very famous explorers, and he knew that they had done work on the ancient Iconians, a near mythical species that filled the imaginations with wonder. That is mythical until a Federation Starship recently found a functioning Iconian computer.  The advanced device was programmed to upgrade computer systems as it went along, but had never seen a Federation ship before.  It created billions of errors in its attempt to modify the ship's software.  The U.S.S. Yamato had been destroyed because it uploaded this virus.  Starfleet was leery of this strange computer plague. Unable to control it, they had deleted any known source or copy and banned it.  But it seemed that young ensign Tien might have had access to it from outside of Starfleet.            "I would advise against that sir," Kirk warned, "Not all Federation ships are upgraded to resist the virus."           "I agree. Let's keep that on the backburner.  Everybody look sharp here they come..."            Five The Borg           "We are the Borg, lower your shields and surrender your ships. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.  You will be assimilated; resistance is futile." Spoke the billion voices of the dark collective led by a single mind.  Led by one of the Federation's finest, Jean Luc Picard.           The Cube shaped ship was five kilometers square on each facing side and was like a small city that had dropped out of warp.  Its subspace wake washed against the first line formation and the starships lurched in the waters, but where quick to respond.      The Federation ships moved and lanced out with highly tuned and adapted phasers and torpedoes.  The great cube swatted at the gnats and cutting through the front line in less than ten seconds.  It proceeded forward breaking the second line just as easy.       Admiral Hansen ordered all ships to create a subspace wake with their warp drives, stirring up the waters to prevent the cube from escape.  It was a good strategy, but left only one option for the dark juggernaut.            The Federation had lost three ships with in the first twenty seconds of the conflict, and nearly 1500 lives thrown into the black oblivion, but they were now one up on the cube.   They had effectively trapped it and were now swarming at the leviathan.       The great cube pushed forward and rammed two more ships, with no consequence to itself, ending another thousand lives callously.  Billions of joules of energy poured onto the monster but its strange metal skin was not touched.  Phasers, photon torpedoes, and even anti-matter detonations thundered onto the great beast, but nothing could seem to touch the dark black metal flesh.           The Kushyu, a powerful ship, moved to deploy a special torpedo. Her weapon bays were hit with a single swipe of the dark cube's cutting beams and imploded her hull.  The ship split in two: its upper portion spinning wildly into the cube, and its lower part tumbling away severely damaged by one of the Borgs' slight attack.  It ejected its warp core and in an uncontrolled moment the great gem, the heart that sits within all starships, exploded with all the rapture of a god.  Billions of rads swam out and several Federations starships were wounded by the blast.  The cube paused as if to take a breath, but then moved forward again.       The Yorktown, an Excelsior class vessel, had come up with a multi-band torpedo and moved in, to fire at the cube.  As it attacked with its modified photon barrage, the cube reached out with a green glowing net and grabbed the mighty vessel.  It didn't fire at the ship, it didn't hurl it or rend it nacelle from nacelle. It simply drained its shields, beamed off the crew and sent the ship adrift. Seven hundred men and women were lost.           Four minutes had passed and only 19 ships were left. The Saratoga ran in with two other ships, but they were repelled like nothing more than a small annoyance.  The casualties were now in the tens of thousands and the fleet wasn't doing well.           "Tien, have you been able to deliver a virus?" Hansen commanded.           "No sir, I have tried nearly twenty-eight different modulations, I think it might take more time."           "Kirk, any damage to the cube?"           "No damage sir, and we are down to eleven torpedoes," Kirks voice was tense and she didn't think that there was a way to win.           "Cease fire." Hansen said flatly. "This isn't going to work.  Kirk, target a spread of five torpedoes between us and the cube.  Faulkner, I want you to bring us in and under that thing.  Try to keep ground zero of the warp core detonation between us and it, that might screen their sensors."           Hansen stepped from his chair and walked back to the tactical station. He glanced at Kirk with a confident smile; "We are gonna to go in and grab as many of the survivors as we can."           Kirk didn't agree with the action, "Sir, we have to stop that cube first."           Mr. Leeds looked up as Kirk spoke.           Hansen began to coordinate the shields and the transporters, "Well, if we survive you might eventually be a first officer and then you can question the captains orders. Until then, ready the spread." He was kind with his words.      Kinder, Kirk thought than she would have been.      "Mr. Leeds, help Dan create some chaff with our Impulse exhaust," Hansen commanded in such away that it seemed nothing more than a suggestion to aid a friend.           Leeds was a Centaruan, similar to humans with some minor internal differences.  He was a pacifist by nature, but had not paused to order the Agincourt to fire.  There was something about the Borg that drove to the heart of the humanoid psyche.  They were a perversion of life, the undead, and by all that was right and holy they had to be stopped.      "Mr. Faulkner, go!" said the Captain as he began the operation.           Adam Faulkner focused and intently initiated the impulse drives.   He could feel the loss of power from them as Tien and Leeds readjusted the exhaust to create a radioactive cloud to confuse the Borg.  He compensated and arched the ship below the belly of the beast.  A slight smile betrayed the situation as he deftly slipped though fire and debris to run his ship within transporter range.            In the wake of the leviathan a debris field swam. Trapped in severed corridors and conduits thousands of officers huddled, praying for a rescue.  Unknown to the survivors, the Agincourt was on the way.            Standard transporters have an effective range of over 40,000 kilometers; more so if you have a good transporter technician at the pad.  But the same effect that kept the cube at bay also dropped transporter range to point blank.  With only a few thousand meters of reach, the Agincourt was forced to fly into the fire and sweep away her fallen comrades.           Kirk and Hansen began to beam the survivors of the drifting ships aboard.  Kirk collapsed micro portions of the shields, so that Hansen could coordinate the transporter rooms. The plan was working well and in only one minute of maneuvering they beamed aboard one hundred and twenty survivors.  Then there was a horrible shudder and the ship rocked as if it had been hit by a giant fist.            Hansen fell to the ground, Kirk wanted to help him, but her panel lit up with multiple shield breaches and she chose instead to keep the shields together.           "Report!" Hansen shouted and pulled himself up.  A cold shudder ran through him for he already knew the answer.           "The Borg are draining our shields with a tractor beam.   Helm is sluggish," Faulkner shouted as the ships began to vibrate unnaturally.           "Rotate us one hundred and eighty degrees starboard-" Leeds never finished his command.  Debris from a destroyed craft began to pelt the Agincourt. A large part of the Melbourne's secondary hull bashed into the shields, collapsing them and digging into the superstructure.  The ship shuddered under the conflicting pull of the Borg tractor beam and the unstoppable impact of the debris. The bridge was lit with a series of explosions from both inside and outside the ship.  Wiring fell from the ceiling and conduits ruptured with uncontrolled surges of energy.  The Ops panel exploded into a shower of fire as super heated plasma.  The panel was broken in half and threw Leeds and Tien back.  The two men lay slumped on the floor of the bridge, making no movements and surrounded by smoldering bits of plastic and metal.           Faulkner wanted to help his friends, but the ship was being pulled off course by the Borg tractor beam.  He overloaded the port reaction control thrusters and changed the yaw of the ship while there was still some shields left. The Agincourt was now facing the leviathan with its belly up.           "Kirk, initiate an emergency saucer separation before -"The bridge again exploded, all were thrust forward, and before Hansen could finish his order it was too late. The Agincourt was being tractored by the most powerful force in the known galaxy.                     "Damn it." Hansen swore under his breath.  He looked on to the view screen its entirety filled with the black steel skin of the giant Borg cube.  His gaze then drifted down through the red lit smoke.  He saw sprawled on the deck of the bridge his first officer and Dan Tien.           "Alright, let's get to the escape pods.  Divert all power to transporters, for those who can beam to the nearest surviving ships." He turned to the console and spoke.  His words echoed across the sinking vessel, "All hands abandon ship...repeat all hands abandon ship."           Faulkner locked the controls to ram the cube.  Should the Agincourt free herself from the tractor beam she would run full throttle into the enemy vessel.  He then jumped to the two fallen men.  Leeds was dead, but Tien had only been knocked out and was already coming to. Adam helped him to his feet and the two began to hobble to safety.           Hansen and Kirk turned to the nearest turbo lift. They could drop down to deck three and leave the ship via the escape pods.  They didn't know if they would be able to escape the tractor beam, but they were limited on options.  As they moved towards the  turbo-shaft, a green wavering glow interceded their path and Kirk was face to face with the Borg itself. Six The Great Escape           Kirk lashed out with a series of strikes to the metal flesh monster: fist, elbow, fist. At its base form the creature was human and she knew the strikes should have fractured its skull.  But the flesh was married to steel and the creature was not even paused.  The Borg snapped out its right arm in reply to the attack and sent Kirk tumbling over the bridge railing.           Hansen drew out his phaser but the Borg as quickly reached out and grabbed his throat. Hansen struggled for a moment then fell to the ground as the machine man released him.  The monster turned to the next crewman, an engineer who had been on the bridge trying to lock down a reactor leak. The crewman lunged at the beast, but for all the force that the young man could muster the machine thing simply stood its ground, immovable, and unstoppable.  The man stepped back, but not quickly enough. The creature snatched him by the throat.  He was about to fall at the hands of the borg, but Faulkner would not have it.      From the helmsman's phaser fiery energy lanced out across the bridge, but nothing happened to the Borg.  The undead machine dropped the young man and marched past him.  The engineer, like the captain had fallen to the ground gasping for air and struggling to stay alive.  His skin began to pale and it seemed as if death was taking him.           Kirk pulled herself to her feet, shaking off the impact and the fall, then pulled out her phaser and began to fire. Twin beams of fury, from her and Faulkner, lazed into the creatures' chest, enough power to explode nearly a ton of rock, and yet the blasts just washed over it as if they were made of nothing more than brightly colored streams of water.           "Let's get the wounded and go!" Kirk shouted as she crossed to the opposite side of the bridge.  There was no way to win this here and now. It was best to get as many out as she could. She took only a moment to taste the irony and understood now what Hansen was trying to do earlier.  There was still a lot she had to learn about being a captain.           The monster walked over to Leeds, kneeled down and grabbed his neck. Then stood and began to walk to the back of the bridge where Kirk, Faulkner, Tien, and the wounded were loading into a turbo lift.           