Star Trek: Season 8 - The Perfect Reflection

Started by Jen, August 22, 2008, 09:07:05 PM

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His eyes had gone dark all over the ship. All the cameras Locke had installed through out the Tiberius no long were open to him. He was loosing his advantages. Now that Locke was gone, all Reese's affiliations with the Empire were gone as well. He was no longer in the know. He had no connection aboard this ship, that is the way Locke had planned it. If Reese was to be the best henchman he would have no friends outside of Locke to stop him from doing his job. Reese wasn't entirely sure what to do. He was so used to having a knowledge of everything that happened abroad the ship that this felt strange to him. He still had his self installed audio taps, but they were few and he knew that things were beginning to grow far more challenging for him the longer he remained aboard. His plan incase the Empire was ever killed was to join the new Empire as their henchmen, if that wasn't possible run. He wasn't sure how Sevryll would respond to him, he'd watched her rid the ship of Locke and knew with her in a position of power now she could easily rid the ship of his simple henchmen as well. He proceeded without the the knowledge he very much need to understand this new situation. His newly developing plan would have to be performed without the use of spy cameras. "If Sevryll planned to take the throne, I planned to dethrone our new Empress." Reese thought.


Joint post by Jen and Startrekfanatic5

Sevryll could not feel doctor Peterson's presence and because of this, she feared the worse for her first ally and only friend. As she wandered about his empty quarters, waiting for Quinn to arrive, she studied the limited mementos the doctor kept within his sparse cabin. Most of the items she examined were images of Casey and his wife.  Myella had suffered and died by Joseph D'Callan's hands and for years Casey Peterson bore the agony of  her loss. His grief was a salty emotion that permeated Sevryll's psychic perception of him.  That zest was missing, and the intuitive flavor of the ship was now bland. The Vulcan lifted a holoimage and stared down at the once happy couple then turned as she percieved Nathan Quinn and Rhys Peters slipping into the room.

Quinn instinctually approached the Vulcan, ready to grasp her shoulders in affection and relief. He knew that as a touch telepath his Sevryll did not encourage physical contact from anyone other than her relatives, but he did not care for after all they had been through, he considered her apart of his own family.  As Nathan stepped quickly toward her mirror counterpart, the woman drew back, unsure of his intensions. It was then he remembered that she was not the Vulcan he knew as Commander Sevryll. He stopped in his tracks, regarded the resemblance a moment and slowly extended his hand, "I'm Captain Nathan Quinn"...

The former mistress to the Emperor had rejected her Vulcan logic and with it, the traditions of her people. She was more than a mere touch telepath, and had no reservations with regards to the traditional Terran greeting.  She accepted his hand and inclined her head, "I am Sevryll." The Vulcan glanced to Rhys then back to Nathan and withdrew her hand, "Emperor Locke is no more...the Admiral and I have taken temporary control of the Empire."

"Good, then we can leave..." said Rhys. The smile that stretched his split lip should have been painful, but the relief he felt at the prospect of freedom numbed the pain. Sevryll shook her head slowly and pitched her gaze downward before slowly meeting Rhys's eyes, "No. The Cooperative has demanded a number of individuals in exchange for safe passage. Your names were on the Queen's list."

"And you're going to hand us over?!"  The smile had vanished from Rhys's face and his voice rose in anger.

Quinn lifted his hand to quiet his friend. He had heard Sevryll's thoughts, and knew that the opposite was true. "No, she couldn't do that...despite the danger, she and Talbot decided against it." He stared a moment into her dark eyes, listening to voices that Rhys could not hear. The quiet stretched a while longer before he spoke again, "You're expecting twins." He smiled, "a boy and a girl..." a silent exchange between the two followed, before she quietly added, "I've always liked those names."

Sevryll raised a brow then quietly turned and walked to a dark viewport. From where she stood she could see the Cooperative and Alliance ships moving amongst the Borg debris. After some time she glanced over her shoulder at Peters and Quinn, "they will come for you, Captain...and there will be little I can do to stop them."
Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast


Joint Post by Sheppard and HawkeyeMeds

The three crewmen huddled together in deep conversation in the lowest deck aboard the Tiberius.

"Have you not heard the rumours? I tell you something... I'm not standing for this anymore"

"What are you on about Michael? You've heard nothing."

"Are you deaf? Have you not heard about what's going on? Have you not heard about our fate?"

They all looked around as a senior officer walked past them. he ignored them, they were of no consequence to his duties. The group huddled back together and the woman who had been silent throughout the men's discussion, pitched in

"Will you two belt up. All you have heard is Chinese whispers. Where are the facts?"

Michael turned to Lorna.

"I have heard from one of the officers. They say the Emperor's Vulcan Mistress has taken over... a non terran in charge of this ship. I'm not working under her, she'll bring death to us all!!"

