Cracks in the Ice
“I am hereby ordering you out of Federation territory and back to the Neutral Zone! If you do not comply, it will be considered an act of war!” Picard hollered.
“Perhaps you should check your star maps again, Captain,” Admiral Tomalak replied calmly. “If you’ll notice, there is no Neutral Zone anymore – It no longer exists. From your communications traffic, I am wagering you know a lot more about it than I presently do. Perhaps we can discuss this more aboard my ship? As my personal guest of course.”
Picard found himself as trapped as the criminal changeling helping him. He exhaled his frustration audibly. “Drop your shields and we will beam you to the Enterprise, as our guest,” he said.
“Very well, Captain. As a gesture of good faith in our new friendship, I will come to you.”
“We’ll make arrangements to have you transported over in two hours,” Picard said.
“Why the delay?”
“It may not have occurred to you, but we are currently spread very thin trying to accomplish as much as we can before the Borg are expected to arrive.”
“All the more reason we should meet right away.”
“Two hours, Picard out.”
The channel closed.
“The Romulans are lowering their shields,” said the ensign.
“Stay at Red Alert for now, but lower our shields,” the captain ordered.
By the time the arrangements for the meeting with the Romulans had been prepared, an hour and a half had passed. Looking over toward Will he said, “Commander, I’m going to check on Commander LaForge and Q’s progress. You have the bridge.” Picard left the bridge via the Turbolift. “Deck One,” he commanded.
U.S.S. Tecumseh, Acting Captain Thomas Hakins Presiding
“Captain’s Log, Stardate 50927.9:
We’ve completed our scans of all sectors for ships within range of reaching the Horse Head nebula within the next two days. We are now at least one day away from returning to the system, prior to the expected arrival of the Borg.
The only other ship we’ve been able to reach was the U.S.S. Magellan. The Magellan is an old Constellation-class starship and with weaponry a half-century out-of-date, would be little more than cannon fodder to a fully operational Borg cube. Despite this, Captain Conklin has pledged the services of his ship to stopping the Borg from achieving their objectives at all costs. The Magellan is currently two days away at maximum warp.
“Now add a molecular interchanger to the quantum phase device…” said Discord, pointing to the schematics displayed on the screen.
“For the last time Q, we don’t have a quantum molecular interchanger,” Geordi argued, “and the replicator can’t create one. You’ll have to make due with our current technology and build from there.”
“Oh pish posh! Step aside, and let me show you how it’s done!” Discord replied, smiling and cracking his knuckles.
He fingers and claws started working the keys rapidly, as his horns started to glow. One horn glowed red, the other glowed black. On the display the schematic was being altered three different ways. His fingers created the visual base. The magic from his left horn was adding a quantum fluxed atomic containment pod, while his right assembled the components for a molecular decoupler and matter rearrangement devices. When he was finished, the computer rendered the design of the completed weapon. It seemed to have no problems accepting the data inputted.
Geordi would liked to have known how Q managed to convince the computers to replicate technology more advanced than the replicator itself was, not to mention learning the specifications for those advanced pieces of technology, but for now it looked like they had a decent prototype.
“Computer, display a holographic version of the weapon and simulate a Borg force of…” he looked at Q.
“Twenty drones,” Q finished.
Twenty holographic drones appeared around the holodeck. The new weapon appeared in front of Geordi.
“Twenty?” Geordi questioned in disbelief.
“Trust me.”
Geordi took the weapon into his hands. It was a little shorter than a phase rifle but three times as big around. The nose of the gun was cone shaped with a spinning end piece that reminded Geordi of a classic nineteenth century Gatling gun in miniature.
Its only drawback was the weight. It seemed to be made for broader shoulders than a human, with more than two hands.
“This is fairly heavy and cumbersome,” he commented as he tried to position the weapon for firing.
Discord sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Computer, could you give this poor weak man a shoulder strap for his little gun?” he asked mockingly.