Tien helped the young engineer into the turbo lift.  Once freed of his cargo he turned to Faulkner and shouted, "Keep it distracted, I think I can stop it."           Faulkner placed a wounded officer with the others and watched as Tien jumped back onto the bridge.   Tien shot past the Borg headed towards the science station on the starboard side of the bridge.  He had an idea and if it worked it was worth his life. The Borg turned away from the survivors and moved methodically towards Tien.      Kirk shouted for him to retreat but moved into support him realizing that Tien wasn't paying attention.  Tien was lost in the moment and it would take more than words to gain his attention.       Faulkner locked out the door controls.  He heard the turbo lift swoosh away and let rest of the bridge personnel leave his mind. He then moved toward the intruder in the center of the bridge.  The Borg was quick, but wasn't agile.  It walked as if it were forced to, each motion fierce and intense, yet awkward and clumsy.  What could be seen of its face was pale, like death, and the smell of something rotted and lost rose up from it.  It had been alive at one time, but now stood on the edge of the mortal coil, drifting close to, but never peering into the undiscovered country.           Tien landed at the science panel, cleared a way the rubble, and began to enter in the viral sequence. Kirk was still shouting for him to pull back but motioned to Faulkner to come around the machine-monster.  She maneuvered within arms reach of the thing and it turned toward her.  She leapt back with lightning speed and rolled over the rail to the tactical station. The creature looked confused for a minute, then stomped around the rail to follow Kirk.  It couldn't seem to see a way to navigate over the rail, and Kirk saw this as a weakness.  Adam then jumped in close to the beast, and it snapped and began to pursue him.  Suddenly this fearsome monster seemed somewhat less intimidating. The raging hell sent beast coddled down to nothing more than a mere puppet.           The two began to pickle the monster, dropping in and out of its range-one closer than the other then back, again.  The Borg's weakness was exploited.  This drone was programmed to move towards the nearest person no matter what.  It didn't use common sense or individual decision making power; it did what it was programmed to do. Had it not been so dangerous, the situation would have seemed comical.           Tien launched the back up program on the panel and rerouted the programming.   He focused the ship's subspace transceiver assembly on to the bridge and launched the last virus that he had.  The power distribution nodes on the cube were to well shielded to tap into the collective, but the processors on this drone were not. As Kirk had discovered, the drones were the weakest link in the collective, and Tien was going to make surethat they exploited it.       There was a shudder as the local space began to ebb at the mighty transmission.  The Borg drone continued to flutter between the two Starfleet officers, and Kirk thought for a moment that she could keep this up indefinitely.       It was done. The Iconian Virus had been transmitted to the small drone.  Soon its mechanical components would malfunction, and if Tien guessed right, the entire Borg collective would fall.  The Iconian virus would rend the great collective apart just as it had done to the USS Yamato, and just as it had done to his parents' ship.           Several green flickers appeared on the bridge.  The Borg had adapted. A dozen more drones transported in.  They were surrounding the three officers and it was painfully obvious that it was over. There was no place to run and no way to get through them.  Tien moved away from the science console towards the center of the room.  The Borg stood for a moment, still and quiet in the smoke-filled bridge.  Then in unison the came to life. They marched through the dimly lit world without pause or question.     Tien drew his phaser, then he felt something at his ankle.  Leeds was struggling up.  Tien pulled him to his feet, but something was horribly wrong with Leeds.  His face was wet, and black lines traced under his skin. When Leeds was on his feet he grasped at Tien and tried to hold him.           Faulkner and Kirk were back-to-back; phasers set to overload. They might die, but they were going to take some of these bastards with them.            The Borg began to close in on Tien as Leeds held him in a grip of steel.  Kirk and Faulkner were seconds away from annihilation, the choking air and the wall of undead slowly asphyxiating any hope of survival. The sound of the phasers began to rise as energy rebounded and built up in the pre-fire chambers.  Once initiated the subtle, fine weapons would become bombs that could rend the bridge from the hull.       Then every thing changed.           The green light of the tractor link faded from the main view-screen, the Borg stopped what they were doing and then looked up toward the cube.  They seemed as if they were listening to something like a whisper far away.  Even Leeds let go of Tien.           "What's happening?" Faulkner stood wide-eyed and ready to die.  The power building in his phaser was growing closer to detonation with every second.           "Tien lets go!" Kirk tuned down her phaser and shot Leeds.  Tien ran across the bridge but no Borg moved to stop him.              "My phaser is going to overload, I can't stop it!" Faulkner warned as he struggled with the device. The distinct high-pitched whine that came from the emitter crystal as it rebounded energy onto itself pierced their ears. They didn't have much time left.           Kirk turned her phaser to the doors and blew up the locking mechanism and the hydraulic systems.  She then pulled with all her might and forced the doors open enough to squeeze through.  The shaft was empty and not well lit.  She turned to Faulkner who tossed his weapon into the center of the bridge.  Kirk knew the Turbo shafts had no gravity but it made it no less dramatic as she dived into the darkened maw. Not missing a beat Tien and Faulkner jumped in right behind her.           The trio slowly dropped three decks and then felt the explosion of the phaser on the bridge. There was a blast of air and they began to rise again. Kirk grabbed the access ladder and Tien grabbed her foot.  Faulkner fell back and reached to grab Tien's leg but missed. The rush of air increased and they knew that the bulkhead had collapsed.  The ship had force-fields that would seal off such breaches, but nothing had yet come to intercede.  Adam watched Tien fade in the darkness and he knew that if he couldn't grab something soon he would die. The air was rushing in his ears and his breath was growing short.  Adam braced to hit the doors that led to the bridge.  The fear of death by vacuum thick on his mind, and he prayed that when he hit he would have enough strength to keep himself from being torn into space.           Kirk pulled with all her might.  Her fingers wet with perspiration and she was slipping off the cold steel ladder. They were in zero G, but the air was pulling at them mercilessly.  The entire volume of the turbo shafts ran past them like an onslaught hurricane funneled through a ten by ten tube.  If she were alone she could do it, but with Tien holding on she would soon slip.  Gritting her teeth and focusing with all her mind she pulled in against the blasting wind and locked her arm in the rungs. Her arm would rip from her socket before she would let go.            Then the blasting air stilled as the structural integrity fields formed electric scabs over the wounds of the Agincourt. Adam quickly climbed down the dark shaft towards his friends.  They rallied their strength, pried open the doors to deck three, and collapsed on the cold steel floors. Only a scant red flickering light colored their skins, as the acrid air of the deck vented slowly past them and into the now quiet shaft.           "Can't breath..."Tien grasped as he put his face to the cool steel.           "You'll be fine. There is...plenty of air.  Keep low." Kirk said in short concise bursts.       Less than ten minutes had passed since they had engaged the Borg and Kirk had no idea how much longer it would last.  Her mind raced with thoughts of Leeds, Hansen, and the fate of the Earth.  Things were happening too fast for her to take them in.  She needed a plan of action and she needed to save her crew.  No less than a miracle would work.           "Dammit!" Faulkner exclaimed, "I locked the controls onto the cube.  We're gonna ram it."           "We would have already hit it by now." Kirk said as she looked up and scanned down the corridor.  She wiped the sweat from her face and pulled herself up in the darkness. The ship rumbled and she held the wall to maintain her footing.  Photon wake;  at least they were still fighting out there.            "She's right." Tien confirmed as the lights on the deck began to flicker back to life.            A single central corridor dominated deck three. It had lateral junctions, an armory and several offices.  It also had the escape pods.       "I want you two to see if there are any escape pods left.  I'm going to check this deck for survivors." Kirk didn't want to tell them what she really had planed; that she was about to give the Borg one last punch in the nose.      Kirk motioned them to ready an escape pod while she ran to her office.  She rounded the corner and there was one of the Borg. It was still poised as if something were whispering into its metal-flesh ear.   It was between her and where she wanted to be.           She held her breath and quickly slid past it. Like its brothers on the bridge, it seemed locked in a fugue state. As she rushed by it she could smell oil and rotted flesh.  It was nauseating, but she steeled herself and moved on.       As she entered her office she looked at the Lurpa in the corner. It was a gift from the Ambassador himself. A flicker of a smile flashed across her beaten brow at the thought of Ambassador Spock handing her such a gift.  She immediately refocused on her desk computer and began to pull up pertinent files.           "Computer, auto destruct sequence.   Kirk Amanda T.; gamma, one, seven, zero"           The screen made no sounds but asked for the verification.           "Kirk to Faulkner, I can't get back to you. Launch now."           "We aren't leaving you Lieutenant!" Tien's voice came across from her comm. badge.           "I'll take a different pod- go now. That's an order."           She looked at the screen waiting to commit herself to this effort.  Faulkner had launched them at the Borg, and the tractor had let go. If the cube stopped then the ship would continue to drift toward it.  When the Kyushu blew her warp core it paused the beast. At the least the Agincourt would pause it again, if not destroy the thing completely.           "Computer, zero, zero, destruct-" But she was interrupted before she could enter in the final sequence.  The doors to her office swished open and her phaser was drawn and aimed before they were fully parted.  But she did not fire.           "Amanda!" Chartreuse screamed out, her slicked back blue hair; now shuffled and dull. Next to her was an Andorian woman that Kirk hadn't seen before.  They both had rifles and they were aimed at Kirk.           "Kirk, Lieutenant Commander." She said to the Andorian.           "Bova, Doctor Bova." She stepped aside to reveal two other humans also wearing medical uniforms, "This is Green and Craig."           We were heading towards the bridge when these things started grabbing people." Chartreuse explained, still not lowering the weapon.           "Did you let them touch you?" Bova still held a phaser rifle at Kirk.            Green pulled out a tricorder and began to scan Kirk, "Minor infection, surface only.  We can amputate."           Green was a young woman of fair complexion, emerald eyes and a distinct  gem on her brow indicative of her Hindu background.           "Whoa, hold on there. I'm one of the good guys.  Ivey?"           "She'll be fine if we can get her to a medical facility." Bova spoke to Chartreuse as if Kirk were not present.           "They have micro mechanical assimilators that convert the blood and body tissue making you one of them." Chartreuse explained.           Kirk looked at her hand, the one she had struck the alien with. It was irritated and itched, the skin growing pale around the knuckles.           "Faulkner to Kirk.  We got a problem."           Chartreuse eyes lit as she whispered her lovers' name.           "Report" Kirk said as Bova and the others lowered their phasers.           "The escape pods can't launch, " Faulkner's voice was low and edgy.           "Why not?"           Then there came a deep groaning as if something large had begun to push on the hull. The ship shuddered and Kirk knew that tractor had been re-engaged.  She grabbed a tricorder from her desk and motioned Green for her his rifle.  There was a moment of hesitation, and but the young nurse gave it up.           Paula Green had only three years in Starfleet medical.  She had joined because her family had, in one way or another, been apart of Starfleet since its inception.  She didn't want to face the frontier, nor fight in boarder skirmishes.  She wanted to be a nurse, helping and caring for the hurt and injured.            "Zero, zero, destruct; one," Kirk said adamantly to the waiting computer. She thought about it for a moment. How much time would she have before the cube could re-enter warp. "Eight minute silent count down."           "What the-!" Jubae pushed towards Kirk, "You just killed us all!"           "Doctor your more than welcome to stay," Kirk pushed her aside, "But I'm leaving." And then she briskly walked out into the corridor.      The machine man was still in the corridor attentively listening to the silence, but Kirk suspected that wouldn't last long.  She ran past it without pause and then nodded for the others to come. Knowing it probably was shielded against her weapon, Kirk focused her phaser on the floor beneath the drone.  If it moved she would blast the floor away.  It wouldn't kill the drone, but would slow it down long enough for them to get by.  Bova, Chartreuse, and the two medical techs quickly ran past the drone.       They re-grouped at the escape pod hatch where they could see what Kirk had planned. The escape pods small viewer showed that the ship was being pulled closer to the Cube.           "I guess they want a closer look." Kirk said. Her communicator beeped and she instinctively tapped at it, "Kirk here."           "We are the Borg...." the voice began. She looked down at her chest and pulled the commbadge off.  Then the others began to chirp and announce the Borg mantra.... "You will be assimilated."           "Resistance is futile," sounded through the corridors.           "Your life as you have known it is over, from this point forward you will service us." Every piece of equipment that could relay sound spoke the horrible chant repeating it endlessly.      The Comm panels lit up and the LCAR's display fluttered and faded. The familiar interface replaced by strange ganglia-like glyphs.  The transmission began to play on the corridor panels and a familiar face appeared.  It was Captain Picard of the Starship Enterprise.  He had been assimilated by the Borg, and was chanting the undead mantra.           "Jesus, is that Captain Picard?" Green gasped.  Green was a cadet at the academy the year that the Enterprise had launched.  She had the pleasure of hearing Picard speak at a ceremony. His smooth voice was now lifeless and cold.  She had thought that he was the indomitable Captain, and if he couldn't stop these things, then no one could.           "Is that what's going to happen to Leeds?" Faulkner spoke gravely.           "We're not gonna make it are we," Bova's voice was lost and empty.           The drone, as if on cue turned towards the group and began to walk.           Kirk swallowed deeply and gritted her teeth. It was time for a miracle, only none were coming.                                          Next time on Star Trek the Virtual series.... Kirk must find a way off the Agincourt, but the Borg brood are everywhere. Can they survive and if so how?  Read the next exciting adventure of Star Trek the Virtual Series in thirty days.  Same website, same webspot!                                                                        Credits. Written and Illustrated by                                   Justin Lindsey Allman Edited and Proofread by                                        Jacob Hensel Produced and developed by                               Justin Lindsey Allman                                                                                        Jacob Hensel Like what you saw? Wanna know more about Kirk, Tien, or Faulkner? Looking to break into writing? We need great artists and writers to help develop the series.  Send us a query letter. Write us at Starfleet63@aol.com and lets us know what you thought. HOME

USS DEFIANT

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Star Trek the Virtual Series: Episode Three The Battle of Wolf 359 Part I                               Story & Illustrations by Justin Lindsey Allman     The wind was screaming defiantly across the frozen tundra; an alien sky hidden by the blinding white storm.  Horrific currents of air carried scatter shot ice and snow that battered against the blue female figure that walked in the blizzard.  Tufts of stinging ice collected on her cobalt blue skin and her white braided hair whipped around like dying serpents.     Her eyes were deep emerald with flecks of gold spattered in a halo of spectral fire, circling a hollow blackness. Her magic eyes darted back and forth in the blinding curtain of rage.  She swept the icy planes hunting for something in the heavily packed ice.     She breathed in deep to try and catch the scent of the prey, but the wind was wrong. As she inhaled the cold air drank down her throat like ice water. She savored it, longed for it.  Here she was once again in her element; the ice and snow bringing her heat dulled senses back from their slumber.  This place was life, this moment, this action.  She was the hunter here, and she was alive.  The other place was hot and filled with confusion.  It was not pure.     She flickered in the violent raging ocean of static, a readied blue bolt, edging to strike.  Her muscles flexed and she stood on the balls of her bare feet.  Her fingers were like claws and her body was hunched in a feral stature.  She was the predator hunting in the storm, and the thoughts of the warm place faded.      Her five senses were blinded by the blizzard, but she knew her prey was there.  Again she swept the icy fields looking for it.      Then she sensed the quarry and tensed.  Somewhere inside, an acid fire spread from her gut and filled her blood and limbs.  It ate away at what little sentience she had, and she became one with her instincts, consumed only by the lust for her pray.     Her knobbed antennae that sat high on her head, focused onto a spot deep in the ice.  Then with a lightning snap she launched.  The blue girl slashed into the icepack like a hungry tiger.  She tore into the icy body and ripped from it the burning little life form that she had been seeking.  A small mammal screamed and shrieked in her hands, struggling in her iron grip. As quickly as she had pulled it out she bit down onto its body and a burst of blue blood shot out, warm and steaming in the cold summer storm.     Eviscerated tendrils hung from the young girls' lips as she screamed out in a primal euphoric song to the gods, the storm and the joy of the hunt. Part One SD 43989.25 Utopia Planetia Shipyards, Mars Orbit.           "You're crazy," Chartreuse Ivey said as she walked quickly into a turbo lift.  Her slicked back, dark blue hair, and genetically matched eyes were glistening in the artificial light.           "There is nothing crazy about wanting to be a test pilot.  Besides, testing a starship isn't like testing a shuttle." Adam Faulkner smiled casually as if nothing in the universe mattered to him, "You can't get to other galaxies in a shuttle."           "Ensign Faulkner, the galaxy would be a much nicer place without you," she said with sarcasm, "Deck one fifty-one."     The lift was designed to carry far more than the two that it held. They were tiny figures traveling down a great and vast corridor.           The doors hissed shut and he turned to her, "That hurt." His blue-eyed good looks dashing her with all their might.           "Well you're the one hopping galaxies." She turned away mocking emotional hurt. She was slight in comparison to him her eyes only level to his strong jaw.           "I didn't think you cared," his tone was nonchalant.           "I don't." She turned back to him, this time she was much closer.           "If you don't care," he moved closer to her blue genetically colored lips feeling her breath on his face.           "Why would I?" She closed her eyes and the vast world that they were in became much smaller.  The entire universe compressed into the space around them.           "I can think of a reason or two."  He kissed her with all the love that a moment could hold.           The doors to deck one fifty-one opened up a moment later and the two lovers resumed their professional stances.  It wasn't that they were ashamed, just that they had not decided to announce to the world that they were in love.  Each had their reasons.  For Adam it was a drastic change of persona, far from his womanizing reputation.  For her it was a great and important fact that such things were kept from the family.           "I talked to Kirk last night.  She says that the last of the Einstein's weapons systems have been scuttled and they are going to permanently reassign us to Utopia Planetia. I'm not too excited about that." Chartreuse said as she stepped out of the shaft and into a main corridor.            "I was surprised that Kirk didn't get reassigned to a ship."           "Well, with the fleet as it is, there isn't much openings for command. There are more captains than ships right now and that means less positions to fill," she said as she looked out one of the portals and into the massive shipyards.            The two had come to an observation point with seven giant windows that looked out onto the expansive facility.  Utopia Planetia was the third largest shipyard in the Federation and the current home to seventy-five percent of developmental and upgrade projects for Starfleet. From where the two stood at least thirty ships could be seen in kennel-like cages far above the pale red Martian surface.  The facility was spread high in the orbital sky above the frozen Martian sands.      A great series of starbases and docking structures hung about; each placed with precision and care.  Very few orbital bases could match the size of the shipyard, and it sat as a gem in the crown of the United Federation of Planets.           Faulkner stood in awe of this magical place. For him it was a celestial nursery- a place where the finest form of technology and style could be meshed together into the mighty starships of his dreams. It was as if he were a child surrounded by pure unfettered love.  But there was one ship that stood out above all the others, "You see that one there?"           "The Menagaha?" Chartreuse spied over his shoulder, the two stopped, taken in by the grand panorama.           "No, next to it.  I want her." He spoke as if Chartreuse were only a witness who was there when he made the claim on his future. The vastness returned as she was forced from that small reality that the two had held.           "The Intrepid class isn't even space worthy yet. They've only just finished installing the deck plates," she said in a defensive tone.     Chartreuse felt a tinge inside herself.  No matter how strong her bond felt with Adam, she knew there could be no permanence.     Genetics.  At one time genetic purity ruled her people by deciding who would live and who would never even be born. The Coridan people no longer held prejudice against 'unpure' genetic lines, but there were still echoes of that past running through their modern customs. They believed that a being wasn't defined by its mind, but rather its mind was defined by its physical and genetic make-up.  No man could be more than the sum of his parts. It was a fierce part of her culture, and strong fact of her family traditions.     As Adam eyed the grand ship, she knew what her parents would see in him.  His far off focus would be identified as a genetic flaw.  They would call him a reckless dreamer who strove towards things that could never be.  A behavior sponsored by irremovable genes, a permanent wall that would keep them from ever being more than close friends.           "Twenty-three seventy." He whispered the holy date.      "That's nearly two years away."           "She is supposed to be one of the most maneuverable ships ever built." He turned from the windows and the two resumed walking the corridor, but she was no longer in his eyes.  Adam saw only the new steel and the dream of speed.            Faulkner continued on about the Intrepid's statistics.  And though Chartreuse understood the information, probably better than he did, she was not paying attention at all. Her thoughts were focused on the genetic scan that she had sent back to Coridan.  She was in love with Adam Faulkner and after nearly six months together she had finally decided to run compatibility tests.     'Type A humanoid behavioral patterns; consisting of extreme competitiveness, ambition, impatience, hostility, angry outbursts, and a sense of time pressure.'           The two walked to an extended gangway plank that led from the station and out to the USS Agincourt, it was a decommissioned Excelsior class starship.  She was being brought back from the mothballs by order of Starfleet command.  She and seventy-three other ships from the pastures had been brought out and were being put back onto the line.  No one really understood why, but there was speculation that recent overtures from the Romulan Government had put the powers that be on alert.           They walked across into the great ship that sat inside one of the massive docking bays, one of the many wombs of Utopia Planetia. There were five major docks, and each could hold several starships.  The vastness of the Utopia facility was boggling, but often forgotten by the beings that scuttled about the great, living body.            The Agincourt was nearly seventy-five years old and had seen more than her fair share of service.  Originally assigned to exploration, she found most of her service in the Klingon Empire.  During the reconstruction period she ran cargo and medical supplies to boarder worlds.  She never made her mark in history, but she was a loyal ship of the line.           Faulkner and Chartreuse had made the small trek in search of the torpedo room on the Agincourt, where a diligent young officer was hard at work.           The torpedo room of the ship was set on deck ten, and was built with plenty of room to walk about.  But, the Agincourt had a very special series of modifications that now made the room confined and difficult to maneuver.  The new structures contrasted with the old styling and created an eclectic mesh.  It was an odd thing to look at, as this ship was built in another time and had long ago been retired.      The mothball fleet had been set aside for a reason; the ships were too old to maintain the rigors of regular space travel.  But with some minor upgrades these tired old mares could be made into special duty vessels that weren't required to suffer the same hardships as they had in their younger day.      The Agincourt had been refitted to house the most powerful weapons in the Starfleet inventory, the Mark 22 Zeus Torpedo.  Designed to be used with a planetary or base mounted launcher it was the highest yield torpedo ever produced.   Having been fully tested and installed the only thing keeping the great dame from being re-commissioned was a software glitch in the anti-matter transfer conduits.  A small task left for a young ensign named Daniel Tien.           Tien had been so focused on the task at hand that he had failed to see Faulkner and Chartreuse approach. He was interwoven in to the superstructure attempting to reprogram the very last portion of the computer interface that would allow the firing computer to talk to the transfer conduits. He was about two meters off the ground and lodged into a small niche muttering to his tricorder.           "Happy Christmas Mr. Tien." Chartreuse said with a broad smile and an extended hand. A bright green and gold package was held within her slight fingers.           Daniel jumped, and turned to see his guests below him. He smiled, then slowly lowered and set himself down on to the floor and said, "Merry Christmas.  Its Merry, not happy."           "Is there a difference?" Chartreuse asked in a worried tone. She was not from Earth and knew only what Adam had told her about the event.           "I know it's a few days late." Adam held out a small package to Tien.           "I didn't know that we were going to exchange gifts." He took the two small packages," I didn't even know you guys celebrated Christmas."           "Well, I don't really, but I knew you did," Adam smiled.           "Oh," Tien said flatly.      "You do celebrate Christmas don't you?" Chartreuse's worries hadn't lessened.           "Sure." Dan lied, " It was very popular when I was a kid. We had a tree and a candelabra thing."           "The Menorah?"           "It's called a dradle-I think," he stumbled as he took the packages.  He opened Charturce's first, peeling away the tree green paper and the thin gold wrap. The package was very small and when opened it revealed a series of isolinear chips.  He looked up, confused at the gift.      "They are a holo-programs. The first one is the Iconian site and Jaresh four.  It was designed by Arlene Rodgers." She smiled proud of her find.            "My mother." Dan said as straight-faced as he could.           The two looked at each other and then to Tien.           "My mother remarried when I was eleven, to Alan Rodgers, the explorer."           "Then you don't need to open mine," Adam said frankly.           Tien looked at the red little package, obviously isolinear chips.           "It's the complete works of Alan Rodgers," Faulkner sighed.           There was an awkward pause and then Tien broke the moment, "Thank you.  It really is the thought that counts."           "You don't really celebrate Christmas do you?" Faulkner asked.           Tien gave him a shallow wag of his head.           "The books bio says that Rodgers was born on New Beijing, and is fourth generation Buddhist."           "Well, that's true, but I am not a Buddhist.  And don't believe book jackets, they only include superficial details."  He turned away from the two and looked up to where he had been wedged. "It's done.  I was just about to call Captain Hansen and let him know."  Tien turned back over his shoulder, "You ready to fly this crate?"           "You mean is she ready for me?"           "There's not another ensign in Starfleet that could have done what I did.  Of course she's ready." Two Into the Looking Glass           The heat rose off the cracked desert floor in blistering waves.  In the distance the illusion of water tempted any life that could see it.  The sun hung high in the sky and only the most virulent of life dared it. Today was a good day to die.           The fiery plane was filled with warriors, hundreds of men and women engaged in a mass confrontation the likes of which would frighten any civilized being. Each combatant was rage personified: born to be here, born to die in battle. Trained from birth with nearly ten thousand years of collective experience.   Each of these killing machines was the finest culmination of effort, experience and form.  Each blade that was swung was a lifetime of skill, each parry a leap faith of one or a thousand gods. Only the strong would survive this conflict, but none here were weak.           Amanda T. Kirk lifted up the Lurpa of her adopted family and brought it down and through a Vulcan knights' sword and armor. She pulled back as green blood splattered across her face, the dying warrior still lashing out.  Another quick movement, a thrust forward with the angry weapon and the knight fell.  There was no time to gloat over her enemy, but her body was near its physical limits.  She paused over the dead Vulcan mentally steeling herself for the next fight.       A mounted warrior plowed through the sea of Vulcan's and spied the lone human fighter.  She turned away-by luck-just as his lance tore into her side.           Kirk rolled with the strike as the long spear ripped open her armor. She was saved from being skewered, but not from the inertia of the blow. She was spun onto the ground and lost her weapon.  She reeled in pain, her already fractured rib crying out as she hit the ground.  She had lost some blood and was sure that she had an internal organ giving out, though she didn't know which one.  She thought that maybe it was time to end this, that she had taken it too far, but the lives of her former crew burned into her heart and spurned her onward.           Rising with pure adrenal strength, she moved towards a nearby soldier. It didn't matter which one, any would do now.   All that was important at this point was the fight.      The Vulcan was wearing thin armor and held a horrific black metal mallet. Like her, the man was badly injured: two short arrow shafts protruded from his back.  She rushed forward to strike him, but he was too fast.  Before she could bring up her arms to strike, he back handed her and dropped young Kirk to the green-soaked field.  She was dizzy and confused. She couldn't see her opponent, her eyes were stinging with blood and sweat. She tried to roll away, thinking that anywhere was better than where she was.  A heavy metal blow dug into the ground where she had just lain.       She turned to face the Vulcan warrior and saw the by the ever-burning sun.  The ugly metal mallet eclipsed the light of the burning Vulcan star and rushed towards her head.       The warrior was too fast; her injuries were severe.  Kirk knew it was over, and she knew that she was about to face death once again.  Shouting out now wouldn't help, she would have to take the hit and hope the safety protocols engaged.  But the steel mallet never hit. Having never closed her eyes she watched as the head of the club, a rather ugly spiked ball, floated mid-stride.  Not missing a beat she backed away, shifting amongst the frozen warriors.  Then she understood; somebody had paused the holodeck.  This wasn't a good thing, without a successful knock out the auto programs wouldn't engage.             "Com..."  Kirk bit into her fluttering endurance, she only had to say a single sentence to make it all right, "Computer, run Zimmerman Prototype..."           The Bloody green fields faded and the familiar yellow grid appeared around her. Replacing the murderous Vulcan warrior was a rather plain human in a Starfleet medical uniform.  He was medium height and average appearance.            "Please state the nature of the Medical Emergency."           "Grrall..."Kirk muttered as she fell on her back, the pain and injury finally taking her.           The hologram looked at her curiously and repeated its greeting.           "Run a medical diagnostic" a voice rang out, but it was not Amanda's or the holograms.           The hologram looked at the new presence on the holodeck, and then he looked around somewhat helplessly.           "Computer, replicate an away team medical kit," said the voice.           Amanda strained to look towards the entrance of the holodeck, but she was in too much pain to arch around.  She didn't need to see the face, for she knew who it was.           The holographic doctor grabbed the medical kit as it 'appeared from thin air' on the deck. He pulled the tricorder stowed on the side of the kit and kneeled by the fallen woman, then began to recite his diagnostic aloud.           "Multiple lacerations to the epidermis, six serious contusions.  Cranial trauma and a minor concussion.  Broken fourth rib, internal bleeding...."           "Amanda, you're an idiot."           "Eliza..."           "Save your breath.  Let this, whatever it is, do its job," said the voice with compassion.           The hologram then began to wave several wands over the patient as the stranger kneeled down beside the two. The woman was young, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight.  Strong features, yet with supple curves.   Her hair wasn't quite brown, a bit of red highlighted what would otherwise be a plain boring color, and her face was identical to Amanda T. Kirk's.           Elizabeth Kirk pitied her sister. Amanda had a classic case of survivor guilt. It was forged two years ago in the depths of unexplored space when her ship was captured and half its crew killed.  The only officer to survive was Kirk.  And though she brought home the rest of her crew, she could not shrug the culpability that she felt from death of her Captain and friends. So much had been lost out there in deep space, so much destroyed.      Elizabeth stood tall over her fallen sibling and felt a degree of separation.  