The Final Frontier 8

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TF01 3,Wolf 359 - Part 2 4,by Rory Johnston Star Trek: The Next Generation -------------------------------- "Wolf 359, Part 2" by Rory Johnston ------------------------------------- Time, irretrievable time is trickling away. Whirlpools of darkness surrounded Picard as he floated through time, a time he had changed and molded for the greater good. When Q whisked the Enterprise to the far reaches of the galaxy, the crew found no terrifying enemies. There were no bogeymen were lurking around the corner for the Federation. The universe continued on peacefully, unaware of the mortal foe it could have faced. "What now?" thought Picard. The confines of the Runabout materialised around him again. "Computer: identify closest star system," ordered the Captain, curious that he had not been returned to the Enterprise. "Closest star is Wolf 359. Seven point six light years from Sol." "Wolf 359..." murmured Picard, each number like a dagger jabbing into Picard's gut, "Merde." The fleet was gathering in the sector. Already the Saratoga and the Hood had taken up their positions, taking command of the flotilla of starships that were moving into the battle formation. A flock of Klingon Birds of Prey swooped into the collection, adding their weapons to the stockade. Captain Storil of the USS Saratoga sat calmly in the centre seat, his up-swept brow cool and sweat free. Lieutenant Commander Sisko on the other hand was not so placid: his family, Jennifer and Jake, were riding on this. If the Saratoga were to fail, then they would surely die. That offer of a job at Utopia Planitia was sounding more promising by the minute. "Message from the Enterprise, sir," reported the blue skinned Bolian, Hranok. "On screen." "Attention all vessels," announced Captain Riker. "Our attempt to stop the unidentified vessel has failed. We were unable to recover Captain Picard. It seems that the aliens have taken his knowledge and used it against us. I can only hope you will have more luck. Enterprise out." Getting better by the minute, thought Sisko, griping his trembling hands firmly behind his back, keeping up the show of control and authority. "Alien vessel on sensors, approaching at Warp 9.97," announced a nervous ensign. Sisko could see the sweat collecting on the back of her neck, every now and then a few drop would roll down the back of her uniform. "Shields up," ordered Storil, "Prepare to modulate shield nutation. Arm all weapons. Load torpedo bays." "In visual range," announced Hranok, quickly glancing up from his panel. "On screen." The viewscreen showed the stars moving backwards as the sensors tracked the approaching object. A small, indistinct blur appeared at the centre. "Magnify." A huge sphere loomed on the screen. Black as space, it was only visible due to the glowing field of white energy writhing around the deadly ball as it warped through space at impossible speeds. "Message from the Hood, sir," declared the ensign. Admiral Hanson's crisp voice appeared on the bridge; "Alpha squadron, start your run." "Move us to position Alpha, ensign," ordered Sisko, taking up his position at the Captain's shoulder. The Saratoga surged forward weaving towards the sphere that was threatened Earth. Picard watched through the tiny window of the unnoticed Runabout. This was not the Borg, or was it? No, it was not the Borg; Picard had seen to that. Then who, or what, was this new enemy? A green strip washed into the Runabout. A Borg transporter, Picard remembered the one that had carried him away from the Enterprise. A Borg soldier materialised in the darkened Runabout. Picard could do nothing, he had no phaser. Outside, the Saratoga exploded in a huge ball of wrath, a smattering of escape pods winging their way from the dying hull. The blinding flash glinted on the hard body armour of the still Borg. Small lights flickered on his chest plate. The Borg's head was covered by a large eyepiece, it's sensor emitting a sharp, red beam of light. The stoney gaze fell upon Picard, sitting up the pilot's seat, his face etched in marble. Picard examined the face beneath the mask in eerie glow of the blazing Saratoga. He knew that face... "I am Locutus of Borg," announced his double. "Yes," was all Picard could say, reliving his torturous time held captive on the Borg ship. "You want to know what you see before you," said Locutus, his scope fixing on the eye where Picard used to possess one. It was a question, although Picard suspected that he had no choice in hearing the answer. Receiving no response, Locutus continued. "What you see before you is the last stand of humanity. The Federation will not be able to stop the alien vessel, and Earth will be destroyed shortly afterwards." Locutus paused, recalling a conversation with a dear friend, just before he had joined his new masters, "Turn page." Picard froze, realizing what Locutus meant. "Who are these aliens?" asked the Captain. Before Locutus phased away, he answered, "These are the machines that you prevented from joining with humanity. They have no human qualities, they are pure machine... pure evil." * * * * * * * "My God," the words of a previous captain of the Enterprise flashed through Picard's mind, "What have I done?" An