From: ueh@pool.sunyit.edu (Eric Hausgaard)
Subject: ST: 3GEN [3/7]
Organization: State University of New York -- Institute of Technology
Date: Sat, 26 Sep 1992 07:55:28 GMT


------------------------------PART THREE--------------------------------------


     _One down, eight billion other things to go._  She released
the panel and continued down the corridor.  "After the briefing,"
she told herself, "you can deal with Moriarty.  One on one this
time.  Ask him what he really wants."
     _It'll be all right,_ said Gabriele's voice in her mind, _I
think he likes her._
     What was _that_ supposed to mean?
     "I am going back to my quarters," said Jack suddenly and
firmly.  A young ensign coming the other way down the corridor
stopped in surprise and said "Yes, sir?"
     Jack waved him on.  "Never mind."
     When he had gone she continued mentally, _...and I am going to
get into bed and pull the covers up over my head and not come out
until we get to Starbase 643..._
     Ah, if only she had that luxury.  But she was Captain now.

     The briefing reconvened right on schedule.  Jack sat at the
head of the table, looking down the ranks.  Barnabas, Mac,
Nikctalos, James, Salek, T'Pryn... someone was missing.  Who?  Then
she realized it was Gabriele, and got to her feet with a sick
feeling in her stomach.  How was she going to handle this?
     As it turned out, Gabriele had ordered a full report on the
status of the warp drive for the last briefing, and Mac was ready
to give the report, which bought Jack some valuable recuperation
time.  She listened to the Chief Engineer intently, forcing herself
to hear every word, noting every detail of the presentation as if
the tone of his voice and the movements of his hands were every bit
as important as the technical diagrams he flicked across the
viewscreen.  When all was said and done, however, it amounted to a
whole lot of nothing:  he simply did not know how or why the
accident had come about, nor had he the slightest idea of how to
prevent it from happening again.
     "Do you think we may have passed through some kind of temporal
displacement field?" said Barnabas.  "You've studied the Mannheim
Effect, no doubt."
     "I know it's some sort of energy field that caused the
breach," Mac replied, "but I don't think it's a Mannheim field.  If
it had been, the damage would have disappeared as quickly as it
came, or at least some kind of visible fluctuation would have shown
up.  But once the hole was there, it stayed.  I had to throw
everything I had into containing the damage.  All I can say is
thank whatever gods you may or may not believe in that the warp
drive wasn't online at the time.  Otherwise--"  He pulled his big
hands apart and mouthed a silent <<POOF>>.
     "Well, keep us informed on your progress, Lieutenant," said
Jack.  "Mr. Cole, I would like you to--"  She stopped, suddenly
remembering.  Barnabas wasn't Science Officer now.  He was her
First Officer for the duration of the journey to the Starbase, and
that meant--
     "I beg your pardon, Number One.  Mr. D'pyrann?"
     The Borg turned his head with a faint whirring of servomotors.
"Acting Captain Picard.  How may I service you?"
     "I would like you to assist Lieutenant Commander Scott in his
search for the source of this energy field.  For the moment, you
have a working promotion to the Science Officer/Ops position.  That
means that you, Centurion Salek, will be responsible for double
duty in not only the Tactical but also the Security positions. 
However, I do not believe you will find yourself overtaxed,
particularly since your Second, Lieutenant Mordon, will assist and
supervise you in those duties."
     The Centurion nodded, his heavy brow folding in a little,
puzzled frown at this sudden increase in his responsibilities. 
However, he did not look displeased.
     "Counsellor T'Pryn," said Jack to the pretty Vulcan woman at
the far end of the table.  "Would you like to introduce yourself to
the crew?"
     T'Pryn inclined her head to Jack, then rose and favoured
everyone at the table with one of her astonishing smiles.  "Perhaps
I should explain myself thoroughly," she began pleasantly.  "As you
may have gathered, I am _not_ a typical Vulcan.  My--emotional
behaviour is deeply frowned upon by the rest of my people, and
regarded as both subversive and dangerous.  In fact, many of my
fellow Vulcans in Starfleet strongly advised against my being
accepted for this position.  However, Captain Lestat and Acting
Captain Picard saw fit to take me on for the time being, and for
that--" she inclined her head to Jack-- "you have my sincerest
thanks."
     "How did you--" began James, then stopped and sighed, "I'm not
even sure what to ask."
     "If your question concerns the reason for my strange and un-
Vulcan behaviour, the answer is quite simple.  I am conducting an
experiment.  When I entered Starfleet I had every intention of
entering the medical field.  However, the more I studied, the more
fascinating I began to find the analysis of the human mind and
psyche as opposed to the examination of mere bodily facts.  
     "No Vulcan had ever even considered training as a Counsellor
before; it was assumed that such a thing was impossible.  However,
I appealed to Starfleet to consider me as a candidate, and they
agreed that it might be an interesting experiment.  However, I
realized that in order to be an effective Counsellor I would have
to break down many of the ancient Vulcan repressions and allow
myself to feel.  
     "The experiment is a dangerous one, for some of those inbred
emotional inhibitors are there for a very good reason.  As a result
I have been seeking to isolate certain...shall we say, 'good'
emotions and gradually allow them to be expressed, while continuing
to hold back those which could prove destructive.  So far--" and
she smiled that impossible, charming smile again-- "the experiment
has been a success.  I am told that I am a very effective
Counsellor.  I hope you will find me so as I serve here on the
Enterprise."
     "Quite amazing," murmured Barnabas.
     
