Gabriel Bush, his First Officer, answered instead of the helmsman, “Sir, we are two minutes closer than we were two minutes ago when you asked!”

Everyone on the Bridge smiled, but they all knew of the danger to come. Down there, at Opps, is Lt. Derek Kestner. And, over next to him, is his Academy roomie, Lt. Brad Foreman. Actually, Foreman is the auxiliary helmsman, but Andy Welch is in Sick Bay with injuries from the Borg attack. Over there, at communications, is Wizard Dayton, I don’t think anyone knows his real name, so it’s just Wizz. And, to his back, at Tactical, is the Tactical Officer, Ensign Whitney Gallimore. She has a more important role besides Weapon’s Officer, but that will come up later. And, to the right of the Captain’s Chair, sits the First Officer, Commander Gabriel Bush. And, finally, to his left, is the center man, Captain Morgan Bateson. And, down below, in the Engine Room, is a man who is famous in both his and the present times: Captain Montgomery Scott, or just “Scotty”. And, also below decks, is Dr. Alex Robinson, also graduating with Foreman and Kestner. Now, we set the story. Derek Kestner suddenly spoke, “Sir, we are entering visual range of the Cube.”

Bateson stood. “Onscreen,” he ordered.

The forward viewscreen shifted to a grayish cube in the distance, yet it almost filled the screen. Also, flying around it, was the pride and joy of Starfleet: it’s ships. However, they were decreasing in numbers. They looked like flies around an angry bull. Every now and again, an energy blast, phasers, would strike a ship, like the bull swatting it’s tail. Bateson saw this, and ordered, “Slow to impulse, boys, Red Alert!”

The order was carried out, and soon red lights consumed the Bridge, as everyone poised for battle.

Ensign Gallimore cut in, “Sir, our weapons are operating at their peak.”

Bateson smiled, “Good, the Borg won’t know what hit ‘em.” Even through his sugar coating, Bateson knew his ship was surely doomed.

Ms. Gallimore stated, “We are within weapons range, sir!”

Bateson replied, “All right, give ‘em everything we have! Photons, phasers, quantums, the works!”

“Aye, sir.”

The Bozeman opened fire on the Cube. The phasers whined, the photons pulsed, and Borg phasers returned fire, striking the Bozeman, sending her flying to port. Bateson ordered, “Hard to Starboard! Turn ‘er ‘round!” After a short pause, he said, “Hail Picard!”

Wizz Dayton replied, “On speakers, sir.”

Bateson took a breath, “Captain Picard, the Bozeman is at your disposal.”

A voice, Picard’s, answered, “Thank you, Captain Bateson. I wish we had time for greetings, but you are needed in the alpha sector, we are outgunned.”

Bateson smiled a thin smile, “See you there, Captain, Bozeman out.” He turned to Brad Foreman and ordered, “Mr. Foreman, proceed to the alpha sector, immediately.”

“Aye, sir,” he replied. As he carried out the order given, he heard Lt. Kestner whisper, “Boy, I just love this, don’t you?”

Foreman replied, “Yep, and I also love Whitney.” Derek smiled as the Bozeman buckled and strained under a torpedo hit.

Captain Jean-Luc Picard sat in his chair, bracing for an impact here and there, giving out orders everywhere. He suddenly stood and said, “Cease fire!” The crew all looked at him like he was a three nacelles short of a two nacelle warp configuration. He repeated, “Cease fire! Hail the fleet and give the same order!” Data carried out his order, puzzled, and Picard turned to Riker. “I think I’ve just found a way to stop them. What about sending an energy surge through a tractor beam?”

Riker’s face lit up, but suddenly darkened, “Sir, the ship doing it would be destroyed.”

Picard returned, “Better one ship than all of Earth! Hail the fleet, tell them we need one volunteer ship to be destroyed, but we can spare the crew.” As that order was carried out, Picard waited for an answer. Shortly, one came up.

“This is Morgan Bateson of the Bozeman, Captain Picard. The Bozeman is willing to be sacrificed.”

Picard, although he didn’t want it to be the Bozeman, replied, “Very well, Captain Bateson. Arrange to warp out of the area for shield lowering and crew transfer.”

Bateson smiled in his usual, casual manner, “The borg have already lowered our shields for us, aren’t they helpful? Heh, Bateson out.”