This was not the sister that she had grown up with, but a pale replica of that lost girl.  It was fitting: the broken body to lay with the broken soul.           The holographic doctor stood up and stepped away.           Kirk sat up and checked her body.  Her clothing, a traditional Vulcan female warrior armor, was shattered and hung broken from her limbs.  Its brass-like metal appearance betrayed its ceramic nature.  The first synthetic metals came from Vulcan forged not by logical scientists, but by men and women who strove to stay back the weapons of their opponents.       Her ribs were in pain, and her head was still spinning. The medical hologram was made to fix the wounds, but had no concept of pain relievers.           "I could have you removed from duty." Elizabeth said, adding a sting of threat to her words.           Kirk pulled herself up and lumbered to the Lurpa that sat on the ground several meters away.  She picked up the weapon and inspected it with greater care than she had done for herself.  She didn't reply to her sister.   She only looked over her shoulder, listening to see what else her sibling counselor might say.           "What you're doing here isn't healthy, and what is this thing?"  Elizabeth crossed the grid and waived her hand at the hologram.           "Computer deactivate Zimmerman Prototype." was Kirk's only reply.           The doctor faded away.           "Amanda, you're not well. Let me help you." Her tone was true, and she empathized for her sister.           "The Emergency Medical hologram is a proposal for Starfleet.  It's in the initial stages, but promises to be very useful."           Elizabeth stared back at the space where the hologram had stood.           "I didn't deactivate all the safety protocols. If you wouldn't have paused the program I would have been knocked out and the EMH would have revived me."           "Sounds like good solid thinking. I'll recommend you for service... In the Klingon Empire!" Elizabeth reeled herself back in. She regained her composure and smiled at Amanda. It had been too long to start it off like this.  She wanted to heal the wounds not dig in them.           The two women starred at each other for several seconds, then a strange thing happened to Amanda Kirk.  Something that wasn't native to her face began to form.  Her lower lip tightened and a smile edged up as a tear dropped from her cheek.  Elizabeth mirrored the emotions and the two women embraced in the darkened holodeck.           "I missed you so much, Lizzy." Kirk whispered.           "Amanda, I am so sorry."           Kirk held her sister at arms length, to see the sibling that she had grown up with. The two hadn't really spoken in years.  Separated by conflicting duty assignments, but here in the face of her most sacred friend, she could not control the emotions of their sibling bond.  Two years of silence broken three decades of love.           The two Kirk's began to walk out of the holodeck hand in hand.            "Why now?" Kirk said to Elizabeth.           "I have come to ask you to come back to Vulcan." Elizabeth spoke slowly knowing that her intentions might be misinterpreted by her short-fused sister.           "So you have come to take me away again?" Kirk stopped at the entrance to the holodeck.  The peaceful light of the corridors of Utopia Planetia on her right, and the dark cold room on her left.           "I have come to ask you to return home.  Savvik has grown ill.  She may not make it."           Kirk paused.  When she had brought home her crew from deep space she wanted nothing more that to return to duty.  But the counselors had ordered her to take some time off.  It was the last thing that she wanted to do.  It was a betrayal to her crew.  Elizabeth should have understood why Kirk didn't want that sabbatical, but she instead argued in favor of it.  It had been a point of contention between the sisters since.           "Savvik has asked that you be present. She wishes to read  her will aloud."           "I do not need to be present for the law to recognize me," said Kirk with all the coldness of a lonely mountain peak.           "No, but she has requested it."           "I cannot.  I have my duty here."           Elizabeth sighed. She had expected this.  There was nothing more to say...perhaps before that ill-fated mission she would have made a plea on behalf of Kirks' humanity, but now she knew better. There was no arguing with Amanda T. Kirk.  Elizabeth placed her hand on Kirk's shoulder, "I understand." She then smiled and quietly walked away. Kirk stood alone in the portal.  Half her face was bathed in the soft glow of the outside world, the other in the darkened and empty shadow of the holodeck.  She was caught between two worlds and unable to embrace either as her own. Three First day on the Job           The door to Jubaes' quarters hissed open and the young Andorian girl bounced out on one foot, precariously trying to put her boot on while still in motion.  A few more well placed hops and the boot slid into place.  She was then out the door and on her way to a very important meeting.            She ran her fingers through her thick, meticulously braided snow-white hair and wiped a bit of lint from one of her antennae. She fussed and readied herself for her first meeting with the head of medical at Utopia Planetia.  She was late and she knew this was going to be a bad first impression.             Two turbo lifts and one excessively long corridor later Juabe came to Utopia Planetias central Medical Facility. It was on deck twenty-four on the fourth stationary complex.  Known as the M'Benga facility, it was designed to aid the nearly seventy-five thousand officers and crew that were permanently assigned to the shipyards. Jubae had just arrived from Starfleet Medical having only days before finished her internship on Earth.       The planet was on similar day cycles as Mars, but the alarm just didn't wake her. She had been having nightmares again and they had been keeping her from decent night's sleep.  She would have to schedule some time with a counselor.           As she walked into the mammoth facility she was awed by the fact that all of deck twenty-four, and the above three decks had been cleared out to create the hospital space.  It was a series of structures that were surrounded by a holo-matrix of the morning sky.  Presumably it transitioned throughout the day giving the patients and staff a feeling as if they were planet-side.            She entered the building and rushed towards her late appointment.  She looked desperately for Dr. Sandu's office, finally resigning to ask a passing nurse.  When she found it the door was ajar and there were two officers inside waiting expectantly.            "Doctor Bo Vadikaluala, I presume?" came a dry two hundred-year-old voice.           "Dr. Bova is fine," Jubae corrected shyly. Few people could pronounce her name correctly.           "Well then Dr. Bova, I can't help but notice your twenty-two minutes late." He turned to the person next to him.   The man was wearing a captain's rank and was easily recognized through out Starfleet.           "Captain Hansen." The young Andorian nodded.           The two men glanced at each other and then proceeded to sit down in the well decorated office. On the wall a picture of the Horse-head nebula hung, barely visible in the corner of the picture was a Constitution Class Heavy cruiser.           Bova stood her ground until directed to do otherwise.  Dr. Sandu, an older noble Vulcan, motioned her toward a chair, sat behind a modestly decorated desk and then began to explain the situation.  It wasn't anything that her official orders didn't cover. She was assigned to Utopia Planetia, but would accompany ships on short-term test flights. Sandu was to the point and didn't seem to be very friendly at all.   He had been with Starfleet for nearly one hundred and fifty years, serving on board several starships and bases.  He was part of Starfleet history and Jubae had studied his work as part of her curriculum.            Once the administrator had finished his speech he turned to Captain Hansen.  The Captain was tall, but was heavy-set for a human.  He was a strong, with a barrel shaped chest, thick hands and a stern look that impressed the young Andorian.      Jubae felt small before these two men. Most Andorians were deceptively thin, herself weighting in at less than 33 kilograms.  Of course, she could press two times her weight and was extremely agile.  But it wasn't her size that made her feel so tiny.           "You will report to me on the Agincourt tomorrow at Oh six hundred. We will be doing weapons testing for two days.  Assemble a team and," the Captain paused, "Be on time." Hansen smiled, but there was more than just a smile.           Bova nodded and was about to excuse herself when Dr. Sandu stopped her.           "You were selected for this post because of both your strengths and your weaknesses."           Bova's antenna raised up; she didn't understand.           "You did very well on your exams, but you were late to the testing."           "I passed with the highest score in my class-" she quickly protested, but then caught herself.           "Yes. And that would have gotten you your choice of assignment, but in space it isn't always about the score."           This from a Vulcan! Jubae was furious. Her antennae focused on the alien before her.   Her body relaxed, and readied itself.  It was instinct.           Then there was a strange sound; a klaxon that hadn't sounded in these great halls before.           The two officers stood up and Jubae was puzzled.  The Utopia Planetia base went to red alert.  Across the massive facility necks reached, and ears cocked. Was it a drill?  A mistake?  As it continued on a sinking feeling dropped across the thousands of officers and crewman.  A pit in their stomachs formed and a palpable tension thickened in the air.            "Bova, assemble your team and head to the Agincourt as soon as possible."           The Young Andorian bowed slightly and then exited.  Hansen looked at Sandu with a worried glance.  A red alert for the fleet couldn't be a good thing. Four The Origin      Seven point eight light years from the blue green center of the Federation, a fleet of the galaxies finest gathered. The Federation was an expanse of over five hundred light years, and though thousands of ships were in the fleet, only a few could be brought together in time to meet the invading force that now threatened the great civilization.      The center of the Federation, and the backbone of Starfleet, was Earth and her extensive human colonial endeavors. Though other species had far exceeded the humans in scientific accomplishments they all suffered a serious single drawback. For humans had one thing that the other founding members seemed to lack; an excessive ability to reproduce.  They build viable and strong population structures faster than any of the other major member races.   Within a single generation a human colony world could develop and produce a viable and stable economic base without enlisting the resources of neighboring populations.  Other member races could not match this population expansion.      Without the humans to man the ships and build the fleets, the other races would never have been able to unite in such a great solidarity.  Humans were literally the body of the United Federation of Planets.      A direct strike against any other home world would be horrible, but to take Earth meant something far worse.  Earth was the center of the human culture, it was the unifying force that bound countless colonies of humans, and it was without a doubt, the greatest source of them in the Federation. Without the constant supply of life from the Earth, the fleets would slowly dwindle and the great Federation would wither away.       Upon the decks of the forty ships that had gathered to stop the great invader, not a single soul thought any less than to give his life to defend the Earth, for the Earth was the Federation. And though only a handful of the thousands gathered knew what they were about to face, no single being would turn away. Andorian, Tellarite, Vulcan, Centaurian, and Human were united.      On the bridge of the Agincourt, as was with the rest of the fleet, the officers and enlisted alike stood with rushing intrepidation. Kirk was at the tactical station at the back of the bridge.  She could still feel a sharp pain in her side and wondered if the damn hologram had done its job well enough. She reviewed the incoming logs, and was overwhelmed with what she saw.  