Captain’s Log, Stardate 51636.3. The Enterprise is safely in warp, barely averting destruction by the Borg. We are currently thinking of a way to destroy the Borg. However, we are running out of time. The Borg Cube cannot detect us, because we are cloaked, thanks to Chief Engineer LaForge’s quick thinking. I commend his actions in this matter, as well as that of Chief Medical Officer Crusher in her efforts to fight a virus that was spreading throughout the entire Federation. Due to her efforts, she found a cure to the disease, preventing massive failure onboard. We have just recently sent a coded formula for the antidote to Federation Headquarters. End of log entry.

Captain Picard had just gotten orders from Starfleet Headquarters to proceed to Sector 254 for cargo transfer. From there, they were to go to Pascal, a Klingon Planet, to aid in the decontamination of their water supply. “All stop,” Picard ordered in approach of Sector 254. He thought to himself, What a place to be with the Borg breathing down our throats! “There’s nothing here. No ship, no cargo container, no nothing!,” he exclaimed as the Enterprise slowed to a stop. Suddenly, a huge Borg Cube de-cloaked directly in front of Enterprise.

Commander Riker ordered, “Shields up! Red Alert!”

Just then, a booming voice was heard all over the Enterprise. “Do not be afraid!,” the voiced bellowed. “For it is I, Q. This Cube you see before you is an illusion. Come Picard, let us talk.” With that, Picard disappeared, along with Riker, Data, and LaForge.

Picard found himself, along with most of his bridge crew, inside a place that had became all too familiar to him within the past five years: a Borg Cube. Suddenly, he heard movement in the charging cell beside him. The protective covering peeled away, revealing the reason for the Borg discovery in the first place: Q. “Greetings, Mon Capitan. I have come on behalf of the Q, to form an alliance between our respective governing bodies.”

Geordi leaned towards Data, “Where have we heard that before?, “ he asked, jokingly.

Q answered his question, “From the Borg, my sightless friend. However, the Q feel sorry for their ‘misbehavior’ in allowing you to meet the Borg before you were ready for them. So, because of our error, we are willing to help you stop the Borg by fooling them. We have a plan that you are sure to like.”

Picard said, “What sort of plan?”

Q opened his mouth, but quickly shut it. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

The Borg Queen, along side her King, was ordering maximum warp to Earth, when another Cube contacted her, saying that they would help in her conquering of Earth. She silently ordered, Wait until this Cube gets here. Then we’ll attack by force.

The Enterprise, along with Picard, his crew, and Q, were enroute to Earth, when they received word that Admiral Cannon’s body was adrift just ahead. The Enterprise pulled back out of warp, and came alongside the drifting body. “Initiate transport to Morgue Bay,” Picard grimly said. He didn’t like body retrievals like this, especially those that were the lesser thing on his mind. He had to stop the Borg. Although he had tried twice before, that had only stalled them. Now was the final confrontation. It was make or break for the Federation. Picard then ordered continuation on course. Also asked by him was the ETA to Earth. Hearing that it would be hours, he turned his head to Commander Riker, “I’ll be in my quarters, Number One. You have the bridge.” With that, and Q in tow, he set out for his living space, sleep on his mind.

Q, although he had not slept in nearly a century, was as peppy as a two-year-old who had just eaten a bowl of sugar. He said to the tired Picard, “Captain, why is it that all humans tend to tire after such easy tasks?”

Picard answered, “Well, because we are not quite as developed as the Q.”

Q responded, “Nope, wrong. It’s because your bodies are far less developed than that of mine.”

Picard snapped, “If you knew the answer to the question, why did you ask it?”

Q replied, “To see if you knew.”

Picard sneered and laid down. “What is this plan of yours, Q?”

Q answered, “When the Borg attack Earth, we’ll get your entire fleet against them, as before. But this time, we’ll bring in some “illusion ships”, ones that will match your ships’ firepower perfectly, and be exactly the same as your ships’, except for the lifesigns, and the lettering. It will be the same as having another fleet join you suddenly. Oh, we’ll put false warp signatures from different worlds, to ensure the Borg suspect nothing, and even as we speak, the ships’ tracking frequencies are signaling from those worlds. My dear Captain, this plan cannot fail.”