The computer obliged and attached a strap to the gun. Geordi fixed the strap onto his shoulder across his chest, held the two handles on the sides of the weapon, and still needed additional support. He anchored the gun onto his thigh to steady the weapon for firing.
With his left hand twisting the handle forward, and his right pulling back, he fired the weapon off at the enemy. He was quickly disappointed.
The end of the weapon spun fast and a bright flash of light illuminated the room for a fast moment, but the Borg drones remained standing.
“Did we miss something?” Geordi asked looking around the ends of the gun.
“Nope, it worked perfectly.”
“Perfectly? They’re still standing!” he said.
The holodeck door opened, and Captain Picard walked in; just in time to see twenty Borg drones explode simultaneously, landing in bits and pieces all around the room.
Picard picked a piece of holographic Borg flesh off his shoulder. “I take it you’re making progress?”
Geordi was a little in shock from how well that worked; though the shock may have been from being much closer to the blast and being significantly more covered in chunks of drone.
“Ah Captain! I’m so glad you could witness our little demonstration,” said Discord happily. May I present to you the Borg Fighting Gun! Or BFG for short.”
“How does it work?” asked Picard.
Geordi replied, “It takes normal matter and breaks it into its individual atoms, then enters them into a state of quantum flux. Finally, an enhanced micro-transporter transports the unstable atoms through the Borg shields and attaches themselves to individual Borg nanoprobes. When the atoms in quantum flux attempt to restabilize themselves using molecules from the Borg nanoprobes, they trigger several million micro explosions within the drone.”
“Death by a thousand paper cuts!” Discord shouted.
“Intriguing, but how would you be able to transport the probes through their shields, and even if you could, wouldn’t they be able to adapt?” asked the captain.
“That’s the beauty!” said Discord, “I programmed this bad boy with every known and to be known Borg personal shield frequency. This is the ultimate anti-Borg gun to ever exist.”
“Very well. Commander, get the plans to the replicators as soon as possible and begin mass production.”
“Yes sir!” Geordi complied.
“Q, I need you to come with me. There is a delicate situation that has arisen and I will need your help to explain things more smoothly.”
“Would this have anything to do with the Red Alert we experienced recently?”
“Yes. A Romulan warbird has decloaked and is offering to render assistance. It would be fair to say I trust them less than I trust you.”
“I thought you trusted me implicitly, Jean-Luc. I’m hurt.”
Ignoring his comment, Picard continued. “Follow me to the briefing room. Try not to mention too much about Unicorn magic, our new weapon, or the changeling. The less information the Romulans know the better.”
“If he’s willing to be an ally, shouldn’t we be sharing everything?”
“Q, your antics, while both bizarre and dangerous, have always had some semblance of a decent purpose behind them; though you usually could have just saved a lot of trouble by simply talking to us. However, in my dealings with the Romulans, they tend to always have some ulterior motive that only benefits themselves at the expense of everyone else.”
“If you’d like, Captain. I will keep your secrets.”
Picard led the way toward Transporter Room One.
When they arrived, a security team was already waiting for them.
“Are the Romulans ready to beam over?” Picard asked the transporter chief.
“Yes sir. Romulans have responded and are standing by.”
“How many are in their boarding party?”
“Three, sir.”
“Very well. Energize.”
Three Romulan delegates materialized onto the transporter pad. Admiral Tomalak stood center in the group.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Captain,” he gestured, smiling.
“Unfortunately, I cannot say the same,” Picard retorted.
“Really Captain, that is no way to start our discussions,” said Tomalak, shaking his head, but still smiling; that is, until he noticed the much more bizarre creature hovering in the background. “Um…Captain, would you care to introduce…and possibly explain this extra guest in the room?”
Before Picard could reply, Discord had jumped ahead, open paw out front. “It’s an absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Admiral,” he said, shaking the Romulan’s hand vigorously. “The name’s Discord. I’m a Draconequus from the planet below.