Less than four hours ago the Enterprise engaged and was defeated by this new enemy, the Borg. They used advanced weapons that adapted and were powerful beyond anything she had ever seen.  They could analyze any attack and effectively counter it.  They could never be hit the same way twice.  Kirk had some fears, this was something of terrible form, but she had faith in the tenacity and intelligence of Starfleet.  They would, as they had always done before, overcome.      The fleet was gathered, forty ships in all, to stand against a single enemy craft.  It was painfully obvious that standard weapons would be useless against the Borg.  Of course the Agincourt was not equipped with standard weapons.      Tien browsed the most recent sensor scans.  The set up of the Borg ship was decentralized, with an unidentified power source.  It was immense (the size of a small space station) and its cube like configuration defied any known structural or warp dynamic principals.  It shared technological and biological theorem, married in a Frankenstein like fashion. It was alive, and yet not alive, like something from a childhood nightmare.       Tien was awed by this new thing and felt a strange admiration towards it.  An odd point came to his attention as he scrutinized the incoming data.  The Borg ship, hundreds of times more advanced than any vessel in the Starfleet, seemed to contain a few backwater technologies.  The power distribution nodes were nothing more advanced than what Starfleet was using.  Intra-ship mechanical transmissions were not subspace, but high-band EM; much less efficient than ODN lines.  It didn't make much sense to Tien. This race was baffling in its ad hoc approach to function.  That is to say it seemed as if they had given very little forethought to the overall construction of their ship.  Rather they had built it up as they went along improving over time.  Even the articulators in their doors were nothing new.  Technology like that had been seen on the frontier for several years.  It seemed to Tien to be something fairly primitive from a race that could travel faster than warp nine point nine.      "We are facing a new threat to the Federation, one unlike anything that we have seen before.  This force isn't interested in geopolitical boundaries, or commercial gains, but it sees us, our ships, and our technology, as a fundamental resource for its continued existence.  The Borg are here to consume us like a locust plague and we are all that stands before the Earth and this evil swarm." Admiral Hansen's Image stood on the main view screen with a troubled brow.  His hastily gathered fleet could stop any known force, or at the least slow it down.  But there was an undertone that was left unsaid.  A fear that there was something inevitable about this battle, something he didn't want to tell his fleet.  Death was coming and it didn't come on a pale horse, instead it came as a giant metal cube.      Captain Hansen turned from his father's grim visage and looked to his crew, "People, we have been ordered to support the fleet with long range torpedo bombardment. What that means is we are going to get a better chance to watch what happens. Let's keep our eyes open and our ideas fresh." He turned back to the main viewer at the front of the bridge and looked down to his conn and ops.  Faulkner and Tien looked back at him, waiting to follow his lead.      "As soon as that thing comes into range I want randomized frequencies on all our shields, keep it rotating and eliminating those used by other ships. Kirk, don't let your finger off the button until we are completely out, and Faulkner hold position, but be ready to dance us out of here if necessary."           "Sir," Tien spoke up.           "Yes, Dan." Hansen smiled calmly as if he were a master instructing children and not on the verge of galactic annihilation.           "I have been noticing several incongruent technologies, and none of them are consistent with Federation equipment or transmission bands."           "What are you saying son?"           "Well according to the Enterprise logs, they want our technology, but they don't seem to have integrated any of it yet."           "It might take time to do that." Faulkner interjected.           "Or they might not want to integrate it until they have defeated us." Kirk pointed out.           "I don't think so," Tien said adamantly.           "Seven minutes until interception with hostile vessel." Hansens' first officer Marco Leeds announced.  Leeds had been with Hansen for nearly seven years, promoted from a lieutenant and reared through Starfleet by the captain himself. He was a tall man, lean with a dark complexion, possibly Indian in decent.           "What are you saying Tien?"  Hansen asked trying to cut through what he knew could be seven minutes of technobable.           "I have noticed a 2.21 gamma energy spike in their door articulators." Tien began.      "What do their doors have to do with anything?" Faulkner was annoyed.           "What about the doors?" Hansen seemed interested.           "Well that is the same range as Romulan ore processors use in their pneumatic micro pumps."           "Standard English son."           "I have worked at several mining sites with my parents, Romulan technology is very distinct. The Borg have integrated Romulan micro pumps to open and close their doors."           "That could be a coincidence." Faulkner pointed out.           "Maybe, but the signature is identical.  They have absorbed that technology and probably have done it with in the last few years; they only recently developed the 2.21 range pumps." Tien explained, but was unsure why his shipmates weren't following along.           "What's your point ensign." Hansen was sharp.           Dan could tell that the captain didn't want the technical details, "The Borg have had a longer time to assimilate Federation technology, but they haven't. Why?"           There was no answer, and Dan continued, "Because they can't talk to our equipment.  The micro pumps are simple machines, though incredibly innovative.  They just require a gamma source to function, but most Federation technology is based on subspace transceiver and integrated multi-tronic mother-boards.  There is nothing in these scans that show the Borg as having anything similar to that.   They don't know how to talk our language.  They haven't assimilated something to transition our technology to their current established tech."           "If what your saying is true, how can we use that to our advantage?" Kirk was quick to understand.           "I don't know." Tien admitted.           "Three minutes to intercept with hostile vessel." Commander Leeds announced            "War       "War of the worlds!" Faulkner shouted.           The Bridge crew looked at him and waited for an explanation.           "It was a radio broadcast in the late 19th century."           "Radio wasn't invented until 1940." Kirk corrected.           "Whatever, the story had an invading force killed by a virus.  Stuff that humans were already immunized against." Faulkner spoke with an excited tone. Like a child that knew he was the only one with the right answer.           "A computer virus that can affect broad based systems, but wont affect ours." Hansen muddled it in his mind.      "The Borg are decentralized, they might be able to contain it," Leeds warned.      "We might be able to tap into their power distribution nodes with a subspace signal, they have no protection from that." Tien smiled.           "Two minutes till intercept." Leeds called again.           "Alright people- Leeds find a virus that will work against them but is useless against Federation technology, Tien see if you can find away to deliver it to the cube uniformly." "Sir, the Iconian translatory program." Tien suggested.           Hansen paused.  He knew that Dan was the son of two very famous explorers, and he knew that they had done work on the ancient Iconians, a near mythical species that filled the imaginations with wonder. That is mythical until a Federation Starship recently found a functioning Iconian computer.  The advanced device was programmed to upgrade computer systems as it went along, but had never seen a Federation ship before.  It created billions of errors in its attempt to modify the ship's software.  The U.S.S. Yamato had been destroyed because it uploaded this virus.  Starfleet was leery of this strange computer plague. Unable to control it, they had deleted any known source or copy and banned it.  But it seemed that young ensign Tien might have had access to it from outside of Starfleet.            "I would advise against that sir," Kirk warned, "Not all Federation ships are upgraded to resist the virus."           "I agree. Let's keep that on the backburner.  Everybody look sharp here they come..."            Five The Borg           "We are the Borg, lower your shields and surrender your ships. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own.  You will be assimilated; resistance is futile." Spoke the billion voices of the dark collective led by a single mind.  Led by one of the Federation's finest, Jean Luc Picard.           The Cube shaped ship was five kilometers square on each facing side and was like a small city that had dropped out of warp.  Its subspace wake washed against the first line formation and the starships lurched in the waters, but where quick to respond.      The Federation ships moved and lanced out with highly tuned and adapted phasers and torpedoes.  The great cube swatted at the gnats and cutting through the front line in less than ten seconds.  It proceeded forward breaking the second line just as easy.       Admiral Hansen ordered all ships to create a subspace wake with their warp drives, stirring up the waters to prevent the cube from escape.  It was a good strategy, but left only one option for the dark juggernaut.            The Federation had lost three ships with in the first twenty seconds of the conflict, and nearly 1500 lives thrown into the black oblivion, but they were now one up on the cube.   They had effectively trapped it and were now swarming at the leviathan.       The great cube pushed forward and rammed two more ships, with no consequence to itself, ending another thousand lives callously.  Billions of joules of energy poured onto the monster but its strange metal skin was not touched.  Phasers, photon torpedoes, and even anti-matter detonations thundered onto the great beast, but nothing could seem to touch the dark black metal flesh.           The Kushyu, a powerful ship, moved to deploy a special torpedo. Her weapon bays were hit with a single swipe of the dark cube's cutting beams and imploded her hull.  The ship split in two: its upper portion spinning wildly into the cube, and its lower part tumbling away severely damaged by one of the Borgs' slight attack.  It ejected its warp core and in an uncontrolled moment the great gem, the heart that sits within all starships, exploded with all the rapture of a god.  Billions of rads swam out and several Federations starships were wounded by the blast.  The cube paused as if to take a breath, but then moved forward again.       The Yorktown, an Excelsior class vessel, had come up with a multi-band torpedo and moved in, to fire at the cube.  As it attacked with its modified photon barrage, the cube reached out with a green glowing net and grabbed the mighty vessel.  It didn't fire at the ship, it didn't hurl it or rend it nacelle from nacelle. It simply drained its shields, beamed off the crew and sent the ship adrift. Seven hundred men and women were lost.           Four minutes had passed and only 19 ships were left. The Saratoga ran in with two other ships, but they were repelled like nothing more than a small annoyance.  The casualties were now in the tens of thousands and the fleet wasn't doing well.           "Tien, have you been able to deliver a virus?" Hansen commanded.           "No sir, I have tried nearly twenty-eight different modulations, I think it might take more time."           "Kirk, any damage to the cube?"           "No damage sir, and we are down to eleven torpedoes," Kirks voice was tense and she didn't think that there was a way to win.           "Cease fire." Hansen said flatly. "This isn't going to work.  Kirk, target a spread of five torpedoes between us and the cube.  Faulkner, I want you to bring us in and under that thing.  Try to keep ground zero of the warp core detonation between us and it, that might screen their sensors."           