Lorna laughed, "You're paranoid. The Emperor is still in charge. Don't you think we'd have known if something that important had happened?"

"Lorna, Michael. Look over there..."

In the distance another crewman ran towards them. Once in front of them, he dropped his hands onto his knees to catch his breath, ""

The three looked at each other and Jones spoke first. "What Neekan? What have you heard?".

His breathing slowed down and the crewman slowly began to speak, "I've been up near the brig. I had some tech work to do. I saw the Vulcan, she was carrying the Emperor. I followed her and it looks like she transported him to the Borg, or the Klingons. She killed him!"

Michael's voice rose higher than before."I told you, I told you she was a bad one. She's taken charge of this ship!"

The others grew restless and this caused other crewmen to gather round and listen to what Neekan had to say.

"They are on the bridge now!"

The crowd grew and a voice shouted out.

"D'Callan will never allow a non-terran to take over, he'll kill her!"

Neekan raised his hand up to calm the shouts. "The Interrogator is missing, along with that bastard Margon. They have control of us, they have control of the ship, damn it they have the control of the Empire!"

The crowd began shouting . They had all signed up to fight for the Empire. From the back of the crowd stood a man smiling. He was watching the crowd grow restless. He listened as the man called Michael was lifted upon his friends shoulders.

"We cannot stand for this, we cannot let this happen. I'll be damned if a Vulcan and a Romulan will rule me. WHO'S WITH ME?"

The crowd burst into life.


The shouts echoed up. A phaser blast past Michael's over confident head silencing the crowd. Everyone turned around to see who fired the shot. In the back of the room stood the former Emporer's henchmen. His black armor shined in the lights, like a hero from beyond.

"You don't even have a clue what is really going on here, do you Michael Stanway?"

Michael looked around for  support from his previously cheering audience, but everyone stood in shock and surprise to see David Reese making his presence known. He usually spent his time avoiding the public eye.

"I do." A nervous tone was evident in Michael's voice, "The Emperors dead. We must avenge him." He shouted, looking for support.

"No, we must make sure this Empire doesn't crumble, due to his death. We must not let people who would bring an end to the Empire, rule it."

"You're talking mutiny aren't you? You want to lead a mutiny!"

Before Reese could get another word in the crowd began to shout his name. One by one each began to cheer. Soon the whole room was in support of the once simple henchmen. He was surprised by the instant support, proof of how fragmented the ship had become since the Emperor's fall. He wasn't looking for command, he came looking for allies to aid him, but if this is what it takes he was willing to do it. He composed himself, like a knight in his shining black armor he hid his shock from his people.

"This isn't the way I had planned it," Reese thought, "but it will do."


The spy opened the hatch from the Jeffries tube and slipped out. Only two more scent packets to place, she thought, as she adjusted the flowing vedek's robes that had been bunched around her middle to allow for the crawling that the cramped space mandated. She smiled as she thought of the sanitary facilities actually being improved by her adjustments. She listened to the voices in her mind. "Good. Everyone poops. Therefore, everyone has the same vulnerability."

Silently she passed through a door and stood in starlight from the window.  She then bent to touch the sleeping human on the floor. "Captain! Your time has come to shine. You must go to the bridge now."

He awoke immediately and kissed his fingers before caressing the hem of her robe. While it was well known that she slept in his bed, only they knew she did not share it.

Sleeping in his Alliance uniform, he was ready to appear on the bridge. She followed him there, chin high. No one noticed the tiny gill slits insinuated into the bajoran nose-ridges.

The crew worked in near-perfect unison throughout the fight. The captain hardly had to speak to coordinate their movements. After the battle, as the crew rejoiced in the Alliance victory, she activated the scent packets spread throughout the ship's facilities. The doors opened and the smells of tea, flowers, chocolate, and mother's milk flowed into the air. The crew had been patiently, subtly trained to react in specific ways to the scents the spy produced. While they were assuredly unaware of such training, they were conditioned to react. So it was with calm loyalty that, as one, they joined with the Cooperative.

Spring Farmer raised her arms and, using the seductive voice bestowed on her by the Cooperative, stated the standard welcome.  "Your presence here brings us joy as we embrace our new friends. Your solitary days of lonely wandering are over. Lower your shields and experience the ecstasy of the Cooperative. From this day forward, your life will be one of unity and dedication. Relax and be welcome."


"I'm turning myself over," said Quinn as the ruminants of a dim smile faded from his expression.

"What?!  You can't be serious!" Shouted Rhys.

"It's the only option," replied Nathan.

"No! It's not! We can fight!"

Concerned that others would overhear their conversation, the Vulcan spoke up. "Please refrain from shouting, " she said in a cool, authoritative tone.