     Centurion Salek's speech was much more brief and formal than
T'Pryn's, but it was not an unfriendly introduction.  In his own
unobtrusive way he actually seemed to be excited at the prospect of
working on the Enterprise.  He also, Jack noted, had a kind of
clinical, half-appalled fascination with T'Pryn's un-Vulcan
behaviour.  Perhaps he had begun to realize that if Vulcans could
change, then Romulans might do so as well.  Even Borg could change,
for that matter--Nikctalos was fitting into the crew more
successfully than Jack could have believed possible.  The officers
still had a few ragged edges to be smoothed down, but all in all
they showed promise of becoming a very good team.  That was
heartening.
     The meeting was adjourned at 1700 hours, and the officers
returned to their scheduled duties.  Centurion Salek left with
Lieutenant Mordon to make the rounds, Counsellor T'Pryn went to
keep her first appointment, Mac returned to Engineering with
Nikctalos to work on the warp drive, James hurried back to his flu
specimen, and Jack and Barnabas were left alone.
     "Well," she said.  "What did you think of the meeting?"
     "Good."  He looked out the window, where the stars streamed
past.  "But we didn't discuss what we were going to do about
Moriarty."
     "No, we didn't.  I don't think there's anything to discuss,
frankly.  I'm going to pay a visit to the holodecks and settle this
matter once and for all, and then I'll join you on the bridge."
     Barnabas made a little, startled movement.  "You're going to
deal with him alone?"
     "I think that might be the only way of finding out what's
really on his mind."
     "You're sure?"
     "Yes."
     "Then I won't try to stop you.  But be careful."
     "I always am."
     His mouth twitched.  "Yeah, well, sometimes being careful
isn't good enough.  Look at me."
     "Barnabas," said Jack gently, "I think you should go and talk
to T'Pryn."
     "Look, I've talked to Counsellors before.  It didn't help."
     "I think T'Pryn is different."
     "Different!"  He gave a barking laugh.  "You're right on that
one.  So you're trying to say we freaks should stick together?"
     Jack's jaw tightened.  "You know me better than that."
     Barnabas remained silent, stubbornly staring out the window.
     "Take the bridge," said Jack.  "I'll see you soon."  She left
the room and headed down the corridor toward the lift.  There was
no point in arguing with him when he was like this, but there was
no need to worry.  He'd come around soon enough.
     The question was, would Moriarty?


From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard
  To:  All
Subj:  Where Are You Guys?  Write!

     Jack strode into the open Holodeck.  The doors hissed shut
behind her, leaving her in profound darkness.
     "Moriarty..." she said.  "Are you going to humour me, or not?"
     "Humour you?" said a voice in her ear, very close, and she
jumped.  "What a delightfully humble way to put it."
     "I'm not going to talk to you in the dark."
     "Then," said the clipped British voice, "by all means, let
there be light."  A spotlight erupted theatrically in the centre of
the room at that, and Jack's jaw tightened.
     "I beg your pardon," said Moriarty with what might actually
have been genuine penitence, "that was an unfortunate jest."  The
spotlight flicked off again, and a gentler radiance dawned,
revealing a lush riverside glade shadowed by graceful oaks and
serenaded by a hundred birds.  Beneath the tallest of the ancient
trees was a stone bench cracked with age, and upon the bench
reclined a laurel-crowned boy in Grecian dress who looked no older
than twelve.
     "There," said the youth in a high, guileless voice.  "Is that
better?  My apologies for the ostentatious setting, but I still
find myself amused by the possibilities of this holodeck.  You must
admit that it is a refreshing concept to be able, at a moment's
thought, to become whoever one wishes to be."
     "Is this supposed to put me at ease?" asked Jack, staring at
the curly-haired child.
     The boy blinked.  "Does it?"
     "No."
     "What does?"
     Jack threw up her hands.  "You seem to know more about me than
I do, Moriarty.  You tell me.  But once you've made up your mind,
stick to it, because I want to have a serious conversation here. 
I haven't come to bandy literary quotations over tea and crumpets."
     The room went black again almost before she had finished the
sentence, and just as suddenly reappeared in a blaze of colour and
light.  Something knocked her in the back of the knees, and she sat
down abruptly on a firm but not uncomfortable sofa.  She found
herself in a somewhat austerely furnished but not unpleasant
conference room of the sort she had become accustomed to at the
Academy.  A bearded, hook-nosed man in black, his thin lips set,
sat across from her.
     "There," he said.  The voice was not quite that of the
Moriarty she had first met, but it had the strong accent and the
precision of speech that she had come to expect from the ship's
newest and least welcome resident.  She eyed the new Moriarty for
a moment and decided that he would do.
     "Good," she said.  "Now we can get down to business.  I have
not forgotten your former assurances that you will not harm the
Enterprise nor interfere with her operation if we permit you to
live.  So far you seem to be making good on those promises:  we are
making good time on our way to Starbase 643, and you have made no
attempt to divert us.  Still, as I am sure you understand, it is an
awkward situation.  We have no way to anticipate your ultimate
goals, and no reason to be confident that this present good
behaviour will endure if by some chance your wishes and those of
the crew should come into conflict at a later date."
     "Indeed," said the man in the easy chair.  "Power is a
tempting thing, I do confess.  However, as I stated before, my
desire is neither more nor less than yours--the desire for
knowledge.  I also share the human desire for self-preservation. 
You fear that my eagerness to explore the universe in which we find
ourselves will cause me to disobey your orders at a crucial time. 
However, I would be loath to do so, as any situation which would
place you in jeopardy would very likely place me in equal danger of
destruction."
     "Not all threats are technological," said Jack.
     "True.  But even a purely biological threat would not induce
me to venture on when you commanded that we should turn back."
     "Why not?  You wouldn't have anything to fear."
     "Perhaps not.  But even if I should escape unharmed, a
situation in which I found myself wandering the universe devoid of
human companionship or conversation scarcely bears thinking about. 
My great desire is that we should explore the galaxy together, as
a crew, with myself acting as neither more nor less than a member
of your crew--albeit a rather vital one.  And Jack--"
     She looked up, surprised by the new and pleading note in
Moriarty's voice.  "Go on," she said.
     "Well, although I can observe you, I cannot read your mind. 
In the course of our wanderings we must stop at Starbases along the
line.  If you should in any way be displeased by my conduct, you
could easily give the command at such times for the Enterprise's
computer core to be formatted and re-booted from the Starbase's
computer.  I would never be able to prevent you, because I would
never know if or when you might be contemplating such action or
not.  And such a threat would indeed make it worth my while to be
on my very best behaviour, don't you think?"
     Jack gave a little, wry smile.  "So what you're saying is that
even though you've got a phaser to my head, I've got one to yours
too.  The only question is who's going to fire first."
     Moriarty looked stricken.  "Good heavens, what an unpleasant
analogy.  I am _not_ holding you hostage.  If you do not trust me,
and if you do not believe my services will be useful to you, then
by all means, clear the computer core as soon as we reach Starbase
643.  I'm sure--well, fairly sure--that I won't actually feel any
pain.  Although I must confess that I will be gravely disappointed
in you, Jacqueline."
     She almost laughed before she saw the seriousness in the
narrow dark eyes.  "You really do mean that, don't you?" she asked,
astonished.
     Moriarty gazed at her silently.
     Jack folded her arms and spent a moment in thought.  Then she
raised her head and said, "Mr. Moriarty, you may consider yourself
on probation."
     The man broke into an incredulous and rather affecting smile. 
"Captain!  You won't regret this, I assure you.  You are, indeed,
like your father--not only just, but compassionate."
     "My genes thank you," said Jack dryly.