The Bozeman and the Enterprise sailed parallel to one another as the Bozeman’s crew threw together a few things to take with them off the ship that would not return. Brad Foreman packed light, so he was in Whitney Gallimore’s quarters, helping her sort out countless clothes. “You, know,” he said, “The Borg aren’t gonna wait for you to pack.” She smiled her gorgeous smile and answered, “So, they can learn how to.” Whitney was searching through her jewelry box, when she stopped, holding a locket with a gold chain necklace. She said sadly, “This was my mother’s.” Brad put his hand on her shoulder, remembering when she got the news that her mom had been killed in a Cardassian skirmish near a planet she was stationed on. That was before they had started dating, but Brad still remembered it as if it were yesterday. As she put the necklace around her neck, Brad said, looking in the mirror at her, “You know, you look very beautiful. That locket, I don’t know, it just adds to your beauty.”

She smiled again, “Mom said it brought good fortune to all who wear it.”

Brad laughed, “It’s not the luck part I see in you, that locket makes you look even more beautiful.”

She continued to pack, and Brad said good bye and walked out, in the direction of transporter room three.

An hour later, Brad, Whitney, and Derek were in a guest quarters aboard the Enterprise, enjoying some time off. They had to share this living space, due to two full crews occupying one ship. Brad spoke, “I tell you, even though there is a Borg Cube a lightyear away, I still feel as though I’m in the safest place in the Galaxy.” He was sitting on a couch, with Whitney to his left, inching ever closer to him. Derek was sitting in a chair opposite the couch, and they were talking about various subjects: the subspace weather, transporter matrices, stuff like that.

Derek saw that Whitney had “other” plans for the night, so he stood and said, “Oh, my goodness. I almost forgot. I have to go to the Bridge to assist Captain Picard and Captain Bateson in the course adjustment of the Bozeman.”

Brad replied, “Okay, Derek. I’ll see you later.”

Derek said, “Bye, Whitney.”

She answered, “Bye, Derek.” As she answered, Derek got up and walked out the doors, a smile inching across his face.

Captain Picard and Captain Bateson sat in Picard’s ready room. Bateson stood up in frustration, “Jean-Luc, the Bozeman may not be the oldest ship in the fleet, but she’s got quite a bit of damage on her, and some of it can’t be repaired without months in dry dock. So, she’s ready for demolition. Without her, the Federation’s chances of survival in this attack are slim. We’re runnin’ out of time, here.”

Picard sat forward, “I see where you’re coming from, Morgan. But the Bozeman as she is might not withstand all the pressures of a tractor beam overload long enough to take care of the Borg.”

“But that’s a risk we’ll have to take. Jean-Luc, there’s no time to evacuate another ship. This is it.”

Picard stood and said, “Very well. Picard to Bridge, set course for our return.”

Data replied, “Aye, sir.” With that, Picard and Bateson walked out of the room onto the Bridge.

Meanwhile, down below decks, in guest quarters number 17, Whitney and Brad were to the point where time doesn’t exist. They were talking, and enjoying what could be their last night together. For the first time, Brad noticed his body moving ever so slightly forward, as did Whitney’s. They got closer, and closer, until Brad could feel her breath on his face. Suddenly, a voice over the intercom said, “All Bozeman personnel report to Cargo Bay Two for roll check, immediately.”

The Bozeman, now empty, flew closer to the Borg Cube, just outside of tractoring range. Picard, from onboard the Enterprise, awaited the Bozeman to enter range. He saw on the readout: two-thousand kilometers. Just as he was about to give the order to engage the Bozeman’s tractor beam, Data cut him off, “Sir, there is an enormous armada of Starfleet vessels warping into the system. I estimate over fifty.”

Picard knew immediately what the source of the vessels was. “Q,” he said, almost whispering. He then righted himself, and ordered, “Hail those vessels.”

Data answered, “Aye, sir. Onscreen.”

The Borg Cube image shifted to a familiar Galaxy class Bridge, and, in it’s center, was Q, wearing an Admiral’s uniform. “Greetings, Mon Captain. Sorry I’m late, had a few loose ends to tie up. Where will we be the most helpful?”

Picard replied, “Close in on the Cube until you are within tractoring range, then engage all of your tractor beams. Once you’ve done that, send an energy surge through your tractor beams onto the Borg Cube.”

Q answered, “Even though all of my ships will be destroyed, I will do as you ask. After all, I can always make more.” He cut the connection smiling, and Picard saw that the Bozeman was still within tractoring range of the Cube. He stood and said, “Turn the Bozeman around, Mr. Data.”