Picard nodded his head, “Could you leave now, I need some rest.”

“Very well,” Q answered, and walked out the door, to go pester someone else.

Onboard the Borg Cube, the Borg Queen anxiously paced the floor of her hive. She could hardly contain her excitement. After all, you would be excited, too, if your worst enemy is about to be crushed, right? Her mate, the King, approached her, and said mentally, Hello, my love. What is bothering you so? Ah, the Federation. They may have foiled our other plans, but they didn’t have you or me to deal with. There is really nothing to worry about, love. Once we have the Federation and their space, their neighboring cultures will be a piece of Tholian cake.

She un-tensed a little, and answered, I suppose you’re right. We really have them this time, and they will not stop us! She laughed an evil laugh, the kind that sends chills up and down your spine.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the quadrant, the Federation ship Bozeman II was patrolling the Romulan border, searching for a missing freighter. Her captain, Morgan Bateson, paced the bridge as if he should be elsewhere. Trillions of miles of space in this quadrant, and Starfleet puts me in the least active section of it!, he thought anxiously, wanting to fight something, anything. He had been on this “patrol”, as the Federation called it, although it was more like a Sunday drive, for almost three years.

Seven years ago, Morgan Bateson, along with his crew and his ship, were transported through time from the year 2278, to the present, which was then 2368. He glanced at his Comm Officer, Wizz Dayton, then to his First Officer, Gabriel Bush. Looking closer at his First Officer, he noticed he was talking to an ensign.

Listening in, he heard, “So, there she was, the Enterprise E, overrun by Klingon boarding parties, and damaged severely.” Captain Bateson smiled, remembering this particular story. Gabe Bush continued, “Then, all of a sudden, here I came in an old, beat up Klingon cruiser. I hailed the Enterprise and said, ‘This is First Officer Gabriel Bush flying the imperial warship Klacha macha pucka yucka-yourmother’samoose or something. Anybody know how to make this lobster pot go out of battle mode?” Before he could finish, the ensign, along with Captain Bateson, even though he had heard this story many a time before, burst out laughing. It was either Bush’s strong English accent, or how he told it, but every time anyone heard that story, they broke out laughing. Suddenly, their attention was turned toward the view screen as the Bridge shifted to red running lights.

Bateson ordered, “I want answers. Why are we at Red Alert?”

Michael Dennis, at the Science Station, replied, “We have an unknown vessel, heading our way with shields up and weapons active. Looks at least ten times our size.” The crew froze with that information. A destroyer such as the Bozeman is no small thing, about the size of an Excelsior-class, and her crew was a bit surprised at this invader. After all, this area of space hadn’t seen any trouble in over fifty years. Lieutenant Dennis continued, “They’re within weapons range, and are preparing to fire!”

Bateson shot back, “Raise shields! Battlestations! Evasive: oh-one-six-mark-three-five! Get us outta weapons range!” As soon as the words left his mouth, the ship buckled to port. Captain Bateson shouted, “Return fire! Phasers and torpedoes! Give ‘em all ya got!” He braced himself for another hit as the surges of energy known as phasers pulsed out toward their target from the Bozeman, barely scratching the enemy. The photons, being more powerful, did more damage, but the enemy was still coming on strong. Bateson was thrown starboard by the next hit, and barely had time to compensate for the blow when he was jolted by another, sending him aftward. “I’m tired of this merry-go-round, get us outta here, Welch!”

Lieutenant Andy Welch replied, “Aye, sir. Maximum warp, heading two-six-eight-mark- five!”

That course was a direct U-turn, and the Bozeman strained to keep from ripping apart. Everyone on the Bridge, and throughout the ship, were thrown to port as the ship slid around it’s Y-axis, heading out into space at full speed. Dennis, after recovering himself, said, “They’re in pursuit and gaining fast! According to our sensor readings, she’s at warp nine point eight, and climbing!”

Welch cut in, “There’s no way our maximum nine point three could out run that, even if we stretched the limit.”

Captain Bateson replied, “But we have a smaller turn radius. Use that to our advantage. See that nebula over there? Let’s indulge ourselves in the Kirk Maneuver.” What he meant, was to use the nebula as cover, and hopefully get the enemy to follow, evening up the most unfair fights, due to the distortions the nebula causes in tactical and sensor read-outs. As expected, the enemy did follow, and Bateson was about to be in for the shock of his life.