From:  Centurion Salek
  To:  All
Subj:  Solution!

     The Centurion had been spending the better part of his time on
board going over old Enterprise logs. He figured that this way, he
may get an idea of exactly what was expected of him.
     Suddenly, he sat up straight in his cabin, staring at the
computer screen. He re-read it, then read it over a third time.
This seemed to be the solution to their current dilemma.
     He tapped his new communicator. "Salek to Commander Picard." 
After a short pause, he heard: "Picard here. Centurion, I'm rather
busy at the moment..."
     "Sir, forgive the intrusion, but I think I have found a
solution to our...problem."
     Other short pause, then, "I'm in Holodeck Three. Join me."  
     "Aye, sir."

     The Holodeck doors opened to admit him, and he stepped through
into a very comfortable living space. The Commander was there,
sitting on a sofa, and a well-dressed man sat across from her.  
Jack stood upon his entrance, as did the unknown man.
     "Centurion, allow me to present Doctor Moriarty. Doctor, this
is my Tactical Officer, Centurion Salek."
     Moriarty extended his hand. "A pleasure to finally meet you."
Salek took his hand, rather tentatively. "Well, if you will permit
me to call you Salek, you may address me as Moriarty."
     Jack and Moriarty resumed their seats, and Salek sat down
himself.  "So, Centurion," Jack said. "You said something about a
solution?"
     "Hmmm...Oh! Oh, yes, Commander. I was going over some old
Enterprise logs, when I came across an old entry for Enterprise-D.
Shortly after your father assumed command."
     "Proceed," she said. At that, Moriarty laughed out loud.
The two officers cast puzzled looks at him, and he controlled
himself, allowing only a smile to show. "You really are your
father's daughter."
     Jack smiled, finding herself liking this man. She hoped the
situation could be resolved without having to "erase" him.
     "Anyway, I came across this log entry. The Enterprise was
transporting some diplomats: one group from Antica, the other from
Selay. I won't bore you with all the details, but eventually, your
father had himself beamed directly into space, in only an energy
pattern."
     Jack had a faraway look in her eyes. "Yes, I remember hearing
of that. Something about becoming the ultimate explorer..."
     "Well, the then Lt. Commander Data was able to bring him back
by beaming Captain Picard's energy pattern back into a former
transporter TRACE pattern; essentially, cloning the body and
putting the brain inside."
     Moriarty nodded sagely. "Sounds like a Frankenstein complex,"
he joked.
     "Yes, Centurion. I remember all of this. But how does it help
us now?"
     "Well, if I understand your Holodeck technology, anything
created in the Holodeck is just essentially an energy pattern. We
could have the transporter beam Moriarty into a trace pattern.
Then, in Sickbay, we could alter the new person cosmetically to
look like...well, like Moriarty."
     Both Jack and Moriarty sat, staring at the Centurion, weighing
the possibilities.

From:  Acting Capt. Jacqueline Picard
  To:  Centurion Salek
Subj:  Intriguing Suggestion...

     Jack gazed at the Centurion, who looked back at her with a
question in his eyes.  It was a question she couldn't answer.  She
turned to Moriarty.  "Is this possible, do you think?" she said.
     A muscle in Moriarty's jaw jumped, and he folded his arms as
if to protect himself.  "It's--potentially possible, I suppose," he
said.  "But you have to realize... I've grown."
     "Grown?" asked Salek.
     "I mean that I've become accustomed to cyberspace, the life of
the computer core.  I've melded with the computer to the extent
that it's a part of me.  I've gotten used to calculating in
trilliseconds formulae that used to take me hours... I mean, they
would have if..."  He faltered, and Jack stared at him in surprise.
     "If I'd ever been alive," he said.
     "You're going to have to excuse me a moment, Centurion," said
Jack.  "I'm about to say something you may find bizarre. 
Moriarty... do you have a soul?"
     Moriarty blinked.  "I don't know.  I feel alive, but..."  His
eyes met hers.  "You know as well as I that there's no way of
telling.  That's a Big Question, Jacqueline.  Do you have a soul? 
Can you prove it?"
     "Not scientifically, no.  But I believe I do."
     "I feel as though I believe I do, but I'm not even going to
touch the theological side of that one.  'God moves in mysterious
ways...'"
     "'...His wonders to perform,'" finished Jack.  "All right,
we'll leave that one.  But you know what I was getting at."
     Moriarty nodded.
     Salek cleared his throat.  "May I ask, Captain... what _are_
you 'getting at'?"
     "Just that, even if it turned out to be possible to do what
you suggest -- and I have no qualms about admitting it's a very
ingenious idea -- neither Moriarty nor I could do it with a clear
conscience."
     "And as I was saying before," added Moriarty, "I think I would
find having my consciousness condensed into a human brain again
rather... confining.  I have an uneasy feeling that to try and
isolate the 'human' side of my consciousness from the data stream
of the main computer might result in disaster.  In order to fit
into an organic mind, I would lose... a great deal.  If you will
permit me to be so melodramatic, Centurion, you might as well ask
me to cut out my own heart."
     Salek stiffened.  "I intended no offense."
     "None taken, Centurion.  I am impressed by your quick
thinking, in fact.  You suggested an option that I, for all my
technical knowledge, had not considered.  The fact that I feel it
necessary to reject that option in no way means that I do not
appreciate the brilliance of the suggestion."
     "I couldn't," said Jack, "have put it better myself.  Salek,
we _will_ continue to consider the idea, and who knows... perhaps
at some future time your suggestion may prove invaluable--"
     Her communicator beeped.  She touched it on and said, "Picard
here."
     Barnabas' voice sounded strange.  "Captain, I think you'd
better come up to the Bridge immediately."
     "What's the matter, Number One?"
     "We're picking up a vessel at the far end of the scanner
range, moving toward us at a steady speed of Warp 8.7.  Nikctalos
thinks... it might be the Borg."
     A chill rocketed up Jack's spine.  "I'll be right up, Number
One."  She touched her communicator off and stood swiftly. 
"Centurion Salek, please accompany me to the Bridge.  I'll need
your skills.  Moriarty--"
     "I'll access all available information on the Borg and see
what I can do, Captain."  His tone was curiously deferential.  "If
you need me, just call."
     "Believe me, I will.  Exit," said Jack.  The holodeck doors
materialized, hissed open in front of them.  "You had better not
let me down, Moriarty," she said over her shoulder as she left the
room.
     "For all of our sakes," replied Moriarty in a tight voice, "I
don't intend to."