Rhys fired a belligerent glower at Sevryll and lowered his voice to a quiet growl, "I don't work for you anymore and I don't recognize your position as 'Interim Empress' or... whatever you're calling it."

The svelte woman turned her head slowly to meet Peters' fierce glare, "I have no title nor I do not desire one." She stepped away from the viewport and moved toward Quinn,   "You do not understand what you are sacrificing, Captain. The Borg Collective is nothing more than a group of disorganized thugs compared to the methodical nature of the Cooperative.  They thrive on the genetic contributions from beings such as yourself.  The power Aria would gain through the acquisition of your abilities, would make her inexorable."

The name struck Nathan like a heavy fisted blow, "Aria? Aria heads the Cooperative?"

"Yes," replied Sevryll, intrigued by his apparent familiarity with the Cooperative Queen.

"In my universe, she was...I mean, she is your daughter...your cloned daughter. Commander Sevryll's first daughter was lost to a shift in the  timeline, but before she vanished her katra was saved and later given to a binary clone. Perhaps we could use your relation to Aria to our advantage," he mused.

Rhys Peters frowned and silently mouthed the word 'WHAT', in frustration and shock. He was baffled by what he heard, but refrained from interrupting. He circled them slowly as they spoke—listening intensely for anything that would help him piece together the puzzle of Nathan Quinn.

Sevryll quirked an eyebrow at Quinn's statement, "I have no children other than the ones I carry, Captain. There is an obvious physical resemblance between myself and Aria, yet the reason for that similarity has remained a mystery to me. I have sensed her favor for me. Though there is no relationship between us, she views me as a parent. I attempted to use this to bargain for the Tiberius...yet only the mention of her 'siblings' evoked emotion and altered her decision. I am dispensable, but she holds my unborn children in high regard. "

Quinn rubbed his chin in thought. Could the Cooperative Queen be a clone in this universe as well? A thought surfaced in his mind,"Do you know an Aeric James?  In my universe he was Aria's father. Later, his DNA was used to create the binary clone."

Sevryll replied emphatically, "No."

Rhys glanced from Nathan to Sevryll in confusion, "Who cares who the Queen's mum and dad are?! Let's get off this ship before she shows up to induct us both into her cultish family!"

Quinn crossed his arms, "discovering Aria's origin could be the key to our survival, Rhys." And with that he stretched his powerful mind in search of the mysterious queen.

Founding co-host of the Anomaly Podcast



David Reese strode down the metal steps to stand before his supporters. The mob went silent upon his approach, eagerly awaiting his great words.

Michael approached him, "What now?"

Reese met the crewman's gaze. "A coup," he replied. The henchman could see these people were the lowest of the low— mistreated and uncared for. Now they had someone to believe in, someone who gave them the respect they deserved and he would lead them into a new Empire. This was what his father would have wanted for his son... power and the devotion of loyal followers.

"Emperor Locke once breathed new life into our dead Empire, but he is now gone...murdered by aliens.  Our new leaders will bring ruin to what Locke worked so hard to revive! Our enemies are waiting to deliver the final you believe these traitors will defend your home world?! "

The crowd was chanting,  "NO!!! Down with Talbot! Down with Sevryll!"

"This ship is commanded by non-Terrans! NONE are trustworthy! You know what you must do! RID THIS SHIP of ALL who oppose us! Kill ANYONE who gets in your way! We take this vessel and the Empire or die trying!"

The mob roared.

"The new Terran Empire begins here!" He shouted over the angry din.

Reese fell silent, allowing the mob's moment of rapture to build into a rabid frenzy. He then turned back to Michael and Lorna, "the time has now come. Michael you know your mission...take engineering at all costs. Lorna get to the bridge... eliminate Talbot and Zremm and take command of the ship. Once we control the Emperor's Flagship...the fleet and the Empire will be ours!"

The Emperor's henchman turned to go, "Where are you going?" Michael inquired.

"I have a debt to repay..."

Michael and Lorna gathered their teams and departed the room, leaving five of the strongest and most dangerous crewmen behind. These were the men Reese hand picked to help him take out Talbot's guards—the soldiers who stood watch over Sevryll.

They took their positions around him as he stepped out of the room and strode down the corridor for turbolift.

"Computer, do I have access to the internal sensors?"

"Access to the internal sensor information is granted to David Reese."

The henchman smiled, his followers had contacts on the bridge, who
regained his access to ship-wide security. He was very please to be back
in 'the know'.

"Computer, locate the Mistress Sevryll."

"Sevryll is in Doctor Peterson's quarters."

"How many people are in the room?"

"Two... Rhys Peters and an unknown non-Terran."

"What about outside the room?"

"There are two: John Prie..."

"That's all I need to know." He didn't care who the guards were. Two men weren't going to be a problem for Reese and his team. He knew he could complete his task with no trouble. He only hoped the others would as well. He led his team into a turbolift and set off to Peterson's quarters.