The Enterprise sailed grimly into port, her crew realizing it could be the final time she docks here, or anywhere. Picard, rested and ready for life, turned in his chair to tactical, “Mr. Daniels, can we have a tactical layout of a Borg Cube Onscreen?”

Lt. Daniels replied, “Aye, sir, Onscreen.”

Everyone’s attention shifted to the viewscreen, to see a green wire frame of a Borg Cube.

“Magnify and specify tactical weaknesses in grid three-D,” Picard ordered.

They watched as the Cube zoomed in, and different red and blue spots appeared on the wire frame. Lt. Daniels spoke, “The blue is shielded areas, and the red is vulnerable.” The entire crew could see that the red zones drastically outnumbered the blue ones.

Picard thought out loud, “I wonder why the Borg have so many vulnerable spots, yet they seem to pose such a threat? Mr. Daniels, I want this image of the Cube transferred to my ready room, and I want the crew to study it, looking for the best place to strike, with the least amount of manpower lost, understood?”

“Aye, sir.” With that, Picard stood, and walked briskly to his ready room, ready for a cup of Earl Grey tea.

Morgan Bateson lunged forward, along with most of the bridge crew as the Bozeman plunged into the nebula. He ordered, “Emergency lights!” as the Bridge went dark. He turned to Dennis, “Scan the area for the enemy.”

Commander Mike Dennis answered, “Long range and low powered sensors are off-line. We can only tell where we are, not where they are.”

Captain Bateson thought for a moment, then said, “I have an idea. If we can set up a probe matrix, with, say, seven or eight probes in the area, could we not navigate and map this nebula to the second?”

Mike Dennis thought for another minute, then replied, “Yes, sir that would work. I’ll get right on it.”

“Do it, while we still have some time.”

“Aye, sir. First probe launch. Receiving data. Second and third probes launched. Receiving data.”

Andy Welch cut in, “Sir, what if the enemy destroys those probes?”

Bateson replied, “It’ll take them time to figure out what we’re doing, even if they get close enough to a probe to scan it. By that time, we should have ‘em cleaned out.”

Dennis reported, “Fourth, fifth, and sixth probes launched. First two in position. All are transmitting. We are getting an image of the Alpha Quadrant of the nebula. No enemy as of yet. Wait, she crossed into the field. Exact location is N-sixteen-mark-thirty-two.”

Bateson turned to Welch, “You heard him, N-sixteen-mark-thirty-two, go!”

Welch carried out his order, and Bateson tuned to tactical, where Ensign Whitney Gallimore was stationed. “Ms. Gallimore, I want weapons online, now.”

She replied, “Aye, sir. However, weapon’s lock is in-operative.”

Bateson looked at her. “Use your best guess, Ms. Gallimore.”

“Aye, sir.”

Dennis reported, “All probes in place and transmitting, nebula map active for all Quadrants.”

Bateson smiled. “All right, boys, this is where it gets fun!” He turned to the viewscreen and ordered, “Dennis, forward viewing, but put a viewing window of the nebula map in the corner so we can watch both at once.” As he saw the image of the nebula map appear in the upper left of the viewscreen, he walked up the slightly sloping ramp to the back of the bridge. The Bozeman’s bridge resembled that of a Galaxy class, but slightly smaller. As Bateson neared the tactical console, he said softly, “Ms. Gallimore, I know this is your first hostile situation in Starfleet. How do you feel?”

She paused for a moment, then replied softly, “A little nervous, and scared.”

Bateson continued, “I know Starfleet put you out to pasture a little early, you were the only tactical officer we could find, but we have to be ready for anything, ready to face our fear. Stay calm, and we’ll make it.”

She replied more confidently, “Aye, sir.”

Bateson walked down to his chair, touched the comm link, and said, “Bridge to Engineering?”

A voice from the other end replied, “Assistant Chief Engineer Foreman, sir.”

“Where’s Scotty?”

“He’s busy with a magnetic field alignment problem. When we did that slide, we put the field all outta wack. We can’t go to warp, and if the field is damaged further, we could be looking at a warp core breech.”