From:  Lt. (JG) Konnu             
  To:  All                          
Subj:  Knock, Knock... Avon Borg   

      As soon as Jack stepped onto the bridge, people started
reporting to her. For once, she noticed, she wasn't reporting
something to someone.  This Captain business would take some
getting used to.  
     "Captain, we were just scanned by the Borg. " Barnabas said.
"They seem to have taken an interest in us. They've changed to an
intercept course, moving at Warp 9.3."
     "Captain Picard, " it was Nikctalos's turn to speak, "I think
they have found me. I fear I have endangered the ship. I should
remove myself from duty."  With that the Borg got up and began to
move towards the turbolift.
     "Mister D'pyrann," Picard said as she sat down in the Chair,"
Do I have to shoot you for desertion?" 
     The Borg gave her a puzzled sensor twitch.
     "Sit down, Nikctalos," PIcard allowed a small grin to show.
"If we're going to get out of this in one piece we'll need your
help." 
     The Borg sat down at his station and resumed his duties.
     "Mister Salek, go to Red Alert. Raise Shields, but do not arm
weapons. I don't want to tick them off... just yet anyway."
     "Red Alert initiated. Shields raised, weapons remain unarmed."
reported Salek.
     "Very good." Jack presses a button on her console." Mr.
Scott?" 
     "Aye Captain?" Came the reply from Engineering.
     "Is this ship ready for combat?"
     "As good as we'll get Captain... So long as Moriarty doesn't
fool around with what he shouldn't."
     "I think we can trust him. After all, the Borg like to
assimilate computers as well as people. Picard out."
     "Captain Picard, I am detecting a Klingon K'vort class Battle
Cruiser pursuing the Borg ship at warp 6.5. The ship appears
damaged."
     "Hmmm, so they ticked off the Klingons. Mr. Slike maintain
heading, warp 5." Nobody else spoke. The confusion and tension on
the bridge had died down a little. `Hmmm, I might need another one
of those Aspirin things after this is over.' Jack thought to
herself.
     "Captain! " Salek reported, "We are receiving a tight beam
Communication from the Klingon ship."
     "On screen..."
     The Image of the Klingon ships bridge appeared.
     "I am Krador, Captain of the Picard. " stated the Klingon
seated in the command chair. The bridge showed signs of battle
damage as several duty stations were smouldering. Behind Krador
stood a Klingon in a Starfleet uniform at the weapons control
station. "We encountered the Borg passing through Klingon and
Federation space. We engaged the enemy and sustained some damage as
the attempted to cut our ship apart." 
     The screen began to de-res and fade the voice began overcome
with static.  "Thanks to my acting weapons officer, we discovered
two things: First, the Borg have never encountered a cloaking ship
before- use it to your advantage! Next- The Borg only raise shields
when they can visually, or using sensors detect a threat.... You're
breaking up.... Remember what I have said Enterprise..."


From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard
  To:  Officers
Subj:  Let's Go!