image of his beloved Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth filled his confused head, "Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done." "What am I thinking?" asked Picard. "I don't know. What are you thinking?" Picard looked up, suddenly realising that someone else had appeared. A young man stood in the shadows. His face was lost in the darkness, but his body was illuminated by the glow from the dying space fleet outside. Starfleet burgundy in the old style of uniform Picard had worn as a young ensign. Glancing at the man's shoulder, he saw the small insignia lying on the white strap. Of course, it's me. Ensign Picard. He remembered the time his artificial heart had stopped and he had dreamed that Q had taken him back to when he was an ensign. "What were you thinking?" repeated the ensign. "How could you deliberately make alterations in this time-line?" "Logic," said the captain, recalling through his mind-meld the dying altruistic words of Spock, "The good of the many, outweighs the good of the few, or the one." "Do you think your change has been for the good of the many?" asked the ensign. "No," conceded Picard. The ensign vanished back into the past. Picard sat, alone, as the aliens he had protected from human qualities, devoured Earth, and destroyed civilisation in the Alpha Quadrant. A relic from a bygone era appeared once more. Locutus stepped off the Runabout transporter pad. "I have come to offer you something," declared Picard's alter ego. "What?" "Change places with me. You have a chance to put back what you have done," said Locutus, his grey face showing no trace of the emotions Picard knew were contained within. "NO! Never again. I will not change any more history. I won't do it!" shouted Picard, waiting for the inevitable response he knew was coming. "Resistance is futile..." Trapped. Fight it, must fight it. Too strong, too strong! Locutus surveyed the bridge of a Klingon vessel through the revolving cube-shaped viewer in front of him. An irate Klingon commander was shouting a string of Klingon curses at him. "Klingon," thought Locutus, "A warrior race. You will become one with the Borg." Judging their defensive systems to be inadequate, Locutus gave the order to fire. On the viewer, the bridge erupted into flames as the Klingon ship's heart was cut open and tossed aside. No! Fight it! The screen changed, showing a Federation ship. A Vulcan captain sat in the middle of the Bridge. A dark human glared defiantly over his shoulder. "You will disarm all weapons and escort us to sector zero-zero-one. If you attempt to intervene, we will destroy you." The viewer shut-off, replaced by the scenes of devastation outside. Mutilated hulls lay scattered about space, energy writhing across their scarred surfaces. Out of the debris, more Starfleet vessels surged toward the Borg. The scanners picked out their registry numbers and analysed the approaching ships' defensive systems, judging them all to be inadequate. A small ship lunged forward, firing all its phasers and photon torpedoes. Scans identified it as the USS Saratoga, registry NCC 3896. Picard's reluctant knowledge and experience provided information on vulnerable places to hit a Miranda class starship. Miniscule damage readings fluttered across Locutus' screen as the Saratoga fired off another round of photon torpedoes. A single Borg shot melted away most of the Saratoga's forward hull. A swarm of escape pods streamed from the dying hull, fleeing into the cold night, shortly before the vessel exploded. "No! It's all happening again and I can't stop it," screamed Picard from within Locutus. A conversation with his brother Robert, came to mind: "So, my brother is human after all." Having dispensed with the Federation fleet at Wolf 359, the Borg vessel was speeding towards Earth. "What are your planetary defences?" demanded Locutus. "No! No, I won't tell you!" howled Picard's mind. "Irrelevant." Picard could feel the icy tendrils of the Borg's cold, calculating mind dripping into his own. Picard tried to resist, tried to squirm away, but it was useless; futile. Picard heard his voice, and the cacophony of the Borg, reveal the closely guarded secrets of the Earth's last defences. By the time the fourth planet of the Terran system was on sensors, the Borg had adapted and were ready for the Mars Defence Perimeter. Humanity's last chance against a conquering power had been installed there almost fifty years before, and had not yet been surpassed by Federation science. As the three Genesis torpedoes sped towards their target, it was a simple matter for Locutus to destroy them without activating the Genesis effect, having gained the necessary knowledge from Picard. The warm blue sphere of Earth grew large on the cubical screen. Picard's energy was ebbing away, but Locutus was becoming stronger, feeding off the energy of the Borg and crushing the consciousness of Picard. Picard was aware that they had entered Earth orbit, and was wondering where the Enterprise was. In the history he remembered, Riker had launched a rescue plan to save him; where was his crew now? "Your knowledge and experience is part of us now," replied Locutus, "We know that you are not the same Picard, and we not do intend to make the same mistakes that your