As the Thalaron generator buried deep within its engineering room neared critical mass, Vass' ship altered its course.  Skirting the gravity-well of the nearby planet Teross, the Klingon ship swung around and accelerated towards the command vessel of the Borg Cooperative's fleet.

In the corridor leading away from the ship's bridge, Two Klingon guards struggled with a disheveled Terran slave.  While he tried to present a detached, stoic mien, the slave couldn't help but flinch as a Klingon guard's fist smashed into his gut.  As the man doubled over, a second guard trapped his neck in the crook of his arm, pinning his head in place with a vice-like grip. 

The overwhelming stench of the warrior's sweat-stained leathers and body odor, combined with the fumes issuing from his decaying, yellow-toothed mouth, nearly served to knock the slave into submission.   A series of brutal kicks to his ribs finished the job.  A final kick yielded a sickening, muffled crack, followed by a knifing jolt of biting agony.  The slave's attempt to cradle his aching side was interrupted as the two guards violently grasped his arms, dragging him backwards down the corridor.   His bare heels bounced painfully on the cold steel deck plating, and as he gazed up at the smoke-stained ceiling panels rushing past, his vision teetered on the edge of darkness. 

"Tugh Ha'!  HIchDal wIghoStaH!" 

The slave frowned in confusion.  The words barely registered.  Despite his having grown up a slave of the Klingons, the pain of his shattered rib was clouding his thoughts. The man had to struggle to piece together the guard's meaning.

'wIghoStaH'.   'We are approaching'.

Approaching what? 

'HichDal'. The word had something to do with ship functions..

The slave shook his head in an effort to clear it.  He had the feeling that he was missing something important, but the nagging urge to react was overshadowed by the temptation to slip away into the pain-free realm of unconsciousness.

And then it hit him.

'HichDal' meant 'Airlock'They really intended to space him!

Fear over his rapidly approaching demise flooded the slave with a surge of adrenaline.  Adrenaline, and a flood of microscopic Borg gifts bestowed on him by Aria. 

A feeling of strength and well being washed over the slave, and as his broken ribs began to knit back together, he gave an eerie cackle.

"This PetaQ has finally lost his mind," one of the guards remarked. 

His lip curled into a cruel sneer.  "That's right, keep laughing, K'Tan.  You're about to go for a nice little trip outside to stretch your legs, maybe get a little fresh air."

As the trio drew towards the portal leading to the airlock, K'Tan began to convulse.  The guards tightened their grip on him, and were alarmed to see his skin writhing; it was as though his muscles had taken on a life of their own and were struggling to break free of their fleshy prison.

"Blessed are the gifts of the cooperative," The slave muttered with a smile.

As the guards began to shout in alarm, K'Tan halted their progress, standing upright and lifting each Klingon free of the deck.  He then pivoted at the waist, smashing both warriors face-first into the metal wall of the corridor.  As the two guards slid to the floor in an unconscious heap, K'Tan turned and took off at a sprint, his bare feet slapping rhythmically on the steel deck plating. 

As he drew near the bridge, his smile grew into an insane-looking grin of joy. 


Michael's Team.

Running through the corridors Michael shouted at his team, he had been lucky so far and had not been hindered by any resistance to their mutiny.

From behind he heard a cry and then a splash of sparks. Turning he saw two of his team fall, phaser burns spread across their chests.


Michael pushed a crewman in front of him and then fired from over his shoulder. His phaser fire hit the security guard in the face. The crewman in front of dropped to his knees and double tapped his phaser hitting the second guard perfectly. Michael slapped him n the shoulder.

"Excellent shooting"

The crewman looked up and simply shrugged.

Standing near to the raised entrance walkway to main engineering he held his hand up.

"Lads, this is it. Jones. What do you see?"

Jones lent out and peered around the corner, two guards stood to attention but the main doors to engineering were open allowing several crewmen to walk in and out carrying various panels. Jones concentrated on a new team that walked out, they carried a large box and headed straight towards them.

"Michael, a team are heading our way carrying a service box, this is our chance"

Michael nodded and they slipped into the shadows to await the engineering team. As they turned the corner they waited a few seconds before pouncing out and silently knocking the men unconscious. A few minutes later clothes had been exchanged and one of the men hid in the service box.

This is comical thought Michael as they casually walked past the security guards at the main entrance. The recent battle had hit engineering very hard and people worked hard to get the damage fixed and thus no one had noticed the strangers. Michael hit the top of the box and the lid flew open and out jumped one of the mutineers. Firing his phaser he hit one of the passing engineers knocking him out. The sound of the blast signaled the other men who ran around the corner and immediately took out the surprised security officers. Michael ran to his left while Jones went to the right and and they took command of engineering.