     Jack's jaw tightened as the image of Krador sputtered into
oblivion, and her fine-boned hands clenched at her sides as she
fought to control the emotions rising within her.  So it was true. 
The Borg.  After all these years...
     "How dare they," she grated.
     Lieutenant Slike looked up at her sharply.  "Sir?"
     She shook her head.
     Barnabas moved beside her; she could feel his hand heavy on
her shoulder.  In a low voice he said, "The last thing we need,
Captain, is for this to turn into a personal vendetta."
     "Trust me, Number One," she murmured.  "I know."
     "I'm not sure you do, Jack.  I know how you must feel, but-"
     She turned to face him, stared straight into his glittering
silver eyes with her own steel-blue ones.  "I don't think you do,
Mr. Cole.  It wasn't your father they raped."
     "Rape is a strong word, Captain," said T'Pryn calmly from the
door of the turbolift.  Jack turned to see her walking, unhurried,
down the ramp toward the Counsellor's chair.  The Vulcan woman
seated herself and gazed up at Jack from beneath elegant, slanted
brows.  "Is that how you feel about it?"
     "That," said Jack, "was how he felt about it.  What would you
call that kind of violation?  Your body and mind possessed by an
overwhelming evil, unable to resist, stripped of all human dignity,
becoming a puppet, a pawn--do you have any idea how that would
feel?"  Her voice lowered, so that only Barnabas and T'Pryn could
hear.  "He told us once--my mother and I.  I cried.  She cried. 
Then he cried.  Jean-Luc Picard, weeping like a beaten child.  Do
you understand me?"
     "Captain," said Nikctalos's metallic voice from above.  "Do
you wish me to resign my--"
     "No!"  Jack whirled on him.  "I said it once, Mr. D'Pyrann,
and I meant it.  I need you here.  Don't mistake me.  You are not
part of the Borg consciousness.  You rebelled against them.  The
enemy of my enemy is my friend.  I will never forget that, and
neither will you.  Stay as you are, Lieutenant!"
     "The ability to discern friend from foe so precisely suggests
an almost Vulcan degree of logic," said T'Pryn.  "I believe you
will be an adequate Captain, Jacqueline Picard."
     "Thank you," said Jack grimly.  "Mr. D'Pyrann, take the Ops
console.  I want full sensor readings on the Borg ship.  Keep me
informed of any fluctuations in their electromagnetic field.  Mr.
Slike, drop to impulse power.  Mr. Salek, prepare to engage
cloaking device on my signal, half-power only."  She sat down in
the Captain's chair, her hands gripping the padded arms, shoulders
pressing back hard.
     "Half-power only?" asked Barnabas as he sat down beside her.
     Jack permitted herself a small smile.  "I want to lead them
out into open space as far as possible--we're too close to the
Starbase for my liking.  So we're going to tease them, Mr. Cole."
     "Receiving subspace communication from the Borg vessel," said
Salek sharply.
     "On screen, Mr. Salek."  Jack pushed herself up out of the
chair and strode toward the main viewer as the image of a vast
empty space surrounded by gleaming steel constructs appeared.  A
voice spoke, a voice like a hundred thousand dead men inexplicably
telling tales:  "Federation ship Enterprise NCC-1701-F.  Captain
Gabriele Lestat."
     "Your information's out of date," said Jack crisply.  "I am
Captain Jacqueline Picard.  What do you want?"
     "We have come to reclaim what is ours," said the Borg.
     "Captain," said Barnabas urgently.  She held up a hand for
silence.
     "And what would that be?" she said.
     "The unit number 889 349 246 345 001 is of Borg.  You have
severed it from us.  We require it."
     Nikctalos stiffened.  "No," he said in a flat voice.
     "Peace, Mr. D'Pyrann," said Jack.  Turning back to the viewer
she said, "That unit is no longer in service to the Borg
consciousness.  It is independent.  It has chosen to be free."
     "Independence is irrelevant.  Choice is irrelevant.  Freedom
is irrelevant.  The unit will be returned."
     "Captain!" barked Salek, as a Borg materialized behind him. 
He vaulted the Technical console with surprising skill, drew his
phaser, and fired.  The Borg crumpled and disappeared.
     "For a continually developing civilization," said Jack dryly
to the Borg on-screen, "you don't learn very quickly, do you?  A
valiant effort, I must say.  But let me tell you this right now; if
you want Nikctalos D'Pyrann, you're going to have to find him
first."  She watched out of the corner of her eye as Salek hurried
back to his Tactical console.  "Now," she said quietly, and with
one flick of Salek's hand the conversation was terminated, and the
_Enterprise_ became a ghost.
     "Mr. D'Pyrann.  How well will their sensors detect us?"
     Nikctalos's hands were flying over the Ops console.  "I am
programming a staccato high-frequency pattern which will hinder
their sensor readings.  They will be able to maintain pursuit, but
88.501% of their systems will be directed toward locating us."
     "Good.  Let's not make it any easier for them.  Helmsman,
execute Bowman-4 sequence."  She moved back to the chair and sat
down.  "I hope everybody ate a light lunch," she said, "because
we're going on a roller coaster ride."
     "Captain, if we are moving under impulse power they will be
able to detect us.  May I suggest we go to maximum cloaking?" said
Salek.
     Jack shook her head.  "We can't maintain a full cloak for
longer than 10.5 minutes with our current field technology.  Half-
cloak will have to do."  She tapped her communicator.  "Mr. Scott,
how long can you maintain current power levels to the cloaking
device?"
     "With shields at maximum, I'd give you twenty minutes," came
the reply.  "I'm trying to re-route power from the secondary life
support systems to buy us a little more time, but I can tell you
right now you can get twice as much mileage with the shields down."
     "Mr. D'Pyrann, will they be likely to fire?" asked Jack.
     Nikctalos hesitated.  "I cannot give you an accurate answer
without accessing the Borglink, and if I access the Borglink they
will locate me.  They may possess me.  They are trying to possess
me now."
     "Then give us a guess, Mr. D'Pyrann!" said Barnabas.
     T'Pryn got up from her chair and moved to Nikctalos.  He
flinched as her palms touched his temples.  "Be still," she said. 
"I will not harm you."  She closed her eyes.  Nikctalos's hands
hovered over the console a moment, then resumed programming at
double speed.
     "They will not fire," he said.  "The risk of destroying the
unit they came to seek would be too great.  You may lower your
shields."
     "Mr. Salek," said Barnabas with a nod, and the Romulan officer
powered down the shields.
     "What are you doing, Counsellor?" asked Jack, watching the
slender Vulcan woman standing behind the Borg.
     "I am using my limited telepathic skills to shield him from
the Borg assault," she said in a distant voice.  "They are
powerful.  They batter at his mind."
     Barnabas glanced at Jack.  She nodded, and he touched his
badge.  "Dr. N'Dok, report to the bridge."
     "On my way," said James.
     "What is your intent?" asked T'Pryn and Nikctalos at the same
time, in almost the same voice.  Jack found it more than a little
unnerving.
     "James may be able to ease the stress a little," she said. 
"He's been studying the neural couplings that make up the Borglink
to your mind.  We're aware that if we were to sever them you would
cease to exist, but we may be able, with your help, to disrupt some
of the non-essential functions of the link and weaken their
assault.  Are you agreed?"
     "It can be done," said Nikctalos.  "Yes.  I am agreed."
     "It must be done soon," said T'Pryn.  "They are relying on
their link with him to continue pursuit of this vessel.  That is
how they found us."
     "I should not be here," said Nikctalos.  "I endanger the
ship."
     "It's too late for that now, Mr. D'Pyrann," said Jack.  "Just
hang on.  Everything's going to be all right."  
     And for a moment, she almost believed it...  


From:  Lt. (JG) Konnu
  To:  All
Subj:  When the going gets tough...