It took three tries for Tomalak to free his hand from the tight grip of Discord’s large paw. “Yes…a pleasure, I’m sure,” he said uncertainly.
Picard realized Q had decided not to share his true nature with the Admiral and for the moment, was grateful.
“This way to the briefing room, Admiral,” Picard said, gesturing toward the hallway.
Admiral Tomalak and his two associates followed the captain and Discord to the briefing room. The Romulans took their seats after the Captain and Discord.
Picard felt he should go first. “Admiral, you mentioned the Neutral Zone and Romulan space no longer seem to exist. How much are you aware of the current situation?”
“Now Captain, I didn’t come here to give you a report on our findings when clearly yours are more detailed. But I would like to try a little honesty up front for a change, as the situation does seem that dire.”
Picard shifted in his seat slightly. He expected a lot more tiptoeing and dancing before getting to the truth.
“You see, we noticed you were attempting to recruit ships from all across this sector into defending against a Borg invasion of this backwater world,” Tomalak explained.
“By ‘noticed’ I assume you mean: 'intercepted our communications',” Picard accused.
“I am not going to simply divulge our intelligence gathering methods, but suffice it to say, I became curious as to why you wanted to recruit everything from ships still being repaired, to freighters with nothing more than obsolete phase canons and torpedoes covered in dust to fight with, all to save this planet of primitive pre-warp ponies.
“I also have a sneaking suspicion that our lost contact with the Romulan Empire and this supposed Borg invasion are most likely interconnected. I am here to find out exactly why the Borg are interested in this planet, why is it worth dying to defend, and why exactly I should help you.”
Picard didn’t respond right away. He needed to choose his words carefully, but if he paused too long, the Admiral would never believe anything he told him.
“There is a genetic advantage the native species carries that the Borg wish to assimilate,” he said carefully dancing around the issue.
“And that is…?”
“They carry the ability to…to…” he stumbled.
“Oh just tell them, Picard,” said Discord, rolling his eyes.”
“Cu-Discord!” Picard glared at him.
“The ponies have a psychokinesis that allows them to move objects with their minds,” Discord explained matter-of-factly.
Tomalak looked surprised for a moment, but quickly put it past him.
Picard quickly caught on, but had to play the act through. “Well there’s no point in denying it. The Borg wish to assimilate this biological ability into their drones. It would give them a powerful advantage against us.”
“I see,” said Tomalak calmly. “And what exactly does that have anything to do with the disappearance of more than two-thirds of the galaxy?”
Discord took the lead this time. “They already possess the ability to travel back in time, you see. So if they were to assimilate this ability, they could travel back and rearrange the universe to their liking. We are at the precipice of that timeline.”
“And just how exactly do you know all this?” one of other Romulans inquired suspiciously. “If you are supposedly native to this primitive world, how did you come by this knowledge?”
“Oh, did I not mention? I’m not a native, just a resident. I’m actually from a race that was assimilated by the Borg long ago. I come from the future to stop the Borg from succeeding here.”
The Romulans shared a quizzical look with one another.
“Do you really expect us to believe this tall tale?” the Admiral asked.
“It’s the truth,” said Picard. “If you’re here to help as you originally claimed, then help us set up an orbital defense net to stop the Borg from succeeding here.”
“Captain, I came here for the truth. Not some tall tale about time travel and psychotic ponies.” He stood up to leave. “If you have no useful information to share…”
Picard stood as well, “Admiral, whatever you believe or don’t believe about Discord’s account does not negate the urgency of this situation. You offered to help and we’ll accept if you’re still willing. When this is over, we can worry about the finer details.”
Tomalak looked at the captain bemusedly. “Captain, I do not like being lied to, and the only thing keeping me from returning home is that my home no longer exists. If, as you say, stopping this Borg invasion will resolve my conundrum, then I will help. When this is over, if Romulus is not exactly where I left it, you will become my next target. Are we clear?”