Walking to the main engineering control panel Micheal looked at the flashing lights and various images that flickered on screen. This meant nothing to him and he did not care. His job was to take out engineering, and engineering was now in his charge.


Lorna's Team

Leaving Michael and the henchman Reese had worried her, she had only just been in discussions about a mutiny and now she was in charge of a rag tag team heading to the main bridge to murder the Admiral. Doubt crept in her mind and she began to slow down and then to a stop. She stood and looked back at her team who in turn began to look around, she dipped her head slightly and as she went to speak a phaser blast hit her friend Neekan in the neck killing him instantly.
Lorna cried out and this suddenly fired up her team, they all shouted and jumped over their fallen comrade. Lorna spun round and ran at the laughing security, the taller of the two went to swipe her but she ducked and punched him straight in the groin and as he fell she punched his neck cracking his larynx. The second guard went to shoot her but he was jumped upon by a frenzied crowd who ripped at his clothes and began to tear at him.

Lorna looked at the guards body as he was thrown into the air, she was shocked that she found herself enjoying the spectacle.

"MOVE ON!!!!" she shouted.

The torn body of the guard lay still and motionless as the second mutiny unit headed to the main bridge turbo lift. Tears dropped down her cheeks as she ran, her friend had just been murdered, her life had been turned upside down and now the Empire that she knew was being taken over by aliens. She punched the turbo lift door and spun round.

"This is it, ARE YOU WITH ME?"

The team screamed obedience and the turbo lift door opened and they calmly walked in. Standing in the middle of the crowd her phaser held to her cheek she rubbed the metal against her skin and closed her eyes, she could feel the pulse of the turbo lift as it headed upwards, her heart began to beat, faster and faster and faster. The adrenalin pumped through her veins and beads of sweat began to develop on her brow. She began to bounce a little on the balls of her feet and opening her eyes she glared at the door and watched,, as it drifted open.


Joint Post by Jen, Just X, and Startrekfanatic5

The art of persuasion was one of Aria's many talents. Depending on Quinn's mindset, her suggestive remarks had the potential of enticing him to do any number of things. The Captain was the more powerful telepath, but Aria was cunning and seductive making her all the more dangerous.

Reaching out to the Cooperative queen was a risky venture and the stakes were high...  too high for Sevryll. It would be better to end his life and destroy the body, than permit him to fall into the Cooperative's hands. But she couldn't bring herself to kill the Captain. She didn't know Quinn, but she sensed qualities within the newcomer that intrigued her, and those qualities encouraged her trust. 

Aria severed the operative's link to the hive after the Vulcan rejected her Queen. Sevryll no longer felt the comfort of the Cooperative's order, but the door was left open and the agent knew her way home.  She glanced to Quinn—his eyes were closed and his mind was focused.

Nathan began to twitch as he struggled against the current of unified Cooperative minds. Sevryll recognized his involuntary movements as a side effect of the hive link. Sevryll's involvement had the potential to increase Quinn's chances of success. She quickly determined to reinforce Quinn's effort. She would monitor the exchange between the two and if necessary, break the connection between them to prevent Aria from negatively influencing him.

The Vulcan stepped closer and extended her hands toward the stranger known as Nathanial Quinn. Rhys began to object, but ceased his complaints when he noticed Nathan's expression relax at her touch. The pressure of her fingertips upon his temple, cheekbone and chin helped to clear the torrent of Cooperative voices and center his wasn't long before he found the one individual he sought.

Billions of voices danced in her mind, but she could still feel Quinn's attempt at contact. Aria felt the impression of the stranger as his thoughts reached out to her, aided by the one she allowed to go free. She smiled softly to herself. There was more than enough room in her thoughts for this visitor.

Aria enjoyed the feel of his mind—the strength of it and the nobility of the man. He had so many things that she desired and she needed to satisfy those cravings. Greetings Nathanial., the queen of the Cooperative thought. We have spent considerable energy searching for you and keeping your infection at bay. It is now time for you to come to me. Nathan, you must be cured.

Her voice produced a blinding euphoria that was so intense, the sensation caused Nathan to shiver...this was how her influence was initiated. Sevryll sensed the manipulation and moved her consciousness between Aria and Quinn to filter the affect, reducing the euphoria to a mild serenity.

He quickly regained his wits and addressed the queen, "I know you, Aria James. You exist in my universe as well. Where I am from, your mother and father serve aboard my ship. The people I know as your parents would not be happy with what you have done here. I wonder, where are your parents in this reality? Do they know what you have become or have they been reduced to drones."

We do not reduce anyone...we elevate them. Aria said softly I am not from this reality either. If you know of my father, then you know of the man that sired me. He and I are unique—there are no other versions of us in the multiverse. Which begs the question... How do you think that you know me?