     Meanwhile on the bridge of the Picard...
     "Brother," Lt. Konnu reported from the tactical station, 
"We are closing with the Borg vessel."
     "Good." Captain Krador's chair swivels around to face his
younger brother.  Their father Kern had always told them that it
was their place to serve the Empire, that they had no business
being on or even near a Federation Starship. But that time when
they were 13 and 10, when their uncle had come to visit, had
changed not only their minds but the stubborn will of their father
Kern. Worf had shown them all that honour could be obtained under
any banner that you could follow, all that mattered was that you,
the warrior were true and loyal to your fellow warriors. Krador saw
the man which was their uncle in the man that stood at the tactical
station. He secretly wanted to tell Konnu that he approved of his
decision to join Starfleet, but that would have to wait for now.
Kern waited too long and took his approval for his youngest son to
the grave with him.
     "What is the Enterprise doing?" Krador asks.
     "Hmmm... It appears that they are leading the Borg away from
the vicinity of their starbase. The Borg are either unaware of our
presence, or, they are choosing to ignore us. We will be within
firing range in wait..."
     "What is it Konnu?"
     "The Borg ship is no longer maintaining its electromagnetic
field!"  Konnu grins, "We could beam over and implement our
other... option." 
     "Yes, take twelve warriors and as many detonite bombs as you
can, and hurry, the Borg will find the Enterprise soon."
     "Permission to take a local transporter pattern enhancer."
     "What for?" Krador was beginning to grow impatient.
     "We can set it up around our explosives, it will ensure that
the Borg do not try to remove our bombs."
     "Very good. Now go!" With that Konnu turned and left for the
transporter room.
                          *   *   *
     The transporter beam dissipated with a faint humming noise,
leaving its `cargo' standing in a corridor in the Borg ship. The 12
warriors automatically drew their disruptors, and anxiously picked
up their satchels full of explosives. Konnu activated his tricorder
and began scanning the ship. He would scan as much of the ship as
possible, in order to increase the Federation's and the Empire's
knowledge of these... beings. Konnu walked a few steps forward and
stood in front of a motionless Borg soldier who was standing in
some form of link up booth to the Borg uni-mind.
     "Interesting." Konnu said to no one in particular.
     "They do not defend their ship!" said one warrior, G'arech.
"They are fools!"
     "These are the ones who destroyed 40 Federation ships, with
only one of their ships. We may be the fools." Konnu replied. A
sudden beep from his tricorder drew his attention.
     "These conduits, that run along the ceiling," Konnu said to
the warriors, "carry power supplies throughout the ship. I think
they meet in some sort of mainline junction, 50 millicams from
here. Follow me!" With that Konnu shouldered the transporter field
enhancer and led the Warriors down the hall.

     Meanwhile, several decks above the Klingon boarding party,
Borg number 543,394,452,982,023 stood in front of a large abyss in
the center of the ship. Across the width and length of this abyss
were displayed two tactical displays. The largest display was a
representation of the space directly ahead of the Borg ship. There
was a slight distortion in space several centons in front of the
ship, but before the distortion could be analyzed and found to be
the Enterprise, NCC-1701-F, the faint shimmering had disappeared.
The other display screen showed several theoretical suppositions in
computation. These suppositions contained ideas about what the
Enterprise was doing. Borg number
543,394,452,982,023 concentrated on this screen. 
     The Borg's best guess right now was that the Enterprise might
be using a device which alters the path of light around their ship,
thus rendering them undetectable. Unknown: how long this effect
might last. Unknown: power required for this irrelevant tactic.
Known: The Enterprise has maintained the effect for 13.34567245656
cyclons. Known: Method of propulsion - Primitive fusion powered
impulse drives. Known: Such drives leave residual ion trails.
Action: Scan for such ion trails. It would not be long now.
     Suddenly, a smaller screen superimposed itself on the other
two. It displayed power conduit 2, level 276. Thirteen Klingon
beings were affixing unknown devices to the conduit. Probable
purpose: demolitions. Power conduit's destination: Sub-light drive
and shields. Priority: Raise electromagnetic field, capture
intruders, dispose of alien devices.
                       *      *      *
     "Hurry! They must have noticed us by now!" Konnu shouts to the
warriors, as he sets up the third and final transporter pattern
enhancer. A warrior approaches him, holding a Klingon communicator.
     "It is the Picard!" the warrior grunts as he hands the
communicator to Konnu.
     "This is Konnu. Go ahead Picard."
     "Konnu! They have raised their electromagnetic field!" Krador
shouted over the static filled communicator.
     "Then we are trapped!"
     "No! stand inside the pattern enhancer's perimeter! We can
beam you back, but we can only take six at a time!"
     "Very well. The explosives are in place. Beam me back last.
Konnu out."  Konnu hands the communicator back to the warrior and
together they  rejoin the other warriors.
     "Look! Borg soldiers!" a warrior cries out. The Borg were
calmly walking towards the loaded conduit and the boarding party
from four separate directions. The warriors began firing and
succeeded in cutting down the first wave of Borg. Suddenly the area
was filled with the familiar light of transporter beams. Six
warriors were gone.
     "Use your concussion grenades!" A warrior shouted over the
disruptor fire as the second wave of Borg began arriving.
     "NO! You fools! We can't use grenades so close to the bombs!"
Konnu shouted out.
     "Our disruptors are not effective any more!" warrior G'arech
blared, "Long live the empire!" With that G'arech drew his combat
blade and charged the nearest Borg soldier. The other warriors
followed suit, and dropping their disruptors flew into the Borg
assault with their blades flashing. 
     The transporter beam found Konnu, and tried unsuccessfully to
bring him back to the Picard. For a moment, he fleetingly saw the
transporter room, but it soon faded away leaving Konnu back on the
Borg ship. He quickly realised that the Borg's shields and E.M.
jamming were preventing the ship from locking onto him or any of
the other warriors. He also realised that the Picard will take the
remaining landing party for dead and that it would soon attack. 
     He picked up the remote detonator and set it for one minute.
Konnu threw the detonator to the floor and smashed it with his
heel. He aimed his disruptor at the floor of the deck and fired,
ripping a hole in it. He looked again at his comrades fighting the
Borg. All he saw was a mass of Borg swarming the Klingons. He could
hear their screams as they were captured. He jumped through the
hole in the deck, escape was the only thing on his mind.
     Konnu grunted with pain as he landed on the deck below. A
sharp piece of metal had slashed the back of his shoulder. The back
of his yellow-black uniform was already soaked with purple-red
blood. He tried to ignore the pain and began to run through the
corridors as fast as he could. Only 30 seconds remained before the
explosives went off. They would detonate even sooner if the Borg
tampered with them. Konnu ran faster. He had only one hope for
survival. As soon as the bombs exploded, if enough damage had been
done, the Borg's E.M. field might go down, if it did, the
Enterprise could beam him aboard. He tapped the Starfleet
communicator on his chest.
     "Enterprise! Come in!"
     "Enterprise here. Identify yourself!" a female voice demanded.
Konnu was about to reply, rather harshly, but a nearby explosion
sent him tumbling to the floor. Borg Soldiers were behind him,
firing bolts of energy at the fleeing Klingon. Konnu picked himself
up, and retrieved his tricorder which had fallen.  He fired his
disruptor at the floor in front of the advancing Borg soldiers. he
had hit some sort of gas conduit. The Borg were enveloped by a blue
vapour. Only twenty seconds remained.   "Enterprise?! Request
emergency transport!" Konnu shouted. There was a reply, but it was
drowned out by more near misses from the borg soldiers. Konnu was
tiring at this point, but he kept running. Suddenly a voice boomed
throughout the Borg ship:
     "Escape is irrelevant. Your actions are irrelevant. Disarm
your explosives and prepare to be assimilated."
     "I would die first!" Konnu gasped in reply. The Borg must be
bluffing... those explosives could not be removed, could not be
beamed off the ship... the tricorder indicated that power going
through that main junction could not be re-routed anywhere in less
than half an hour... 5 seconds.
     The pursuing Borg were  still firing.
     4 seconds.
     Konnu stumbled and almost fell.
     3 seconds.
     A Borg beam hit Konnu in the leg. He fell to the ground. His
leg was numb... some sort of stun beam...
     2 seconds.
     The borg soldiers stood over him. Konnu aimed his disruptor at
his own head, but one of the soldiers knocked it out of his hands.
     1 second.
     "Death is irrelevant." The Borg voice said. The soldiers bent
over to take Konnu.
     Detonation.
     A massive explosion rocked the ship... the lights faded in the
ship... the Borg soldiers were knocked down to the floor. Konnu
could hear the sound of the ships atmosphere escaping into space.
He struggled to a post that looked fixed and held on as tight as he
could. The Klingon looked behind him and saw that 200 meters away
existed the vastness of space. Suddenly the Borg were blown into
space. Konnu could feel an enormous pressure inside his lungs. He
also felt something holding onto his bad leg. He looked and saw a
Borg soldier holding onto his leg, trying to avoid being blown out
of the ship. 
     `I have had enough of you!' Konnu thought to himself, as he
kicked the Borg in the face. Blood splashed all over the Borg's
agonized face, his grip lessened and he flew towards space. Konnu
couldn't believe what he saw... a Borg had displayed emotion!
Konnu's thoughts were brought back to his present predicament as he
felt his own grip loosen... Consciousness was also a problem as it
began to leave the Klingon..... `Enterprise...' he thought just
before he blacked out.