memories show us making. Your cause is hopeless." Suddenly the cube-screen revolved sharply, showing a rear view, and a familiar shape. The Enterprise hove into view, separating the saucer and battle hulls. Locutus seemed unconcerned, although he knew what had happened in the other time-line. Locutus knew everything Picard knew, and Picard knew what Locutus knew. Picard saw the plan that the Borg had developed to cater for his beloved Enterprise. A torpedo launched from a corner of the Borg ship, shooting between the two Enterprise hulls, where it stopped. The Borg detonated their crude imitation of the Genesis torpedo, destroying the Enterprise and Picard's hopes in a huge ball of hungry fire. Picard, his life now meaningless, gave in to the Borg. He was forced to watch as the cyborgs carved up his home planet, assimilating his people and culture. When they were finished, they left a barren world filled with mindless people whose only thought was to service the Borg. Again pulling knowledge from Picard, who was now much less than the sum of his parts, the Borg expanded outwards. The Klingons and the Romulans were no match for the Borg. The Tholians, Cardassians and Bajorans all became one with the Borg. Picard, his knowledge having exceeded its usefulness, was deleted from the expanding Borg consciousness, as it grew outwards from this galaxy and into neighbouring civilisations. * * * * * * * Slowly, very slowly, the energy seemed to be returning to Picard's mind. Had the Borg found some new purpose for him? Feeling for the Borg collective consciousness, he could find none. He was free, drifting in the ether. "Is this death? Is this the end?" thought Picard, searching for an answer in the endless blackness. Slowly, as his senses returned to him, the ether seemed to be enveloped in a warm glow. Looking down, Picard could see his body, floating below him. As he became fully aware of himself, his mind seemed to snap painfully back to the awaiting body. The light was now intense; a fierce glow that would normally have forced Picard to squint or shade his eyes, but he found no need. Picard could see clearly now, but there was nothing to see. Soft, gentle footsteps padded up beside him. Turning, he saw that the footsteps belonged to Guinan. "Guinan," said Picard, surprised and glad to see her, "Where am I?" "Where do you think?" replied his friend curtly. Picard was surprised by her tone, she did not seem pleased to see him. "Am I..." Picard could hardly bring himself to say it, "...dead?" "Yes, Jean-Luc," said Guinan, tight-lipped, struggling to control her anger, "We all are." Suddenly Picard became aware of a wide circle of people surrounding them. The crew of the Enterprise, his friends. Their faces were all saddened, as if mourning for the lives they once lived. "What's going on?" asked Picard, turning back to her and gripping her elbow tightly, he did not like the looks on his friends' faces. "I told you Jean-Luc, we're dead, all of us..." she trailed off, bowing her head, "...humanity." The grip loosened on Guinan's elbow. The hand trailed back to his side, now limp, as he took in the magnitude of the statement. Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise dropped to one knee, one hand gripping his face tightly, trying to summon up some of the control he had learned from Sarek and Spock. A harsh whisper of a voice said all that it could, "No... no... no..." "Did time really feel that wrong to you? Did you have to change it?" asked Guinan, kneeling beside the captain. "No, it looks like you, and time, were right," conceded Picard. Looking up at Guinan, he said, "I want it back, all of it." Guinan seemed to hesitate, wavering. Then she dissolved into the light. The circle of watchers vanished. Picard found himself alone once more. The light faded, and the darkness returned. Suddenly a wave of gravity gripped Picard, pulling him down to the ground. Picard landed on soft, fine sand, cushioning his fall. Picard lay there, thinking. Waiting. Slowly a reddish hue filled the sky, as the red sun of the planet he had once visited rose above him, the landscape grow out of the darkness, taking on depth and definition. Brushing the sand from his clothes, Picard rose shakily to his feet. The huge, arching spike towered above him. Following the line of the obelisk upwards, Picard traced the spike to it's tip. The point was glowing a sharp, dazzling white. Incandescent beads of coloured light sparked from the tip, as the writhing mass of energy grew larger. Picard wanted to run, to beam back up to the Runabout, to escape; but he couldn't, he knew that he must stay, to face the light. Picard tensed, waiting for the energy to arc towards him, like lightning shooting down to discharge. The writhing mass seemed to solidify, taking on a spherical shape. Instead of shooting down upon him, the sphere glided gently down, to hover before him. The sphere spoke, a deep, resonant voice, "Welcome to our world, Captain." Picard turned his palms upwards in the universal gesture of peace, even though he knew that this being had a distinct advantage over him anyway. Deciding to try and even the score a little, Picard asked, "Who are you?" "A good question, I'm not sure we know ourselves," replied the sphere, but this time