Quinn was taken back by her revelation. He could feel that she was telling the truth—she was in fact the daughter of his first and second officers. Despite Sevryll's attempt to aid Quinn, Aria pressed past the Vulcan and probed his mind for answers. The weight of the Cooperative poured behind her probe and into the door that he opened to them. She needed to know what he knew. They were many and he was only one. Quinn was a powerful man, but he was just a stone in the stream. He was simply a tree in the storm. He would bend or he would break.

Aria felt his resistance, stronger than she anticipated, and knew that to push further would damage him. She did not want him damaged and he held his secrets too closely for her to simply take them. His resistance only proved to her that he was worthy of her attention. Trillions of calculations raced through her mind and she knew exactly what she needed to do.

"You have a clone." Quinn said as the mind of the Cooperative battered his defenses. The moment she heard the explanation, Quinn felt the probe cease. It was as if the eye of the hurricane had swiftly passed over him.

The voice that echoed in the Captain's mind sounded grieved by the knowledge.  Nathan pushed back seeking the key to her reaction and swiftly discovered it. She had once believed that her parents  were the ones lost, but in fact it was she who had vanished from their lives... only to be replaced.

Nathan sensed fragments of her grief and confusion. She wondered if she had been replaced. She hoped that she had been missed. He didn't know much regarding the circumstances that stole her away from the universe he knew, but he felt it necessary to share the facts he was given regarding the binary clone's creation.

"You father did mourn for you, and your mother would have...had she had known you. What you may not understand is that Sevryll's history was altered by the time shift—she did not meet your father until recently and because of this you were never conceived. Aeric's Nacine heritage allowed him to feel the shift coming and before you vanished completely, your katra was transferred to him. It was preserved within the Aurora's computer until recently. When he became a member of my crew last year, the computer's holographic representation collected samples of DNA from your parents without their knowledge, and recreated your body to hold your katra."

I know exactly how he came to acquire my katra Nathan, but what he did with it concerns me greatly. Aria projected with icy calm. What would have been intense emotions had been replaced with cool logic. I must meet with my parents and see this ... sibling of mine. I will transport you to my vessel. You can accompany me for my visit.

It was not a question. Aria was going to see her father and Quinn would be joining her. She was his only way back to his universe and he would have to meet with her personally for that to take place. Given the newly received information, she adapted her plans and reached out to one of her agents within the fleet. She would bring an escort with her when she traveled to the other universe. She had a very specific agent in mind for this mission. After her orders were received she turned her attention back to Nathan and his allies.

She had no time to debate with him. Her limited Nacene heritage could not keep the rift stable indefinitely. She was also more than eager to meet this Captain from her birth universe.

Prepare for transport once transporter lock is established. She informed him as the Cooperative worked to get past the distortion of of the rift.


The door of the turbolift drifted open and Lorna's adrenalin took the better of her and she raced out screaming. Behind her the turbo lift door slammed shut catching one member of her teams arm, she turned to see the arm drift up the outside of the turbo lift door, it stuck for a moment at the top, a scream bellowed out and then the arm shredded and became disembodied from the owner. She backed away as the lost limb slipped down the smooth metal and splattered on the floor. Her stomach convulsed and she bent over to be sick.

"You'd better clean that up young lady"

Lorna spun round her eyes bulged with fright as the man came out of the shadows.


The odd-shaped, Thalaron-armed vessel arrowed towards the lead Borg ship. On the bridge, the air was a thick soup of apprehension and anticipation.

As Aria's ship grew larger in the forward viewscreen, Captain Vass gripped his armrests.  The red glow of the bridge lights pulsed on and off around him, in sync with the heart-like throbbing of the ship's thalaron generator.   

"Keep your eyes open, my comrades!" he yelled.  "We are but moments away from the glory of Sto-Vo-Kor!"

As the kamikaze vessel sped towards the Borg ship, an insistent hammering echoed from the sealed bridge door.  Vass glanced back at the door, which vibrated with each thundering blow.  As he looked on in disbelief, a series of bulges appeared on the thick slab of steel, and sparks sputtered from the control panel beside it.

"Guards!" Vass barked.  He gestured towards the buckling bridge door.  "Explain this!"

A warrior sprung towards the door as a booming blow shook it once more. As he neared the portal, there was the rending shriek of tortured steel; the door popped free of it's brace and topled inward.  The warrior tried to dodge the falling weight, but to no avail; the door crashed down, pinning his legs to the grated deck. 

The smoke from the door's ruined control circuits gradually dispersed; the light form the corridor beyond streamed into the darkened bridge.  Standing in the doorway was the silhouette of a stoop shouldered, shaggy haired Terran.

Chest heaving from exertion, K'Tan strode into the bridge.  One foot came down hard on the fallen door, eliciting a decidedly un warrior-like squeal from the guard trapped beneath.  K'Tan's gaze flitted to the scene playing out on the main viewscreen, a faint, unnatural green glow shining from his eyes.