Hansen stepped from his chair and walked back to the tactical station. He glanced at Kirk with a confident smile; "We are gonna to go in and grab as many of the survivors as we can."           Kirk didn't agree with the action, "Sir, we have to stop that cube first."           Mr. Leeds looked up as Kirk spoke.           Hansen began to coordinate the shields and the transporters, "Well, if we survive you might eventually be a first officer and then you can question the captains orders. Until then, ready the spread." He was kind with his words.      Kinder, Kirk thought than she would have been.      "Mr. Leeds, help Dan create some chaff with our Impulse exhaust," Hansen commanded in such away that it seemed nothing more than a suggestion to aid a friend.           Leeds was a Centaruan, similar to humans with some minor internal differences.  He was a pacifist by nature, but had not paused to order the Agincourt to fire.  There was something about the Borg that drove to the heart of the humanoid psyche.  They were a perversion of life, the undead, and by all that was right and holy they had to be stopped.      "Mr. Faulkner, go!" said the Captain as he began the operation.           Adam Faulkner focused and intently initiated the impulse drives.   He could feel the loss of power from them as Tien and Leeds readjusted the exhaust to create a radioactive cloud to confuse the Borg.  He compensated and arched the ship below the belly of the beast.  A slight smile betrayed the situation as he deftly slipped though fire and debris to run his ship within transporter range.            In the wake of the leviathan a debris field swam. Trapped in severed corridors and conduits thousands of officers huddled, praying for a rescue.  Unknown to the survivors, the Agincourt was on the way.            Standard transporters have an effective range of over 40,000 kilometers; more so if you have a good transporter technician at the pad.  But the same effect that kept the cube at bay also dropped transporter range to point blank.  With only a few thousand meters of reach, the Agincourt was forced to fly into the fire and sweep away her fallen comrades.           Kirk and Hansen began to beam the survivors of the drifting ships aboard.  Kirk collapsed micro portions of the shields, so that Hansen could coordinate the transporter rooms. The plan was working well and in only one minute of maneuvering they beamed aboard one hundred and twenty survivors.  Then there was a horrible shudder and the ship rocked as if it had been hit by a giant fist.            Hansen fell to the ground, Kirk wanted to help him, but her panel lit up with multiple shield breaches and she chose instead to keep the shields together.           "Report!" Hansen shouted and pulled himself up.  A cold shudder ran through him for he already knew the answer.           "The Borg are draining our shields with a tractor beam.   Helm is sluggish," Faulkner shouted as the ships began to vibrate unnaturally.           "Rotate us one hundred and eighty degrees starboard-" Leeds never finished his command.  Debris from a destroyed craft began to pelt the Agincourt. A large part of the Melbourne's secondary hull bashed into the shields, collapsing them and digging into the superstructure.  The ship shuddered under the conflicting pull of the Borg tractor beam and the unstoppable impact of the debris. The bridge was lit with a series of explosions from both inside and outside the ship.  Wiring fell from the ceiling and conduits ruptured with uncontrolled surges of energy.  The Ops panel exploded into a shower of fire as super heated plasma.  The panel was broken in half and threw Leeds and Tien back.  The two men lay slumped on the floor of the bridge, making no movements and surrounded by smoldering bits of plastic and metal.           Faulkner wanted to help his friends, but the ship was being pulled off course by the Borg tractor beam.  He overloaded the port reaction control thrusters and changed the yaw of the ship while there was still some shields left. The Agincourt was now facing the leviathan with its belly up.           "Kirk, initiate an emergency saucer separation before -"The bridge again exploded, all were thrust forward, and before Hansen could finish his order it was too late. The Agincourt was being tractored by the most powerful force in the known galaxy.                     "Damn it." Hansen swore under his breath.  He looked on to the view screen its entirety filled with the black steel skin of the giant Borg cube.  His gaze then drifted down through the red lit smoke.  He saw sprawled on the deck of the bridge his first officer and Dan Tien.           "Alright, let's get to the escape pods.  Divert all power to transporters, for those who can beam to the nearest surviving ships." He turned to the console and spoke.  His words echoed across the sinking vessel, "All hands abandon ship...repeat all hands abandon ship."           Faulkner locked the controls to ram the cube.  Should the Agincourt free herself from the tractor beam she would run full throttle into the enemy vessel.  He then jumped to the two fallen men.  Leeds was dead, but Tien had only been knocked out and was already coming to. Adam helped him to his feet and the two began to hobble to safety.           Hansen and Kirk turned to the nearest turbo lift. They could drop down to deck three and leave the ship via the escape pods.  They didn't know if they would be able to escape the tractor beam, but they were limited on options.  As they moved towards the  turbo-shaft, a green wavering glow interceded their path and Kirk was face to face with the Borg itself. Six The Great Escape           Kirk lashed out with a series of strikes to the metal flesh monster: fist, elbow, fist. At its base form the creature was human and she knew the strikes should have fractured its skull.  But the flesh was married to steel and the creature was not even paused.  The Borg snapped out its right arm in reply to the attack and sent Kirk tumbling over the bridge railing.           Hansen drew out his phaser but the Borg as quickly reached out and grabbed his throat. Hansen struggled for a moment then fell to the ground as the machine man released him.  The monster turned to the next crewman, an engineer who had been on the bridge trying to lock down a reactor leak. The crewman lunged at the beast, but for all the force that the young man could muster the machine thing simply stood its ground, immovable, and unstoppable.  The man stepped back, but not quickly enough. The creature snatched him by the throat.  He was about to fall at the hands of the borg, but Faulkner would not have it.      From the helmsman's phaser fiery energy lanced out across the bridge, but nothing happened to the Borg.  The undead machine dropped the young man and marched past him.  The engineer, like the captain had fallen to the ground gasping for air and struggling to stay alive.  His skin began to pale and it seemed as if death was taking him.           Kirk pulled herself to her feet, shaking off the impact and the fall, then pulled out her phaser and began to fire. Twin beams of fury, from her and Faulkner, lazed into the creatures' chest, enough power to explode nearly a ton of rock, and yet the blasts just washed over it as if they were made of nothing more than brightly colored streams of water.           "Let's get the wounded and go!" Kirk shouted as she crossed to the opposite side of the bridge.  There was no way to win this here and now. It was best to get as many out as she could. She took only a moment to taste the irony and understood now what Hansen was trying to do earlier.  There was still a lot she had to learn about being a captain.           The monster walked over to Leeds, kneeled down and grabbed his neck. Then stood and began to walk to the back of the bridge where Kirk, Faulkner, Tien, and the wounded were loading into a turbo lift.           Tien helped the young engineer into the turbo lift.  Once freed of his cargo he turned to Faulkner and shouted, "Keep it distracted, I think I can stop it."           Faulkner placed a wounded officer with the others and watched as Tien jumped back onto the bridge.   Tien shot past the Borg headed towards the science station on the starboard side of the bridge.  He had an idea and if it worked it was worth his life. The Borg turned away from the survivors and moved methodically towards Tien.      Kirk shouted for him to retreat but moved into support him realizing that Tien wasn't paying attention.  Tien was lost in the moment and it would take more than words to gain his attention.       Faulkner locked out the door controls.  He heard the turbo lift swoosh away and let rest of the bridge personnel leave his mind. He then moved toward the intruder in the center of the bridge.  The Borg was quick, but wasn't agile.  It walked as if it were forced to, each motion fierce and intense, yet awkward and clumsy.  What could be seen of its face was pale, like death, and the smell of something rotted and lost rose up from it.  It had been alive at one time, but now stood on the edge of the mortal coil, drifting close to, but never peering into the undiscovered country.           Tien landed at the science panel, cleared a way the rubble, and began to enter in the viral sequence. Kirk was still shouting for him to pull back but motioned to Faulkner to come around the machine-monster.  She maneuvered within arms reach of the thing and it turned toward her.  She leapt back with lightning speed and rolled over the rail to the tactical station. The creature looked confused for a minute, then stomped around the rail to follow Kirk.  It couldn't seem to see a way to navigate over the rail, and Kirk saw this as a weakness.  Adam then jumped in close to the beast, and it snapped and began to pursue him.  Suddenly this fearsome monster seemed somewhat less intimidating. The raging hell sent beast coddled down to nothing more than a mere puppet.           The two began to pickle the monster, dropping in and out of its range-one closer than the other then back, again.  The Borg's weakness was exploited.  This drone was programmed to move towards the nearest person no matter what.  It didn't use common sense or individual decision making power; it did what it was programmed to do. Had it not been so dangerous, the situation would have seemed comical.           Tien launched the back up program on the panel and rerouted the programming.   He focused the ship's subspace transceiver assembly on to the bridge and launched the last virus that he had.  The power distribution nodes on the cube were to well shielded to tap into the collective, but the processors on this drone were not. As Kirk had discovered, the drones were the weakest link in the collective, and Tien was going to make surethat they exploited it.       There was a shudder as the local space began to ebb at the mighty transmission.  The Borg drone continued to flutter between the two Starfleet officers, and Kirk thought for a moment that she could keep this up indefinitely.       It was done. The Iconian Virus had been transmitted to the small drone.  Soon its mechanical components would malfunction, and if Tien guessed right, the entire Borg collective would fall.  The Iconian virus would rend the great collective apart just as it had done to the USS Yamato, and just as it had done to his parents' ship.           Several green flickers appeared on the bridge.  The Borg had adapted. A dozen more drones transported in.  They were surrounding the three officers and it was painfully obvious that it was over. There was no place to run and no way to get through them.  Tien moved away from the science console towards the center of the room.  The Borg stood for a moment, still and quiet in the smoke-filled bridge.  Then in unison the came to life. They marched through the dimly lit world without pause or question.     Tien drew his phaser, then he felt something at his ankle.  Leeds was struggling up.  Tien pulled him to his feet, but something was horribly wrong with Leeds.  His face was wet, and black lines traced under his skin. When Leeds was on his feet he grasped at Tien and tried to hold him.           Faulkner and Kirk were back-to-back; phasers set to overload. They might die, but they were going to take some of these bastards with them.            The Borg began to close in on Tien as Leeds held him in a grip of steel.  