Data attempted to carry out his order, but answered, “I cannot, sir, there appears to be technical difficulties onboard the Bozeman.”

Lt. Daniels cut in, “Sir, the Bozeman is under attack by the Borg Cube.”

Picard turned to Data, “Can you at least get her shields up?”

Data replied, “Already doing it, sir. The malfunction appears to be limited to the Navigational Console.”

Picard stood, saying, “We need someone to go over there, the Bozeman is too close to the Cube, she’ll be destroyed.”

Riker asked, “But who?”

Bateson cut in, “The one man out of all the Bozeman’s crew who can navigate and engineer: Lt. Brad Foreman.”

Brad was standing at attention in Cargo Bay Two, awaiting his name to be called, checking to make sure he wasn’t still onboard the Bozeman. As the alphabetical list approached his name, he heard his name being called over the intercom, “Lt. Foreman, report to the Bridge, immediately.” That’s Captain Picard, he thought, before realizing it was his name called. He broke ranks, and headed towards the Main Doors.

On the Bridge, Brad Foreman listened patiently as the plan was laid out before him. When Captain Picard was finished, Lt. Foreman spoke, “Sir, I’ll need a tactical officer, it’s pretty hard to Navigate through all those drifting ships, much less fend off a Borg Cube in the process.”

Picard replied, “Do you suggest anyone, lieutenant?”

He answered, “Yes, sir, Ensign Whitney Gallimore. And, sir, the Bozeman has more hot-wiring than a stolen car junkyard, so can I request that Lt. Derek Kestner accompany me, so he can navigate, Ms. Gallimore can man tactical, and I can try to hold ‘er together in Engineering.”

Picard replied, “Request accepted, lieutenant. You may be on your way, then. I’ll arrange for your comrades to join you in Shuttle Bay One.”

Brad said, “Aye, sir,” turned, and walked onto the turbolift, headed for a Shuttlecraft.

Derek took one look around, and said, “Why are we here, again?”

Brad replied, starting up the shuttle, “To U-turn the Bozeman.”

Whitney cut in, “But I thought that the Bozeman was doomed?”

Brad answered, “Apparently, some more ships came from a Federation ally, and they’re gonna take care of it.”

Derek and Whitney both said, “Oh.” Brad continued to fire up the shuttle, and soon they were on their way. Derek and Brad were up in the front row of seats, Navigationing and directing, while Whitney was in the next row of seats, at the Tactical Console.

Derek said, “Time to Bozeman intercept, two point three minutes.”

Brad replied, “Good, keep ‘er steady, weapons at the ready.”

Ms. Gallimore replied, “Aye, sir.”

Brad asked, “Status of the Bozeman?”

Derek checked his sensor readings, and said, “She has fifty percent shields, but her weapons systems are over loading. She has about three minutes of firepower left, before she short-circuits.”

Brad said, “Very well, remain on course.” A short time later, Brad ordered, “Mr. Kestner, lower her shields quickly on my mark, I’m sending us in. After I do so, raise the shields immediately, understood?”

Derek replied, “I would call you sir, but I am a lieutenant as well, so...”

Brad moaned, “Just do it, okay?”

Derek answered, “I was only joking! Aye, aye, sir,” he said, smiling.

Brad rolled his eyes as the shuttle sped up, pushing them all back in their seats. As the shuttle slowed, Brad yelled, “Raise ‘er shields!” The order was carried out, and Brad docked the shuttle to the Forward Docking Bay on the Bozeman’s saucer. As the unlikely crew stepped out onto the Bozeman, their bodies were consumed by red lights. As they made their way to the Bridge, Derek said, “Shouldn’t you be in Engineering?”

Brad replied, “Nope, odds are the problem is within the console on the Bridge.”

Derek nodded as they stepped onto the turbolift. Brad said, “Bridge.”

The computer replied, “Unable to comply. The Bridge is damaged beyond specified safety levels.”

Brad rolled his eyes. “New destination: Battle Bridge,” he said as the turbolift sped toward it’s target.

Whitney spoke, “I guess the Bridge was damaged when the Borg threw their barrage of quantum torpedoes.”

Brad replied, “Probably so. This makes my job even easier. The Battle Bridge is even more fortified than the Bridge, so the odds of the malfunction locating there are slim to none, which means that since the computer automatically reroutes the Bridge controls when the Bridge is damaged, the problem is probably in Engineering.”