“Understood Admiral,” said Picard.
With the meeting adjourned, the captain led Admiral Tomalak and his guests back to the transporter room.
Onboard the U.S.S. Magellan…
“Sir, Engineering reports they’ve gotten the engines up to 98.7% percent efficiency,”
the officer reported. “We’re now capable of accelerating to Warp 7.2.”
“Excellent, Ensign,” Captain Conklin replied. “Helm: accelerate to warp 7.2.”
“Aye, Captain.”
“Sir, I’m picking up something on long range sensors,” the science officer announced. “It’s…Sir, it’s a Borg cube!”
“Red Alert! Accelerate to Warp 7.5.”
“Sir! The engines will burn out if we remain at that speed.”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant!”
“Warp 7.5…Aye sir… The Borg are matching our speed and accelerating.”
“What’s the Borg’s time to intercept?” the captain asked.
“If their speed and ours remain constant: two hours.”
“How long until we reach the Horse Head nebula?
“Twenty-nine hours, sir.”
“Well we’re not going to be outrunning them. Ready the phase cannons. Adjust them to rotate frequencies in a random pattern. Do the same for the shields. If we’re lucky we can get off a few good shots and slow them down long enough to escape.”
“Yes sir!”
For two hours, every man and woman on the ship recalibrated, readjusted, and upgraded every last piece of equipment they could manage. When the Borg cube came into range, every station on the ship was at the ready.
“Wait until the cube closes to within two hundred thousand kilometers,” said the captain. “Then drop to impulse and initiate pattern Omega Six.”
“Yes sir!” the helmsman yelled.
Over the ship’s audio the Borg’s collective voice spoke out. “We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.”
“The hell it is!” Captain Conklin shouted. “Ready?”
“Fifteen thousand kilometers more… Ten thousand… Five thousand… Now sir!”
“Initiate pattern Omega Six!”
At once the ship dropped out of warp, flipped vertically over itself so that all forward phaser banks and torpedo launchers were now pointed straight at the cube.
“Target their engines and FIRE!!!”
Phasers shot out, blasting a small hole in the side of the cube. Torpedoes immediately followed, enlarging the hole, but the damage to the engines was negligible. The cube closed on top of them.
The Magellan shuddered as the green aura wrapped around the ship.
“They’ve got us in a tractor beam, sir!” the ensign shouted.
“Target the source of the tractor beam and fire! Try to go back to warp!”
Shots sounded across the ship as the phasers and torpedoes launched at the cube. As they reached the hull, the same green aura shielded their weapons from causing any further harm.
“They’ve adapted, sir!” The young ensign’s voice cracked in fear.
Twelve Borg drones materialized on the bridge. The captain was the first to draw his phaser. He fired into two of the drones. They both fell to the ground. Two more phasers fired at other drones but their shields adapted.
“Computer. This is Captain Thaddeus Conklin. Initiate Auto-Destruct. Authorization Conklin alpha seve–ahh!”
One of the drones inserted their nanotubules into the captain’s neck. He sank to his knees as his veins turned black from the borg nanoprobes.
“C-c-com-p-put-ter! Erraase all d-d-d-data-b-b-b-b-ba…”
“Command was not recognized,” the computer replied, softly. “Please restate your request.”
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!”
Onboard the Romulan Warbird…
“Have we secured it?” Admiral Tomalak asked as he rematerialized onto the ship.
“Yes Admiral. We’ve brought it to the main chamber.”
“Excellent. Let’s find out what Picard was trying to hide from us.”
He followed the guard through ship until they reached a large black door. When it opened, the room was pitch-black inside. A small light switched on just above a chair in the middle of the otherwise empty room. Seated on the chair was an unconscious Unicorn: a mint green Unicorn with a tattoo of a musical lyre on its flank. It sat unconscious in its restraints.
“Now, I think, we will get some answers,” Tomalak said, smirking.