SHE WHO DARES WINS.

Chapter One

By A.P Stacey

"Direct hit, shields down to thirty percent, hull breaches on decks four eight and nine." The women sitting at the helm announced through gritted teeth.

"Eight more Jem Hadar Vessels are closing on our position, time to intercept forty seconds."

"Return fire, give them everything you've got!" The tall man sitting at the captain's chair ordered.

"Returning fire, One Jem Hadar vessel has been destroyed, tactical reports the aft torpedo launcher has reached thermal limit and must be taken offline."

The tall Starfleet human stepped up from the command chair.

"Negative, I need everything, keep the launcher online, evasive maneuver delta three, fire all phasers and deploy quantum torpedoes."

"Aye sir, moving into range of enemy vessels."

No sooner had the orders been followed than the bridge of the ship rocketed under enormous impact, metal tore and sheared as it was vaporized explosively.

"Direct hit, our shields are gone, hull breaches on decks three, six, seven, eight, nine fourteen, eighteen and twenty!"

"Continue Firing! Maintain heading! For the federation and freedom."

The Captain stood, knowing evacuating the ship would leave them to be picked off like ants in their escape pods...no this was the only way.

With a final barrage the U.S.S Thunderchild veered to starboard as one of her nacelle's imploded in a flurry of photoplasmic energy, seconds later the damage proved too much for the structural integrity, which failed breaking the saucer of the ship in two, each half continuing to journey together before colliding and exploding. With no containment the warp core housed in the catamaran pod detonated, a massive tidal wave engulfing the floating chunks of debris and vaporizing them.

"We've lost the Thunderchild, The Exeter, the Adelphi, the Fearless, the Berlin. The list goes on, if we continue to lose ships at this rate we are will be unable to hold the sector within a year."

Admiral Wills paced back and fore, this was the worst news he could have received, after a supposed peace the dominion had launched yet another offensive, a massive armada of jem Hadar having broken through the defense grid at Horitika Station and destroyed everything. Fourteen federation starhsips had been lost with all hands in that initial attack alone. With the dominion pressing all of their remaining forces in one area they were gaining three systems a day. Starfleet knew that the dominion did not have enough forces to pose enough of a threat for a take over, but much damage could be done if they were allowed to remain unchecked. He needed good news; something to mobilize his spirit, the beeping of a federation subspace call broke his thoughts.

"Computer begins transmission."

The face of a bloody commander appeared, Wills did not know his name, and the mans features were so badly cut he doubted he would ever know, in the background explosions lit the dark bridge the commander sat on.

"Admiral, this is an emergency transmission, I am Commander Galser, Acting captain of the U.S.S Nautilus, we are under attack, we require assistance." the transmission began to gain static.

The old Admiral sighed.

"How many Jem Hadar vessels?" The admiral pulled up a report of the Nautilus and her current position. "Why is the Dominion attacking such a remote sector?"

The reply was garbled....

"N------No sir----------The Borg." the transmission ended.

"Computer get me Starfleet command." The old admiral's heart skipped a beat.

They had returned at the worst possible time.

B’elanna slowly but surely made her way through Jeffries tube fourteen beta, coughing every so often as the dusty air irritated the linings of her lungs. She stopped occasionally, double-checking the echoes that she could hear were not anything other than her imagination.

The half Klingon hated deck fifteen, she really did. The lowest deck on Voyager was constantly powered down, not even artificial gravity was routinely active. Seven years of dust floated around B'elanna, excited into a frenzied state by a presence. She stopped in front of a dull grey access door and shone her wrist beam at its identification plate.

Deck Fifteen Section twenty-three: Antimatter Containment.

The fiery women reached up and punched the door controls.

Nothing.

She punched them again and was not equally greeted by an answer; sighing loudly she pulled out a magnetic clamp and affixed it to the stubborn door, pulling the barricade open and continuing through.

She swung her legs around and stood to her full height, glancing around she shivered slightly, the temperature low and humidity even lower. B'elanna glanced up, from the solid Starfleet grey tanks housing the Antimatter her gaze traveled up as she watched it piped to the warp core. She was only in this god-forsaken hole because of a fault with one of the Antimatter regulators; the job would have taken minutes. If the computer had access to deck fifteen. Many alien attacks had taken their toll on a section of the ship that was rarely ever visited, and now several important computer junctions had been totally destroyed, and lacking the resources were left that way. She had no computer access, no communication.

She began the repair, eager to leave as soon as possible.

"You are sure of this admiral?" The woman looked both pale and weary.

"No doubt Joanne, The Nautilus was found adrift this morning, she had been crippled, her weapons were burned out from overuse, each shield emitter was fried to nothing, whole sections of the hull were missing, the warp core was gone, she was completely disabled, no sign of her crew. Electromagnetic analysis was conclusive, the Nautilus took a sustained volley of weaponry baring a Borg signature."

"Damnit not now anytime but now!" The women banged her fist down hard on the table, and turned to her colleague.

"David, we can't take it, we've lost seventy percent of the fleet, over eight thousand ships, we are still fighting the Dominion, one cube and we are finished, completely finished."

"We need to convene an emergency meeting of the council." Willis said starkly.

"Yes, I'll organize it immediately, meanwhile, all outposts are to step up to red alert, begin pulling all Galaxy and Defiant Starships back from the frontline, We may have to abandon several sectors to the dominion. And have the Enterprise report to sector zero zero one. We may need our Borg expert once again."

As Willis left to convey the fleet change Admiral Jean Lopez Turned and looked out of her starbase office window, she watched as the hulk of the U.S.S Yamaguchi docked with her station, the ambassador class Starship looked as though it had visited hell and returned at maximum warp, deep trenches scored her engineering hull, massive gaping holes pockmarked her saucer, her starboard nacelle was but half the length of its partner, a faint glow of plasma illuminating one end. With a dull clunk the wounded lion docked.