“Very well, Mr. Foreman. Bridge out. Everyone, be careful how you handle this baby, it seems she’s lost her shoes...”

A short time later, The Bozeman entered the Alpha Quadrant of the M-16 Nebula. Bateson walked calmly to his chair, and said, “ETA to weapon’s range?”

Ensign Gallimore replied, “forty-five seconds. Sir, there is a power decrease in our shielding, due to the effects of the nebula. If we are hit with anything equal to or greater than a phaser blast, it will slice right through our shields.”

Capitan Bateson replied, “Thank you, Ms. Gallimore. Steady as she goes, boys, this ship is on a balance beam, and I intend to keep ‘er on it.”

Ms. Gallimore cut in, “We are now within weapons range, sir.”

Bateson smiled, “Ms. Gallimore, give ‘er you’re best shot. Fire!”

All of a sudden, after the first torpedo left the ship, Engineer Foreman came in over the speakers, “Sir, the weapons power supply conduits are malfunctioning, due to the flux in the Magnetic Field. We don’t have phasers or torpedoes until I can get that conduit fixed.”

Bateson said, “Okay, Foreman, get my weapons back, pronto.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Ensign Whitney Gallimore was busy at her console, trying to help reroute the power supply to the weapons, when a message appeared on her communications screen. It read, “Hey, Whitney. I bet you can’t guess who this is, can you? Well, you’ve heard me today.” She thought, I’ve been on the Bridge for most of the day today, so who could it be? Andy Welch broke her train of thought,

“Sir, the hostile is turning our way, I think they saw us.”

Captain Bateson ordered, “Full reverse! Get this ship in gear!”

Mike Dennis cut in, “They are loading weapons, sir.”

Bateson yelled, “Full power! Give ‘er all ya got!”

Dennis continued, “They are firing.”

“Evasive: oh-one-six-mark-three. Go Andy!”

Despite their best efforts, the ship was struck with a tricobalt torpedo, sending her spiraling out of control. “Regain helm, Welch!”

Andy Welch replied, “Helm control is back, sir.”

“Get us outta here!”

Welch looked up, “No warp or impulse, sir.”

“Well use the thrusters, dammit! I want out of that thing’s weapon range.”

“Aye, sir.” Andy Welch carried out his order to the best of his ability, and Captain Bateson hit his comm link.

“Engineering, Mr Scott?”

A voice on the other end replied, “No, sir this is Engineer Foreman, Scotty is busy with the reactor.”

Bateson asked, “What is our damage status?”

“Warp and main power is down. We’re running on aux, sir. Impulse engines are currently offline, but torpedo bays are up and running, sir.”

“Very well, Foreman, Bridge out. Ms. Gallimore, load torpedo bays two, three, and four.”

She looked up, “Sir, what about bay one?”

“It’s still set for probes, and I can’t spare a man to go down there to reset it, understood?”

She answered, “Aye, sir. Torpedo bays loaded and ready.”

Bateson sat down in his command chair, and turned to Commander Bush at his side, “Gabe, I need you at Ops, to be a left hand man to Welch, and you’re the best there is.”

Gabriel Bush said, getting up, “Aye, sir, on my way.”

Suddenly, a voice came in over speakers, “Bridge, this is Scotty, Captain?”

Bateson replied, “Bateson here, Scotty, whadda ya got?”

“Well, sir, main power is still offline, so warping is out of da question, but impulse is back online, sir. We have full aux power, and phasers are at fifty percent. Shields are at ten percent, but the hull is almost fully repaired.”

“Thanks, Scotty.”

“Aye, sir, but, sir, would you rather if I got out ’n’ pushed?”

Bateson smiled, “No, Scotty, let’s not go that far. Yet.”

Bateson heard chuckling on the other end, then Scotty replied, “Aye, sir, Scott out.”

Engineer’s Mate Lieutenant Brad Foreman was busy under a console, trying to reroute phaser power back through the main conduit, so they could fire on full power, when he saw a pair of familiar feet beside his own. He slid out using the anti-grav workmat, and sat up to see Ensign Gallimore standing there. He smiled, “Hello, what brings you to the lower decks?”

She smiled, “I got your message, sir.”

He looked puzzled. “What mess-oh, that one.”