the voice was different, purveying mild humour as compared to the deep, emotionless voice of before. "This may take some time to explain, Captain," began the sphere. "You already know about the V'Ger probe that threatened Earth, and you know that Commander Decker and Lieutenant Ilia joined with V'Ger?" "Yes, Lieutenant Ilia was captured by V'Ger and was made into a probe to observe the `carbon units'. When Captain Kirk discovered what V'Ger was," Picard cast his eyes over the glowing sphere, "Kirk tried to transmit the binary code for V'Ger to send its information, but Commander Decker had to give V'Ger the code personally. Starfleet surmises that V'Ger, Decker and Ilia formed a new life- form." A third voice emanated from the sphere; feminine, calm, "The being you see before you is the culmination of that joining, Captain. We are Decker, Ilia and V'Ger." Two columns of light shimmered outward from the sphere. The columns coalesced on either side of the sphere, forming images of Decker and Ilia. Commander Decker stepped forward towards the Captain, "We are sorry for what the Borg have done to you, Captain." "Why should you be sorry?" asked Picard. "In essence, in was our fault. When we returned to this planet, our mission completed, the machines who were in effect the Borg's predecessors, decided that we had some of the qualities they needed. The result was the Borg. We thought we had given the machines a wonderous gift that would help them to understand the `infestations' of the universe," said Decker, "It seems we were wrong." Ilia moved forward, "You see Captain, before V'Ger arrived here, this civilisation was grinding to a halt - they knew everything they needed to know. V'Ger gave them something to focus on, something more to live for. Emotion was what they desired." "They took our emotions and formed the Borg," said Decker, casting his eyes down the red sand in shame. "So why are you still here, why weren't you assimilated?" asked Picard, trying to comprehend what he was being told. "They couldn't, but they took everything else. They constructed their ships and went out to raise quality of life in the galaxy. We were left, a monument to their creation." "Surely you must have seen that what you had created was dangerous?" said Picard, his head was not throbbing with anger as he had imagined it would if he ever met the creators of the Borg; he was calm and relaxed. "We saw, and we knew, but we couldn't stop them. We pleaded with them, but they were relentless. They believed they were working for the greater good." The sphere, V'Ger, glowed brighter, "When the Borg left, we knew that they would cause problems, but until now, until we saw your memories, we had no idea that they nearly destroyed the Federation. We are sorry." "Truly sorry, Captain. That is why we had to make amends, and we had to know what our child had done," said Decker. "Make amends?" asked Picard, suddenly recalling the times he had changed, "You mean you invaded my mind, and forced me to endure that charade for your curiosity!" "No, no Captain," whispered Ilia, moving forward, stretching out a calming hand in front of Picard. "Not invaded, integrated. We joined with you. Your thoughts were our thoughts, but we had to do something to help you. I have never felt such pain..." Ilia stepped back, awaiting Picard's reaction. "You mean it wasn't real?" asked Picard. "It was real to you, and that was enough. I think you can now confidently tell your friend Spock that you have come to terms with the Borg." Picard paused, not knowing whether to be angry or grateful. Looking inward at the part of him he had for so long denied and hidden from, Picard found only acceptance at the part of him he had left behind; Locutus. "Thank you," was all Picard could muster. "We are glad you approve," said V'Ger. "Captain, there is one last thing we must ask you," said Decker, dragging his eyes from the ground to focus on Picard, "We want to try again, to start a new civilisation." "A Phoenix to rise from the our ashes," said Ilia. "Why are you asking me?" said Picard, puzzled that he was being consulted on the formation of a new species. "Well, we would like you to remove the archaeologists from our planet, but also, we wanted your blessing," said Ilia, gazing into Picard eyes, willing him to agree. "It is important to us. You are the one who has suffered the most at the hands of our first child," said Decker. "You have my blessing," announced Picard, hoping this would not be a mistake he would regret. Looking at the happy smiles on Decker and Ilia's faces, he could see that he would not regret this - time felt right at last. "Time has healed your wound, Jean-Luc," said Ilia. Captain's Log, Stardate 47229.5: Having been released from the collective consciousness on the planet, and having discussed the situation with the being which is Decker, Ilia and V'Ger, they have decided to start a new civilisation on this planet. It will be a hard task to complete, but I hope it produces a better result than the last time. With a new civilisation about to colonise this planet, I am transporting the archaeologists back to the Federation. Under the Prime Directive, this planet is now off limits. * * * * * * * The End `As tyme them hurt, a tyme doth them cure.' - Chaucer