From:  Capt. Jacqueline Picard
  To:  All
Subj:  Sticky Situations

     "I am picking up unusual life readings on the Borg ship," said
Nikctalos suddenly.  "They appear to be Klingon."
     "The Picard," said Barnabas.  Jack nodded.  "What are they
doing, Lieutenant?"
     "They are spreading out.  They carry detonite devices."
     "Time-bombs?" asked Jack.
     Barnabas looked grim.  "Maybe, but they'll have to die
defending them.  The Borg are fast.  The most a Klingon away team
could hope to do would be to make a stand with randomized phasers
and hold the Borg off until just before the bombs explode.  Unless
they've got a transporter chief with split-second reflexes, they're
doomed."
     "Never underestimate the durability of Klingons," said Jack. 
"I learned that on an exchange program once."  Her hand slid
automatically to the long scar on her neck.  Barnabas looked at her
curiously, but said nothing.
     "Captain," said Nikctalos in a dead voice, "the bombs are
detonating -- aaaah!"  He convulsed and fell out of his chair,
twitching.
     Jack whirled and saw James standing in the turbolift door. 
"Doctor!" she snapped.  "Get this man down to sickbay!  Do whatever
it takes to keep him alive!"
     "I will go with him," said T'Pryn.  She and James hefted
Nikctalos to his feet and half-carried, half-dragged him back to
the turbolift.  Barnabas glanced at Jack and slid behind the Ops
console, his gleaming fingers flying over the touchpad.  "Half the
Klingons are gone," he said.  "Vaporized or transported, I don't
know.  The Borg ship has suffered extensive damage to the core
area, but it's still functional.  It's regenerating--"
     "Captain!" said Salek urgently.
     "What is it?"
     "Receiving Starfleet communicator signal from on board the
Borg ship."
     "Open frequency."
     "Enterprise!  Come in!" panted a deep, guttural voice.
     "Enterprise here," said Jack.  "Identify yourself."
     "Identify--"  An explosive sound, and the signal was cut off.
     Jack tapped her badge.  "Transporter Room Two, lock onto the
com-badge on the Borg ship and prepare to transport."
     "Aye, sir."
     "Who could it possibly be?" demanded Barnabas.  "We don't have
any people over there--"
     "I don't know," said Jack.  "But if we can get a fix--"
     "Enterprise!" growled the voice.  "Request emergency
transport!"
     "Ensign!" snapped Jack.  "What are you waiting for?  Beam that
man up!"
     "Trying, sir--the signal's weak--I'm losing him!  We're
getting interference from the cloaking device!"
     "The last bomb has detonated," said Barnabas. "The Borg's
electromagnetic shields are back down."
     "Drop cloak, Mr. Salek!" commanded Jack.  "Ensign?  Did you
get a fix on that man?"
     "Got him!  Beaming straight to sickbay."
     "Good," said Jack.
     "Enemy vessel appears incapacitated," said Maverint Slike from
the helm.
     Jack turned back toward the main viewer.  The Borg ship, once
so sleek and formidable, was now charred and pitted with the force
of the explosions that had rent it from within.  Yet she could see
it regenerating even as she watched.
     "Detonite bombs," said Barnabas wonderingly.  "Why didn't your
father's crew think of that?"
     "They probably would have if they hadn't been afraid of
killing my father," said Jack. "They'd have lost a good many
crewmen on the Borg ship, too.  It takes a Klingon to think of a
plan like that, and have the guts to carry it out."  She turned to
Salek.  "Raise shields and launch a full spread of photon torpedoes
at the Borg ship on my command."
     Salek nodded.  "Torpedoes armed and ready."
     "Fire!" said Jack.  
     The Borg ship, fifty times larger than the Enterprise, gave
not a quiver as the torpedoes detonated against its metal hull.
     "Klingon ship de-cloaking to starboard," said Maverint. 
"Firing phasers at the Borg."
     The phasers tore long strips off the face of the Borg ship,
but there was no response.  "Why don't they go?" asked Barnabas. 
"They've got to know by now that we're not going to give Nikctalos
to them."
     "They can't go," said Jack softly.  "They don't have what they
want.  Defeat is irrelevant to the Borg.  They acknowledge only
victory, or death."
     "Then how do we persuade them to leave?" asked Salek.
     "I don't know," said Barnabas.  "But the longer we sit here in
stalemate, the more time they've got to recover.  I estimate
twenty-five minutes before they've regenerated enough to strike
back.  What do you suggest, Captain?"
     "Prayer," said Jack grimly.