"You will alter your course now, Captain, or I will alter it for you."

Around the bridge, several disruptors were smoothly unholstered and leveled at the ragged Terran. 

They fired almost in unison, filling the bridge with a nova-bright glare...


On the bridge of the NegVar, all eyes were glued to the main viewscreen.
Admiral KoraQ stood next to captain K'Lara's chair, his hand unconsciously messaging her shoulder as they watched the scene unfold. 

On the screen, Vass' ship seemed to pick up speed as it headed towards the lead Borg vessel. 

Behind the two warships, the fertile, blue and white orb of the planet Teross spun lazily, dominating the lower half of the viewscreen.  The unspoiled world's tranquil beauty starkly contrasted the scene of destruction that seemed all but imminent.

KoraQ grimaced. 

While he welcomed the destruction of the Borg, he feared the aftermath of the Thalaron detonation.   The Borg ship didn't come close to having enough mass to contain the Thalaron generator's chain reaction.  Without a readily available reaction mass, the energy wave would race hungrily outward, obliterating the assembled Alliance and Terran ships alike. There was only one hope of escaping annihilation.  He would have to gamble on taking out Vass' ship before the generator reached critical mass.

"Lock disruptors, and put that crazy petaQ down!" KoraQ yelled, spittle flying. 

A Cardassian officer looked up from an adjacent work station.  "Excuse me, sir.  The transporter room reports that Regent Worf has arrived from the Terran ship.  He is on his way to the bridge."

"Excellent," KoraQ said.  In a moment of private guilt, he glanced at his errant hand, and hastily removed it from K'Lara's shoulder.

Less than a heartbeat later, the bridge doorway scraped open, revealing the towering, scowling visage of the Regent.  As Worf walked in, KoraQ's face flushed.  He took two steps away from K'Lara's chair.

An inscrutable expression crossed Worf's face as he paused to regard the pair; he then sighed, and strode confidently to the center of the bridge.  K'Lara sprang from her chair and stood at attention, her fist crossing her chest to strike her armor in salute.  "Your presence honors us, Regent!" 

She gestured towards the command seat, an eyebrow arched inquisitively. 

A grim smile split Worf's face.  "Please take your seat, Captain." 

Worf's gaze  briefly stabbed KoraQ before refocusing on K'Lara.  "I wouldn't want to deprive my son's future Mate of her moment of glory and honor.  After all, without honor, we are nothing more than animals.  Isn't that right, Admiral KoraQ?"

KoraQ's blush deepened.  "Yes, Regent," he replied.  KoraQ gestured towards the viewscreen.  "We were about to.."

"Yes, I know," Worf interrupted.  "I've been monitoring the situation, and it appears to be spinning out of control.  Open a channel to Captain Vass' ship."

Worf turned a fierce glare at KoraQ.  "Now."


At the urging of the Regent, the NegVar picked up speed, steadily closing the distance between itself and Captain Vass' ship.

A communications officer worked feverishly at his console, trying to hail the kamikaze vessel.  His efforts were finally rewarded, and the NegVar's viewscreen switched to an image of Vass' bridge. 

It was immediately evident that something was wrong.  Agitated, excited shouts filled the bridge of Vass' ship, and the  air appeared to be suffused with smoke.  Vass stood at an awkward angle, cradling an evidently broken arm.  Several of his officers stood in a huddle, pointing disruptors down at a smoking, charred shape at the captain's feet.  Vass glanced up from the body into the viewscreen, and his jaw dropped as he did a double take.

"Regent Worf!  We feared that you were killed by the Terrans!"

Worf chuckled mirthlessly.  "Killed?  Come now Captain; do you truly have such a low opinion of me?"

Worf glanced from Vass' damaged arm to the smoldering body at his feet.  "It looks like you've been busy."

Vass grinned his best ingratiating smile.  "Yes, sir.  This crazy Terran PetaQ assaulted me and tried to commandeer the ship."  He gave the smoking body an absentminded kick.   "He must be doped up on stimulants.  The HadibaH soaked up at least 20 disruptor blasts before he finally stayed down!"

Worf gave an incredulous, non-committal  chuckle.  "Yes; of course he did."

The Regent's expression turned suddenly stern.  "But enough of your tales of adventure.  You are to deactivate the Thalaron Generator immediately, and move your vessel to the rear of the fleet."

Vass face turned ashen.  "I-I'm afraid that that won't be possible, my Lord.  The generator has gone beyond the stopping point.  Any attempt to shut it down now will result in a premature detonation."

The Regent paused a beat, then turned and spat on the deck in disgust.  "You reckless idiot!"

Worf stormed up to the viewscreen, and the televised image of Vass shrunk back as though he feared the Regent would step through the screen to throttle him. 