“You pick a heck of a time to get friendly!” She continued. “Sir,” she added.

Brad Foreman replied, “It was set for time release, I wrote it yesterday, knowing you’d be on the Bridge manning that console when it got to you. I set it to release only if your authorization code was being used on that console.”

She continued, “How’d you know my authorization?”

Lt. Foreman answered, “Well, I suppose when you are a lieutenant, you can pull some strings.”

“You mean, you went to your superior officer just to get my authorization codes?”

“You catch on fast.”

“Why?”

“Well, let’s just say meet me after duty, in my quarters.”

“Okay, I’ll see you there, so we can finish this.”

“I’ll be waiting.” Lt. Foreman watched as she rounded the corner toward the turbolift, then pushed himself back underneath the console, thinking about what was to come.

Captain Picard sat anxiously in his chair, awaiting the final scan to determine what he feared was true: that two Borg Cubes were enroute to Earth. Data said grimly, “Sir, there are two Borg Cubes entering the Alpha Quadrant. I estimate arrival in two point six hours.”

Picard replied, “Data, hail Starfleet and tell them to mobilize the fleet. All stations Red Alert.”

Data answered, “Aye, sir.”

Picard tapped his comm link. “Picard to Engineering. Geordi?”

“Aye, sir?”

Picard continued, “I want a brief overview of this ships readiness, along with full Engineering Staff on-duty, understood?”

“Aye, sir. All systems are at one hundred percent, and all of the Engineering Crew will be on-duty within the hour. Sir, the Enterprise couldn’t be more ready.”

“Very, well, Picard out.” Picard looked around the bridge, the said, “Has anyone seen Q?”

When no one answered, Picard thought out loud, “I wonder where he is?”

Captain Bateson paced his bridge, looking for a job to do, anything. The one thing he hated about command was not being able to do anything, just giving orders and watching it done. He said to Ensign Gallimore, “Ms. Gallimore, manual targeting, we’re going back. You heard me, Welch, step on it!”

Ms. Gallimore and Andy Welch said simultaneously, “Aye, sir.”

Bateson touched his comm link, “This is Captain Bateson on loud speakers. This ship is going back to face the hostile, and I am informing you now to stay at your post, and do your best to hold ‘er together. That’s an order. May we have Godspeed.”

Whitney said after he cut the comm link, “Sir, we are in weapon’s range.”

Bateson said, “Good, best guess, fire when ready.” After a short delay, three photon torpedoes sped out toward their target, striking it head on, and it went spinning out of control. “Fire!,” Bateson said confidently.

Suddenly, Mike Dennis cut in, “Sir, I just got a sensor lock on her. She’s Borg.”

Bateson shrugged, “Why do I care? She’s still goin’ down.”

“Sir, there are ongoing peace talks with the Borg.”

“What kinda peace allows the use of tricobalt torpedoes on your ally?”

“Good, point, sir. Let’s give ‘em hell.”

Ensign Gallimore cut in, “Phasers fired, sir. Photons away!” They all watched in awe as the nebula lit up with a supernova as the Borg ship violently exploded.

Wizz Dayton suddenly said, “Sir, I’ve got a Code One emergency from HQ. Says we’ve got two Borg Cubes breathin’ down Starfleet’s neck. Orders are to assist in the defending of Earth.”

Bateson looked around, “Just when you think it’s over. Set course for Earth, best speed.”

Welch replied, “Sir, warp is still offline.”

“Damn. Proceed at impulse, push ‘er to the max!”

“Aye, sir.”

“Engineering, I need warp, it’s a code one.”

Brad Foreman answered from the speaker, “Aye, sir. Rerouting weapons power to warp core. Successful. Warp is on-line.”

Bateson ordered, “Go, Andy!” The Bozeman stretched forward and sped up to warp seven, Earth her destination.

The Enterprise led the fleet of at least fifty cruisers, and a few destroyers. The armada was ready for battle, at least, physically. Their crew’s morale left much to be desired, however. Picard stood up in fear of the horrible sight on the Screen. “My god. I’ve never seen two at once. Fleet, this is Picard, open fire.” His fleet, along with the Enterprise, opened fire on the Borg Cubes. Suddenly, he heard over the comm link, “Shields down thirty percent!” “We need reinforcements on the alpha side.” “Brace for impact!” “Shields down eighty percent!” “Warp core breech! All hands abandon ship!” “Enterprise, fall back to the alpha side, you’re needed there.”