Jean wondered how much more the old lion, and indeed the rest of the pack could take.

"Regeneration cycle incomplete."

Seven disengaged from the alcove with a dull click and stepped down on to the dais.

She raised her occular implant. "Computer state the cause of the interruption to regeneration cycle for Alcove Alpha?"

"Please restate question." the computer responded.

Seven grew impatient.

"Computer why was my regeneration sequence interrupted?"

"Unable to comply."

The main computer was obviously malfunctioning; seven strode to the door of the cargo bay only to find the doors to the bay stubbornly locked.

"Seven of nine to Lieutenant Torres."

"Torres here." the reply seemed tense and weary.

"My regeneration cycle has ended prematurely, the main computer refuses to explain and has locked the doors to the cargo bay."

A string of insults spewed from the commlink. Not all of which were aimed at the malfunctioning computer.

"I'll be there as soon as I can Torres out."

Seven returned to the Alcoves and attempted to utilize her console to study the sensor readings currently being gathered by the astrometrics subsystems.

Seven was less than amused when the computer instead played "Oh Cristmas Tree" in perfect ancient Bolian. Seven corrected herself, ancient Bolian at dangerously high sonic levels.

She decided on this occasion to take a seat, lowering herself to the floor and awaiting the arrival of her unlikely savior.

Seven hummed along to the cheery tune the computer was replaying.

In perfect ancient Bolian.

Crewman Davies swiveled in his chair absent minded, occasionally responding to the alert the computer emitted from his helm station when it completed its chess move. He knew that strictly speaking playing chess with the computer while on duty wasn't exactly standard procedure but he was bored. He was stuck onboard the U.S.S Vienna, an ageing Oberth class Starship, mapping the Karela Expanse at the very border of Eastern Federation space, his ship was about as far from the Dominion front as it could possibly be. He wasn't in a rush to attend any battles but watching interstellar dust and playing chess with the computer didn't put his Starfleet training to much use.

"Pawn to King three, checkmate." If computers were capable of sounding smug here was proof.

"Bishop to pawn six." He smiled, that buys me some more time.

He reclined on his seat again, stretched, and headed to the replicator, ordering a hot mug of tea, two sugars not too sweet. At least it was predictable.

"Proximity alert bearing four nine four mark twelve. Vessel approaching four million kilometers starboard."

That was not a chess move he recognized.

Placing the mug down he returned to his station and accessed the sensors of the tiny science ship.

"Computer, identify vessel to our starboard side." Davies asked, his body tingling with excitement, even if it was some junked shuttle or large rock.

"Vessel identified, long range Borg Tactical Cube."

Davies froze as every part of his soul chilled.

"Computer, move us away, maximum impulse."

"Acknowledged, inititiating evasive course." replied the computer.

"Warning, Borg vessel powering weapons."

"Computer shields! Weapons!" Davies spat out. This was an Oberth class science ship; he did not stand a ghost of a chance.

"Shields up, weapons online, the Borg vessel is closing, one million kilometers, the Vessel is hailing. - Audio only."

"On speakers."

"We are the Borg, your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own, your vessel will adapt to service us, resistance...is futile."

"Is it hell!" replied Davies as he banked the tiny ship around, pushing her engines to the limit and preparing to jump to warp speed.

The whole ship jarred as a massive discharge shook it from keel to stern.

"Direct hit, all primary systems are offline."  As if to prove this the lights on the bridge flickered and died.

The ship fell silent as Davies slowly stood from his now useless helm station.

The Sudden high-pitched whine of a Borg Transporter beam filled the bridge.

"Checkmate." whispered Davies.

"Am I reading this right Chakotay?" Asked Janeway incredulously. Not pausing to allow her first officer to reply she paced once again around the briefing room table.

"I cannot believe I'd ever receive this kind of Order!" Her voice trembled.

"Captain, I'm sure it’s all in good reason." Chakotay chimed.

"Damnit Chakotay, they've ordered us to remain here in our current position for two months, not even willing to explain why, I’m the first one for following procedure and orders but what the hell is this about!"

Janeway had no idea where this anger had boiled from, at first her initial thought had been one of excitement, surely Starfleet had finally discovered a way back, a path home finally. She hadn't slept in three days until the EMH threatened to sedate her waiting for Starfleet and their answer, but the same god damn reply:

"Hold current position until further notice."

She didn't like it, and she guessed none of the crew would either.

"Positive Lock, bearing One nine nine four, there she is sir!" The Bolian turned to address the Vulcan sitting in the Captain's chair.

Captain Sorak nodded his head at his helmsmen's statement.

"Tactical, confirm, that is the U.S.S Vienna?" A clipped modulated tone asked.

The human women looked uncomfortable.

"What’s left of her Captain, I’m picking up debris consistent with a Starfleet Oberth Vessel, but the wreckage isn't even a tenth of the mass you would expect to find even against Borg weaponry."

"She has been assimilated." The captain corrected, more of a statement than a question.

"It appears that way sir, I am detecting an Ion trial, it is approximately forty one hours old, leading out past the federation Border.” the Bolian added.

"Yellow alert, all crew to necessary stations, Mr. Gedstar Set in a pursuit course, follow that Ion trail, advise Starfleet command, Borg sighting near the Karela expanse."

"Subspace message dispatched, Course plotted."

The slender Vulcan steeped his fingers, beginning his own inner thoughts on his mission.

"Engage."

The shield bubble of the U.S.S Galaxy flared momentarily as the remains of the Vienna's port nacelle collided head on, vaporizing almost instantly. With a high-pitched whine the Ship accelerated to faster than light. Leaving for a hunt.

A hunt it had to win.

Chapter 2

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