Worf sneered at the cowardly flinch. 

"I almost wish the Terran had succeeded in taking over your ship!" 

He pointed at Vass, his finger trembling with rage.  "You are relieved of command!"

Stunned, Vass sunk into the command chair, his dreams of glory vanishing before his eyes.  He glanced at the charred, smoking body at his feet. 

"I almost envy you, human," he muttered.  "In death, you have at least escaped the threat of dishonor."

As if on cue, the 'dead' man's eyes suddenly sprung open, freezing Vass' blood.  The slave's cracked lips split open to emit a harsh, strained whisper--

"Not.. dead.. yet.."

Vass sprung from his chair, his eyes widening in disbelief. 

"N-no; it's impossible!"

The captain tried to back away, but was stopped by a charred, blackened hand grasping his leg.  With mounting strength, the slave clawed his way up to the captain's knife sheath. 

Frozen by a mixture of horror and denial, Vass could only look on as the slave pulled his dagger free.

"you.. will not.. stop.. The COOPERATIVE!"

Wisps of smoke still rising from his cracked and bleeding skin, K'Tan stood and drew back his arm, holding the shining blade poised above him. 

Too late, Vass snapped back to his senses, and resumed his frantic struggle to break free. 

With terrible finality, K'Tan's hand swung down. 

The gleaming, razor-keen blade slipped effortlessly into Vass' eye, splitting the fragile orb and burying itself deep into the Klingon's fevered brain.

As he fell lifeless to the deck, Vass' last breath escaped with a rattle, taking with it the dishonored Klingon's hopes and dreams of glory.

K'Tan yanked the ichor-covered blade free.  Like a reanimated corpse, he shuffled painfully towards the Conn station, his cracked feet leaving bloody footprints on the cold, hard deck.  His arm snapped forward once more, sending the blade spinning through the air with an ominous whistle.  The knife found a new home in the neck of the Conn officer, who fell to the deck, frantically trying to stop the escape of his life's blood.  K'Tan leaned over the dying Klingon, and punched a series of commands into the pilot's station. 

As he made his final entry, he felt a dull impact in the center of his back, followed by a cold, razor-sharp flare of pain in the center of his chest.  He reached behind himself to feel the unforgiving steel of a bat'leth protruding from his back.  With its final beat, his heart ripped in two, and darkness greedily stole his sight. 

K'Tan slumped wearily to the deck, satisfied that he had done all he could to protect The Collective. 

But as he felt himself being swallowed by the void, all thoughts of the collective were washed away by an even grander vision. 

His sightless eyes widened, and a smile of wonder lit the dying slave's face as he saw...*



Her eyes darted for somewhere to escape but the figure slowly crept
forward. She ran to the turbo lift and skidded on the blood crashing
into the solid door, her nose cracked on impact.

"Now you have only gone and spread all the mess around"

She scrabbled in the blood trying to get to her feet and banged on the
turbo lift door.

"Help me, please, HELP ME!!!!"

The hunched figure slowly edged out of the darkness, the face half
burned and septic loomed towards the petrified girl.

"I've been watching you, and now I'm going to demonstrate how to kill someone properly."

Lorna pressed herself tight against the door and screamed.

"Margon Nooooooooo!!!!!!!!"

"No one can hear you, so shut up.  Accept your fate.  You are mine."

Lorna ducked below Margons swipe and ran behind him.

A sound of phaser fire could be heard from above.

"Oh, sounds like you may have missed the party little girl, how i'd like to have tested some of my party tricks on you. We could have had so much fun together, you and I.", he hissed.  His hand shook with anticipation as the blade gleamed.

He turned round and began to laugh at Lorna.  He loved her fear.  Fear was something that fascinated Margon.  He had struggled to overcome it, and eventually figured out to be numb.

She looked around for something to use as Margon lifted his scalpel up to his cheek. Lorna backed away and then remembered the metal section spanner in her back pocket, she lowered her hand and grabbed the handle, screaming she ran at the disfigured doctor who in turn ran at her.

The two collided as with one hand Lorna grabbed the Dr.s scalpeled fist and tried to hold it back.  With the other she thrust the spanner at his abdomen.  A horrible squishing sound accompanied a rush of thick blue blood from Margon.  His eyes began to roll back into his head as the scalpel fell from his hand.  He stepped back and shook his head to clear his thoughts.

"I don't feel pain" he thought.  Then he realized that Lorna had pushed the spanner completely through his mid section.

His legs lost strength and he tumbled to the floor in the increasingly larger blood pool.  Landing face first he turned his head toward the shocked and scared woman.

"We would have had so much....   fun... togeth....."

With that Dr. Margon lurched as blood trickled from his mouth.  Then he lay motionless his eyes wide open.