Kirk and Faulkner were seconds away from annihilation, the choking air and the wall of undead slowly asphyxiating any hope of survival. The sound of the phasers began to rise as energy rebounded and built up in the pre-fire chambers.  Once initiated the subtle, fine weapons would become bombs that could rend the bridge from the hull.       Then every thing changed.           The green light of the tractor link faded from the main view-screen, the Borg stopped what they were doing and then looked up toward the cube.  They seemed as if they were listening to something like a whisper far away.  Even Leeds let go of Tien.           "What's happening?" Faulkner stood wide-eyed and ready to die.  The power building in his phaser was growing closer to detonation with every second.           "Tien lets go!" Kirk tuned down her phaser and shot Leeds.  Tien ran across the bridge but no Borg moved to stop him.              "My phaser is going to overload, I can't stop it!" Faulkner warned as he struggled with the device. The distinct high-pitched whine that came from the emitter crystal as it rebounded energy onto itself pierced their ears. They didn't have much time left.           Kirk turned her phaser to the doors and blew up the locking mechanism and the hydraulic systems.  She then pulled with all her might and forced the doors open enough to squeeze through.  The shaft was empty and not well lit.  She turned to Faulkner who tossed his weapon into the center of the bridge.  Kirk knew the Turbo shafts had no gravity but it made it no less dramatic as she dived into the darkened maw. Not missing a beat Tien and Faulkner jumped in right behind her.           The trio slowly dropped three decks and then felt the explosion of the phaser on the bridge. There was a blast of air and they began to rise again. Kirk grabbed the access ladder and Tien grabbed her foot.  Faulkner fell back and reached to grab Tien's leg but missed. The rush of air increased and they knew that the bulkhead had collapsed.  The ship had force-fields that would seal off such breaches, but nothing had yet come to intercede.  Adam watched Tien fade in the darkness and he knew that if he couldn't grab something soon he would die. The air was rushing in his ears and his breath was growing short.  Adam braced to hit the doors that led to the bridge.  The fear of death by vacuum thick on his mind, and he prayed that when he hit he would have enough strength to keep himself from being torn into space.           Kirk pulled with all her might.  Her fingers wet with perspiration and she was slipping off the cold steel ladder. They were in zero G, but the air was pulling at them mercilessly.  The entire volume of the turbo shafts ran past them like an onslaught hurricane funneled through a ten by ten tube.  If she were alone she could do it, but with Tien holding on she would soon slip.  Gritting her teeth and focusing with all her mind she pulled in against the blasting wind and locked her arm in the rungs. Her arm would rip from her socket before she would let go.            Then the blasting air stilled as the structural integrity fields formed electric scabs over the wounds of the Agincourt. Adam quickly climbed down the dark shaft towards his friends.  They rallied their strength, pried open the doors to deck three, and collapsed on the cold steel floors. Only a scant red flickering light colored their skins, as the acrid air of the deck vented slowly past them and into the now quiet shaft.           "Can't breath..."Tien grasped as he put his face to the cool steel.           "You'll be fine. There is...plenty of air.  Keep low." Kirk said in short concise bursts.       Less than ten minutes had passed since they had engaged the Borg and Kirk had no idea how much longer it would last.  Her mind raced with thoughts of Leeds, Hansen, and the fate of the Earth.  Things were happening too fast for her to take them in.  She needed a plan of action and she needed to save her crew.  No less than a miracle would work.           "Dammit!" Faulkner exclaimed, "I locked the controls onto the cube.  We're gonna ram it."           "We would have already hit it by now." Kirk said as she looked up and scanned down the corridor.  She wiped the sweat from her face and pulled herself up in the darkness. The ship rumbled and she held the wall to maintain her footing.  Photon wake;  at least they were still fighting out there.            "She's right." Tien confirmed as the lights on the deck began to flicker back to life.            A single central corridor dominated deck three. It had lateral junctions, an armory and several offices.  It also had the escape pods.       "I want you two to see if there are any escape pods left.  I'm going to check this deck for survivors." Kirk didn't want to tell them what she really had planed; that she was about to give the Borg one last punch in the nose.      Kirk motioned them to ready an escape pod while she ran to her office.  She rounded the corner and there was one of the Borg. It was still poised as if something were whispering into its metal-flesh ear.   It was between her and where she wanted to be.           She held her breath and quickly slid past it. Like its brothers on the bridge, it seemed locked in a fugue state. As she rushed by it she could smell oil and rotted flesh.  It was nauseating, but she steeled herself and moved on.       As she entered her office she looked at the Lurpa in the corner. It was a gift from the Ambassador himself. A flicker of a smile flashed across her beaten brow at the thought of Ambassador Spock handing her such a gift.  She immediately refocused on her desk computer and began to pull up pertinent files.           "Computer, auto destruct sequence.   Kirk Amanda T.; gamma, one, seven, zero"           The screen made no sounds but asked for the verification.           "Kirk to Faulkner, I can't get back to you. Launch now."           "We aren't leaving you Lieutenant!" Tien's voice came across from her comm. badge.           "I'll take a different pod- go now. That's an order."           She looked at the screen waiting to commit herself to this effort.  Faulkner had launched them at the Borg, and the tractor had let go. If the cube stopped then the ship would continue to drift toward it.  When the Kyushu blew her warp core it paused the beast. At the least the Agincourt would pause it again, if not destroy the thing completely.           "Computer, zero, zero, destruct-" But she was interrupted before she could enter in the final sequence.  The doors to her office swished open and her phaser was drawn and aimed before they were fully parted.  But she did not fire.           "Amanda!" Chartreuse screamed out, her slicked back blue hair; now shuffled and dull. Next to her was an Andorian woman that Kirk hadn't seen before.  They both had rifles and they were aimed at Kirk.           "Kirk, Lieutenant Commander." She said to the Andorian.           "Bova, Doctor Bova." She stepped aside to reveal two other humans also wearing medical uniforms, "This is Green and Craig."           We were heading towards the bridge when these things started grabbing people." Chartreuse explained, still not lowering the weapon.           "Did you let them touch you?" Bova still held a phaser rifle at Kirk.            Green pulled out a tricorder and began to scan Kirk, "Minor infection, surface only.  We can amputate."           Green was a young woman of fair complexion, emerald eyes and a distinct  gem on her brow indicative of her Hindu background.           "Whoa, hold on there. I'm one of the good guys.  Ivey?"           "She'll be fine if we can get her to a medical facility." Bova spoke to Chartreuse as if Kirk were not present.           "They have micro mechanical assimilators that convert the blood and body tissue making you one of them." Chartreuse explained.           Kirk looked at her hand, the one she had struck the alien with. It was irritated and itched, the skin growing pale around the knuckles.           "Faulkner to Kirk.  We got a problem."           Chartreuse eyes lit as she whispered her lovers' name.           "Report" Kirk said as Bova and the others lowered their phasers.           "The escape pods can't launch, " Faulkner's voice was low and edgy.           "Why not?"           Then there came a deep groaning as if something large had begun to push on the hull. The ship shuddered and Kirk knew that tractor had been re-engaged.  She grabbed a tricorder from her desk and motioned Green for her his rifle.  There was a moment of hesitation, and but the young nurse gave it up.           Paula Green had only three years in Starfleet medical.  She had joined because her family had, in one way or another, been apart of Starfleet since its inception.  She didn't want to face the frontier, nor fight in boarder skirmishes.  She wanted to be a nurse, helping and caring for the hurt and injured.            "Zero, zero, destruct; one," Kirk said adamantly to the waiting computer. She thought about it for a moment. How much time would she have before the cube could re-enter warp. "Eight minute silent count down."           "What the-!" Jubae pushed towards Kirk, "You just killed us all!"           "Doctor your more than welcome to stay," Kirk pushed her aside, "But I'm leaving." And then she briskly walked out into the corridor.      The machine man was still in the corridor attentively listening to the silence, but Kirk suspected that wouldn't last long.  She ran past it without pause and then nodded for the others to come. Knowing it probably was shielded against her weapon, Kirk focused her phaser on the floor beneath the drone.  If it moved she would blast the floor away.  It wouldn't kill the drone, but would slow it down long enough for them to get by.  Bova, Chartreuse, and the two medical techs quickly ran past the drone.       They re-grouped at the escape pod hatch where they could see what Kirk had planned. The escape pods small viewer showed that the ship was being pulled closer to the Cube.           "I guess they want a closer look." Kirk said. Her communicator beeped and she instinctively tapped at it, "Kirk here."           "We are the Borg...." the voice began. She looked down at her chest and pulled the commbadge off.  Then the others began to chirp and announce the Borg mantra.... "You will be assimilated."           "Resistance is futile," sounded through the corridors.           "Your life as you have known it is over, from this point forward you will service us." Every piece of equipment that could relay sound spoke the horrible chant repeating it endlessly.      The Comm panels lit up and the LCAR's display fluttered and faded. The familiar interface replaced by strange ganglia-like glyphs.  The transmission began to play on the corridor panels and a familiar face appeared.  It was Captain Picard of the Starship Enterprise.  He had been assimilated by the Borg, and was chanting the undead mantra.           "Jesus, is that Captain Picard?" Green gasped.  Green was a cadet at the academy the year that the Enterprise had launched.  She had the pleasure of hearing Picard speak at a ceremony. His smooth voice was now lifeless and cold.  She had thought that he was the indomitable Captain, and if he couldn't stop these things, then no one could.           "Is that what's going to happen to Leeds?" Faulkner spoke gravely.           "We're not gonna make it are we," Bova's voice was lost and empty.           The drone, as if on cue turned towards the group and began to walk.           Kirk swallowed deeply and gritted her teeth. It was time for a miracle, only none were coming.                                          Next time on Star Trek the Virtual series.... Kirk must find a way off the Agincourt, but the Borg brood are everywhere. Can they survive and if so how?  Read the next exciting adventure of Star Trek the Virtual Series in thirty days.  Same website, same webspot!                                                                        Credits. Written and Illustrated by                                   Justin Lindsey Allman Edited and Proofread by                                        Jacob Hensel Produced and developed by                               Justin Lindsey Allman                                                                                        Jacob Hensel Like what you saw? Wanna know more about Kirk, Tien, or Faulkner? Looking to break into writing? We need great artists and writers to help develop the series.  Send us a query letter. Write us at Starfleet63@aol.com and lets us know what you thought. HOME