Picard stood in silence for a moment, then ordered, “Proceed to coordinates one-one-six-

mark-three, now! Continue to fire!”

The Enterprise surged to the left as a torpedo hit her saucer, sending Picard and everyone else flying. Picard got up, and yelled, “Return fire! Quantum torpedoes! Evasive: three-six-two- mark-eight-three.” Suddenly, out from behind the sun, came another armada of ships, all Klingon. Picard sat down in disbelief. He said, “Hail the Klingons.”

Data replied, “Frequencies open, sir.”

Picard said, “This is the Enterprise, state your purpose.”

A voice from the other end answered, “This is the Klingon cruiser Kay’ter, and we are here to assist you with your ‘little’ problem.”

Picard said astounded, “Ve-very well, Commander. We thank you for your assistance.”

“Any time, Picard.”

Picard muttered, “Well, at least one thing is going right today.”

Brad Foreman sat waiting in his quarters, when he heard a voice say, “This is Ensign Gallimore, may I come in, sir?”

Brad replied, “Don’t call me ‘sir’ off-duty, and, yes, you may enter.” The doors slid open, revealing Whitney Gallimore in very stunning off-duty clothing. She walked over to Brad, and said,

“May I sit?”

“In here, you are at home.”

She sat down, and asked, “What did you want to see me about?”

“Oh, uh, well. Let’s start when I was in my graduating year at Starfleet Academy. You had just entered the Academy, and I got to know you through friends. I talked to you a few times, and I came to like you. When I graduated, I was given the rank of Ensign, and I was shipped away to the construction of the Bozeman. I hadn’t seen you since, until I learned you were graduating. Then, when I heard that you were pursuing a tactical career, and that the Bozeman needed a tactical officer...”

“You requested my assignment to the Bozeman. Are you sure you aren’t Lt. Commander?”

“Positive. I talked with Captain Bateson, and he was all for the idea. He actually pulled the strings, not me.”

“Aw. Why did you request my assignment to Bozeman?”

“Isn’t it obvious? So I could see you. Be around you.”

“Wow, I had no idea.”

“’It’s true. I have liked you ever since I saw you, Whitney. And, ever since that time, I have been driven to see us together. Will you date me?”

She thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, I will.”

“You see, I have sat back and watch you date others, and felt miserable for not taking that first step. But now, I have a feeling you won’t be disappointed.”

“We have about five hours of R&R before we have to be back on-duty, do you mind if I spend them here?”

“Not at all, not at all.”

Picard looked around his bridge. The battle was raging on, and the Enterprise was feeling the effects. He asked, “Status of the Borg ships?”

Data answered, “One is slightly damaged, the other is weakening.”

“Open a channel to the fleet. This is Captain Picard, orient most of your firepower on the
weakest Cube. Scan to determine which it is, and then give ‘er all you’ve got. Picard out.”

The fleet, as before in the other Borg conflict, concentrated all of their firepower on one spot on that one Cube, and a shout of joy filled the skies as that ship violently exploded. The joy was short-lived, for the other Cube only stepped up it’s firing.

The Bozeman sped along in subspace, inching closer to the battle. Captain Bateson asked, “ETA to Earth?”

Lt. Foreman, who was sitting in for Andy Welch, answered, “Twenty-three minutes, sir.”

“Very well, proceed on course. Ms. Gallimore, give me our current torpedo compliment.”

She looked up briefly, “Sir, we have three-hundred-twenty-seven photon torpedoes, and one-hundred-fifty quantum torpedoes.”

“Thank you, Ms. Gallimore. Engineering?”

“Scott here, sir.”

“I need status report.”

“Aye, sir, we now have full power to all systems, but the engines aren’t up to standards. We are using auxiliary power to compensate.”

Wizz Dayton cut in, “Sir, I have just gotten word that one Cube is destroyed, but the fleet is down to twenty-seven ships.”

Bateson’s face turned grim. “All those people.” He paused, then said, “Very well, send to Picard: The boys are back in town.” Bateson gazed at the viewscreen, then walked silently to his ready room.