Derek cut in, “If that makes since to you, it works for me.”

The turbolift stopped, and the door swooshed open, revealing the slightly smaller Battle Bridge. It had much the same layout as the regular Bridge, but was more compact. Brad rushed over to the nearest exit not a turbolift, headed toward Engineering. Before he got out of the doors, Whitney said, “Stop!”

Brad slid to a stop, and said, “What for?” She rushed over to him, and took the locket from around her neck. She put it around Brad’s neck, and said,

“I love you.”

Brad stared into her eyes, and then turned and walked through the doors. Derek sat down at the Conn, and Whitney made her way up to the Tactical Console. Derek said, “Whitney, what is the current ship status?”

Whitney replied, “Calculating it, sir, the Computer is on auxiliary running mode, due to all the short circuiting.”

Derek replied, “Very well.”

Brad cut in over the speakers, “The Engine Room is a mess! There’s wires strung out everywhere, and the warp core is off-line. The best I can give ya is Emergency Power, which is only half impulse.”

Derek replied, “Better than no impulse at all, setting course.”

Brad said, “Emergency Power is up and running. I’ll be trying to give you aux power shortly.”

Derek answered, “Kestner out.” As he plotted the course, the Bozeman was thrown to starboard. Derek held on, and ordered, “Report!”

Whitney answered, “Sir, the Cube is firing on us!”

Derek hit the comm link, “Bridge to Engineering.”

Brad replied, “What’s goin’ on up there?”

Derek answered, “We got resistance. Do we have weapons?”

Brad replied, “I can hot-wire you three torpedoes, that’s it!”

Derek said, “Do it! Kestner out.”

Whitney cut in, “Sir, I’m reading three torpedoes armed and ready!”

Derek replied, “Fire!” As the torpedoes shot out toward the Borg Cube, the Bozeman flew to port as a torpedo struck the saucer. The shields collapsed and the Bozeman’s hull became fifty percent weaker.

Brad cut in over the speakers, “There’s only one way to get this ship moving again, and that’s to replace the Dilithium crystals. But, the radiation from the fluxing magnetic field is too great for any human to withstand. There’s only one other option: Derek, fly this sucker home. Whitney, I love you.”

Derek sat there for a moment, then said, “No, you wouldn’t!”

Even though he couldn’t see him, Derek knew Brad was smiling, “Yes, I would.”

Whitney realized what he was doing, too, and screamed, “NO! Please don’t, Brad!” She began to cry, and Brad said,

“Whitney, Whitney listen to me, it’s the only way. If I don’t, then the Bozeman won’t make it, and neither will you two.”

Derek cut in, “Brad, I’ll go, you stay here with Whitney.”

Brad replied, “No deal,” and cut the connection. Whitney ran toward the doors, but Derek cut her off. “Listen,” he said, holding her back. “It’s what he want’s to do. I’ve known Brad long enough to know that if he wants to do something, he’ll get it done.”

She was weeping uncontrollably. “But he’ll be killed!”

Derek continued, “But he’s doing it to save you! He doesn’t care about his life now, he want you to live a happy one.”

She replied, “But I can live a happy life, with Brad!”

Derek answered, “Brad would’ve probably done the same for me, I know him, Whitney. Please, return to your post.”

She stood there in complete silence for a moment, then replied, “Yes, sir.”

Derek said, sitting down, “Not sir, just Derek.”

She returned to her post, and Derek reported, “Warp is...” his voice trailed off. He picked back up, “...on-line. Setting course for Saturn.”

Brad sat up in what had to be a Sick Bay. He looked around, seeing Derek, Captains Picard and Bateson, Scotty, Andy Welch, Wizz Dayton, Gabe Bush, and Whitney all crowded around his bed. He said hoarsely, “Where am I?”

Dr. Crusher plowed through the by-standers, and answered, “You’re on the Enterprise, Mr. Foreman.”

He continued, “How did I survive the radiation?”

Dr. Crusher replied, “I don’t rightfully know, lieutenant. I have a theory that involves the gold locket you were wearing around your neck when we found you.”

Brad asked, “What about it?”

Dr. Crusher answered, “Apparently, the gold in the locket has a repelling property to anti-matter radiation.”

Brad looked at Whitney, into her eyes, and he could almost hear her say, Told you so.