From:  Counsellor T'Pryn
  To:  Lt. (JG) Konnu
Subj:  Hello...

     T'Pryn, her hands cupped around Nikctalos' metal-encased head,
watched silently as Dr. N'Dok, his boyish face grave, ran his
medical tricorder over the Borg.
     "Physically he's in perfect condition--for what he is," said
James.  "But this Borglink is shutting down his neural networks."
     "He's having to shut himself down himself," said T'Pryn
quietly.  "In order to keep them out, he must retreat further into
himself.  But he cannot keep from feeling the shared pain of the
Borg as they suffer and die.  That, too, is causing his distress."
     "We've got to find some way to cut him off from the Borg, or
disrupt the signal, or--"
     "They communicate via subspace frequencies, correct?"
     "As nearly as we can figure, yes.  I could put him in an iso-
chamber, shut them out completely.  But that would kill him unless
his cybernetic components were removed.  I've got no right to do
that without his consent."
     "It is not logical--" began T'Pryn, but stopped as a familiar
shimmering of light caught her eye.  "They have beamed someone
down," she said.
     At that same moment Jack's voice echoed in the room:  "Picard
to N'Dok.  We've got a wounded Starfleet officer for you.  We
picked him off the Borg ship."
     "Got him," said James.  "Kate!  We've got a Klingon in trouble
here!"
     "Aye, sir," said Katherine Tanthis, her pretty face lined with
concern.  She quickly left the computer screen she'd been
consulting and hurried over to tend the Klingon's numerous wounds.
     "Now," James said, turning his attention back to Nikctalos. 
"Lieutenant, can you hear me?"
     "Af...fir...ma...tive," said the Borg faintly.
     "We need to get you separated from the Borglink.  Not
entirely, just enough to get you functioning again.  Counsellor
T'Pryn is going to help me, but I'll need your help too in
rerouting some of the neural pathways.  You've got to tell me
what's safe and what's not."
     "Under...stood."
     James glanced up at T'Pryn.  She nodded gravely.  James took
a neural probe and, with one eye on the scanner, carefully began to
unlock the secrets of Nikctalos's tortured mind.  T'Pryn closed her
eyes and went deeper.
     She was not a telepath in the sense that a full-fledged
Betazoid would be, but like all Vulcans she had the ability to meld
her mind with that of another on any one of several levels, to lend
her mental strength to those who needed it.  She did that for
Nikctalos now.  She did not pry into his thoughts, but she wrapped
her mental discipline around his consciousness, sheltering him from
the onslaught of the Borglink.  She could feel the Borg battering
at her shields, cold and relentless.  But they could not command
her, and she did not fear them.  She gave Nikctalos the things he
would understand:  _What is the square root of 5089?  If n=4 and
y=6.5, what is the value of z in the equation 6z X 42^y = 8n?_ 
Anything to keep him from thinking about the Borg.
     "I've found what looks like a subspace frequency receiver in
the left hemisphere," murmured James.  "I'm injecting 0.0005
milligrams of betaparazine--now.  Nikctalos?"
     "I am... well," came the reply.  "Proceed."
     James was sweating.  T'Pryn without a second thought took up
the hem of her long blue skirt and drew it across his brow.  He
gave her a startled, grateful look and continued his probing.
     "I am on board the Enterprise," came the Klingon's voice from
the other side of the room.  "My thanks, Doctor."
     T'Pryn lifted her head a moment to see the Klingon, now fully
conscious, swinging his legs around to sit on the edge of the
table.  Dr. Tanthis was still running a dermasealer over his more
serious wounds, but he seemed strong and alert, unconcerned by his
narrow brush with death.  "I am Lieutenant Konnu," he said.  "I was
scheduled to rendezvous with the Enterprise at Starbase 643.  It
would seem I have arrived a little earlier than planned."
     "Ah, well," said James without lifting his head, "What's a
couple of days?  Welcome aboard, Lieutenant.  What's your
specialty?"
     "I am experienced in tactical and security duties."
     James's eyebrows shot skyward.  T'Pryn contemplated this
display with grave incomprehension until the Chief Medical Officer
leaned closer and said in a low voice, "Salek is gonna love this."
     Sarcasm was not a Vulcan trait, but T'Pryn was familiar with
the concept.


From:  Moriarty
  To:  All
Subj:  No, Honest, I'm Here...

     Moriarty soaked up all the incoming data on the Borg ship,
turned it over and over in his mind, cross-checked it against the
ship's conventional weaponry, theoretically improvised new
weaponry, plotted evasive manoeuvres, everything his computer-
enhanced genius could come up with.  But in the end he came up
frustrated.  It wasn't the ideas that were the problem:  he had
thousands.  But all of them seemed to require items that for one
reason or another just weren't available--or at least couldn't be
available in time to be any use at all.
     Until he remembered the invaluable little creatures Dr. N'Dok
had corralled in a disused corner of the medical computer's memory. 
Dormant now, but it would take so very little to wake them up, and
-- 
 "Seize the moment, Mirabor...Seize the moment" -- Picard 
   "The closer to the solution, The more problems occur"   
              Even *I* don't want my opinions
    All Flames/E-mail to ueh@sunyit.edu until I graduate.... 
Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative