by Alan Tripp

2408

As an Okinawa II-class, the U.S.S. Sam Houston was a small ship. 

That was both a blessing and a curse. 

On the one hand, it meant the enemy has less ship to conquer before a potential boarding operation could be considered a success. … Or in the case of the Borg, the ship and crew completely assimilated and under Collective control. 

On the other hand, it also meant the Starfleet crew had less ship spaces to defend, meaning it could potentially become easier to repel and defeat any boarders. 

In this case, it was the latter with Ahlayna and her team stripping the heads off their Borg invaders and / or beaming them into space. 

The Houston’s captain kicked a wayward Borg head out of the command well as she approached a forcefield that contained yet another drone who seemed to keep lashing out at that which held it. 

Something unique about this drone was it was a member of her crew … her first officer to be precise. 

Ahlayna locked eyes with Lt. Cmdr. Aruju. 

However, the assimilated Bajoran seemed to look straight through her captain. 

“Beam her to the cargo hold with the others and make sure that area remains shielded from any Borg transmissions … and finger on the button to eject them into space should the need arise,” the captain ordered. 

Ahylana hoped they could find a way to save her crew members assimilated, but that hope could NOT reach beyond the need to protect the ship and rest of the crew. 

She knew it was possible to “de-assimilate” some, but it was never easy. 

And as long as those officers remained under the control of the Borg, they remained a threat. 

As soon as that threat edged toward uncontrollable, saving the assimilated would no longer be an option. 

The Scottish-Romulan dropped into her command chair even as Aruju disappeared from the bridge. 

“Helm, bring us about on course three-nine-four. Put us in line with the rest of the fleet.” 

It was time to push the bastards back to depths of the hell that had so recently spit them out. 

— 13 hours later —

The Borg Queen saw through the eyes of her drones left behind. 

She felt the addition of each new drone as it joined the collective and welcomed their voice into that of the one. 

And when the ships of Starfleet and the empires began to rally and work as one, she one-by-one withdrew her forces … even going so far as to have drones from shattered cubes, spheres, etc., to be beamed aboard those ships still operational. 

Sometimes it was necessary to sacrifice the few for the betterment of the collective. 

Yet today, the few were needed to help rebuild her collective … and time was not on their side. 

The Borg Collective must be reborn and it would need strength to see it through. 

–

“HOLD ON!” Ka’nej Hauk bellowed. 

On screen, the view corkscrewed as the ship rolled like a drill to force it’s way through the narrow gap within the wreckage of the last of the tactical cubes remaining on the field of battle. 

As they cleared, so did the view to show Borg ships warping out. 

“Cheers erupted all around as the sight pushed one simple fact to the surface … They had survived what would become known as “the passage through hell” and “the day the lost fleets returned.” 

But Hauk knew the battle might now be over, but tending to their wounded and those in distress was only beginning. 

And for that, they would need help.  

“Open a channel to Starfleet Command.” 

Ka’nej Hauk 

Respectfully, 

–Alan Tripp

Aka. “Ka’nej Hauk”  

–— OUT OF STORY —

Thus ends the Darkstar series which brings the various elements of Darkstar Command into the STO timeline.

Next story will be a postscript epilogue between this post and the next set.

The post Darkstar: “End of the Tunnel” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Beowulf

—Last Time—

“Where who went, Captain?” asked Sar at tactical, the Romulan’s expression one of curiosity.

“Starfleet’s original 27th Expeditionary Fleet,” Alan Sollace answered. “Aka. ‘The Lost Fleet.’”  

—And Now—

“It’s one of the great mysteries,” he continued. 

“An entire fleet went missing while out on some sort of mission,” the captain explained. 

“Official story was training maneuvers, but most believe they were on some sort of covert mission.”

“We too had a fleet that went missing around that time,” the Romulan tactical officer, Sar, noted. 

She shuddered slightly. 

“It was all covered up, and any talk of it was squashed to the point of you’d not speak of it out of fear of disappearing.”  

“It appears they went to do battle with one another and something happened with that … anomaly …. Event … Whatever it was and dragged them here as it did us,” Alan speculated. 

He then pointed at the screen. 

“And that Starfleet captain I do believe is a distant relative … several generations removed.” 

That’s when the klaxons sounded … the one marking attempted unauthorized beam ins. 

Sar’s fingers crossed her panel as she absorbed the readings. 

“Borg are trying to punch through our shields to beam in. … So far, they’ve been unsuccessful.” 

“But we all know that might not last,” he noted. 

“Break out the swords and knives,” he ordered. 

—

Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Sam Houston

“We’ve got Borg punching through our shields, Captain,” Lt. Apojyn reported calmly. 

She’d trained her people well, one lesson being to maintain a sense of calm even in battle.

“So far deck five is the only breach,” the Bajoran added.

“Break out the swords and the knives,” she ordered. 

—

 Scene: Main Bridge, U.S.S. Beowulf

“Swords?” asked the chief tactical officer. 

“Swords,” Alan said. 

“During my first mission aboard the U.S.S. Nelson …,” Alan continued.

—U.S.S. Sam Houston—

“… we encountered a lone Borg Cube,” Ahlayna continued, speaking to Houston’s chief tactical officer. 

—U.S.S. Beowulf—

“They boarded the ship …” said Alan. “… and while helping repel them, I made use of this family sword,” he patted the sword at his side.

—U.S.S. Sam Houston—

Ahlayna reached up to touch the hilt of the sword strapped to her back.

“Who would have thought that something as simple as a bladed weapon would slice through the Borg personal shields like a knife through butter,” she said. 

“So, pull out what’s stored in the armory and replicate whatever else needed …” 

—U.S.S. Beowulf—

“… and tell the crew to not be afraid to use them if it comes down to being assimilated and sticking them with the pointy end,” Alan finished. 

Thinking of the Nelson brought back fond memories of that ship and crew, but he quickly pushed those thoughts from his head. 

They had a threat to deal with and then something occurred to him. 

The ships of the Lost Fleet would have no idea who the Borg were, what they represented and how to meet that threat. 

“Frak,” he muttered before turning to communications. 

“Contact the Excalibur and tell them we are going to talk with the older ships and brief them on the Borg threat,” he ordered. “Then get me the captain of the U.S.S. Red Wolf.” 

— OUT OF STORY —

Alan Sollace is the older male version of Ahlayna Sollace. Both are technically the same person, but from different realities … different timelines.

The added twist is that in the STO universe, Sollace was born female.

The post Darkstar: “Break out the cutlery” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

The bridge of the U.S.S. Thunder Strike was a hive of flurried activity. 

“YES! YES! YES!”

Capt. Urshyra Sollace swiveled her command chair to look towards Lesli Mestre, currently climbing out from the innards of one of the starboard side consoles. 

The chief engineer had a satisfied smirk on her face as she checked readings while confirming momentarily with someone unseen, elsewhere on the ship. 

“Good news?” asked the captain. 

“In that sensors are operational again as is the main viewer.” 

The forward viewscreen flickered to life showing ships … a LOT of ships … out there in the space beyond and surrounding them. 

The anomaly was gone, but those ships out there weren’t just the Starfleet and Romulan fleets that just minutes before had been in the heat of battle. 

Ships out there now included what seemed Starfleet in style but vastly different from any vessel that she knew of currently in the fleet. 

And was that one beyond Klingon? … And what were those damned geometrically shaped things out there? … Ships of some kind? 

[“We are the Borg. … You will be assimilated. … Resistance is futile.”] 

“Who the fuck are the Borg?” Delza sputtered without realizing it. 

“That’s one of the things we are going to have to figure out,” Urshyra said, ignoring the language for the moment. 

As if on cue, the ship rocked as a beam of green light connected them to one of the cube shaped. 

The Andorian’s fingers danced across her console. 

“Tractor beam, Captain,” Delza called out. 

From across the view screen a massive ship in a Starfleet configuration sliced between their ship and the Cube, phasers slicing out the second of Cube where the beam’s emitter had previously originated. 

As the ship rotated, the name U.S.S. Excalibur was clearly visible across the ship’s saucer as was a registry of NCC-172664. 

That caused an eyebrow to raise. 

“THAT is a lot of digits,” helmsman Johnson whispered. “Where the hell are we?” 

“The proper question might be … ‘WHEN the hell are well?’” returned their science officer, Norovek. 

Delivery of the comment was as deadpan as you’d expect from any member of the science chief’s species. 

“I’ve cross checked star positions and determined we have most likely traveled through time, Captain,” she continued. “Although I can’t say exactly how far forward or backwards that might have been.” 

“Most likely forward with all those digits,” Urshyra muttered absently. 

Toss in the fact just minutes previously, she’d watched as the Excalibur … the NCC-1664 … had fallen victim to the Romulans. 

Still … Who the F were these Borg?

“Captain, receiving a hail. … It’s the Romulans,” 

“Main viewer,” she ordered.

She involuntarily straightened her uniform and in her seat just prior to the view changing to that of a female Romulan that seemed to wear the rank of a ship Commander. 

Urshyra bit her tongue and kept her voice as neutral as possible. 

“What can we do for you, Commander …?” 

[“Commander Daenerys of the warbird Elessar, Captain …???”]

“Capt. Urshyra Sollace … commanding the U.S.S. Thunder Strike.” 

[“…Capt. Sollace. … I suggested that we set aside our … differences … for the moment and see if we can work together to survive … Whatever this is.”]

It didn’t take a Vulcan to see the logic in the plan.  Besides, it would give them one less enemy to fight when you had an unknown like these Borg ready to … What did they call it? … “Assimilate” you? 

“I think we can agree to that.”

As a sign of good faith, she swiveled her chair slightly towards communications. 

“Henson, signal our ships not to engage with the Romulans for the moment.” 

Then turned back towards the viewer. 

“What do you suggest?” 

[“That we act jointly … Gather our ships together to face off and stand against these aliens.”]

“And the other ships out there?” 

A smile tugged at the corner of the Romulan’s face. 

[“One threat at a time, Captain. … One threat at a time.”]

—

Meanwhile, on the bridge of the Excelsior II-class U.S.S. Beowulf, another communication’s officer swiveled in her chair. 

“Captain, I just intercepted a transmission between a Romulan ship and one of those older Starfleet ships you might want to hear.”

“Don’t I have enough going on already?” Alan half joked. 

He’d been studying damage reports being fed to him by his first officer while also listening to instructions dispatched to the fleet (at least those ships the Beowulf had been with before coming to this place) by the Admiral aboard the Excalibur who was trying to rally their forces to faceoff against the greater threat … the Borg. 

“Ok, let’s hear it,” he ordered.

The lower right corner of the main viewer shifted to show a pair of Romulan and Starfleet officers, both dressed in the outdated uniforms of ship commanders of a different era – two sides of a singular conversation. 

–
STARFLEET: [“What can we do for you, Commander …?”]

ROMULAN: [“Commander Daenerys of the warbird Elessar, Captain …???”]

STARFLEET: [“Capt. Urshyra Sollace … commanding the U.S.S. Thunder Strike.”]

Alan came out of his command chair at the name. 

ROMULAN: [“…Capt. Sollace. … I suggested that we set aside our … differences … for the moment and see if we can work together to survive … Whatever this is.”]

STARFLEET: [“I think we can agree to that.”]

STARFLEET (to someone at the edge of the view): [“Henson, signal our ships not to engage with the Romulans for the moment.”] 

Then the Starfleet captain turned back towards the viewer. 

STARFLEET: [“What do you suggest?”] 

ROMULAN: [“That we act jointly … Gather our ships together to face off and stand against these aliens.”]

STARFLEET: [“And the other ships out there?”] 

ROMULAN: [“One threat at a time, Captain. … One threat at a time.”]   

And then both faded from the screen.

“So THIS is where they went!” Alan said to myself, although loud enough still to be heard. 

More than a few faces turned his way.

“Where who went, Captain?” asked Sar at tactical, the Romulan’s expression one of curiosity.

“Starfleet’s original 27th Expeditionary Fleet. … aka. ‘The Lost Fleet.’”  

—– OUT OF STORY —–

AT LAST! …. I’ve been trying to reach the point that the Lost Fleet would not just become lost but actually get found. It’s the first step to me getting these captains and ships to their new timelines.

The post Darkstar: “The Borg and the Missing” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

“Captain! … We’ve got a live one over here!” Jenkins yelled from across the bridge, his tricorder sounding that singular ping of detection.

Shallana picked her way across the shattered remains of this ship’s bridge trying to reach her crewman and the survivor he’d found. 

About halfway across the command well, her commbadge pinged. 

[“Captain, a word with you I must have.”]

“What is it, Commander?” 

Commander Adoy had been with her for many years now to a point she no longer saw him as her first officer, but as family. 

His timing was never the best, however, and his news seldom a positive. 

[“Beamed off survivors from uncaminated decks, we have. Borg circling, they are. Boarding us, begun they have.”] 

His speech patterns were a bit different, but had a sing-song quality to them … once you got use to it. 

“Make sure security teams are suitably armed and initiate Borg-Tango-Tango-Delta defensive countermeasures,” she ordered. “Don’t lose my ship while I’m gone.” 

She glanced in passing at the ship’s dedication plaque which lay scorched on the decking nearby … “U.S.S. Temporal Storm” … “Premonition-class”.

“Have any boarded this ship as yet?” she asked, almost to Jenkins. 

[“Yet … they have not.  Bigger prizes to claim, they have.”] 

“Again … Protect the ship and defend the crew at ALL costs,” she ordered. “And maintain those transporter locks!” 

Jenkins punctuated the sound of the channel closing with the clatter of tossing debris to one side as he worked to dig out the humanoid below. 

Shallana joined his efforts, both working together til the face of a human woman wearing a captain’s pips and a variant of a Starfleet uniform different from their own. 

Flipping out her own tricorder, the readings cleared with proximity to the victim. 

Injuries severe … ranging from cracked ribs, brushed organs, crushed legs, internal bleeding and a head injury. 

As she touched the woman’s face, the woman stirred, opening her eyes and focusing on her for just a moment. 

“Mother,” she whispered. “I knew … you’d … come for … me …” 

Before darkness again claimed her. 

But at her voice, a chill ran down Shallana Ironwolf’s spine. 

Brushing away more debris with a purpose, she found the lady’s commbadge and flipped it over. 

Emblazoned on the back was the name of this injured captain … Brianna Carys Llewellyn. 

Her daughter’s name. … The nine-year-old daughter she’d left back on earth a few weeks ago for her to spend time with their family … the girl’s grandmother specifically. 

Shallana’s heart raced as a mother’s panic and fear for their child took hold. 

This was impossible.  IM…POSSIBLE!!!

With fevered speed, she rushed to clear the debris as the tricorder’s recording of the woman’s heartbeat faltered. 

NO NO NO NO!!!!

Her own breathing caught in her throat. Her own heart beat so fast she would swear later it stopped. 

Shallana clicked her badge before pinning it to Bri. 

“ADOY! … LOCK ONTO MY BADGE …. BEAM ONE TO SICKBAY NOW NOW NOW NOW!” 

OUT OF STORY

This is a short one … One quiet (if you can call it that) moment before the words toss us into the heat of battle and the fight they must wage to save themselves.

The post Darkstar: “Within the Calm of the Storm” appeared first on The Malstrom Expanse.

By Alan Tripp

–

2402

”What in the hell is that?” Allen called out from the command chair of the Fenrir. 

“Level 12 shockwave originating from …” 

The science officer had no chance to finish his report as the shockwave seemed to pounce with blinding speed striking the gathered fleet like a brick wall against a car only in this case it was the wall moving and not the cars parked before it. 

Fenrir was but one of several ships dispatched to investigate the spreading anomaly. 

They’d arrived together just moments before when suddenly said anomaly … attacked. 

Allen Ironforge had seen many days in his life but never something like the beast before them. 

The starfield spun in a dizzying array on the main viewer as the Excelsior II variant moved like a billiard ball when the pack spread across the table following the initial break of the balls at the start of a game. 

“Helm,” he called out … climbing back into his chair. “Get this fucking ship under control NOW!” 

On the screen, two starships closer to the epicenter exploded into bristling fireballs while another had a nacelle sheered off completely.

“Turn us into the wave,” he added. 

As the ship slowly began to right itself and turn back towards the anomaly, said special anomaly had transformed into something of a maelstrom, complete with plasma lightning and shockwaves at random intervals. 

Sensors showed the positions of the various ships in the task force as they began to fall towards the epicenter of the storm before them. 

Ironforge wanted to issue another command to his crew even if to tell them all that maybe they should kiss their collective asses goodbye, but before another word of command or reassurance could be spoken, the storm magnified its intensity, grabbed all of the fleet and sucked them into the maw of its mouth before resealing the rupture to the fabric of time and space like the windows of a hurricane might suck shut a door it had just moments before kicked up with the bruital force of its deadly winds. 

After six months of searching, Starfleet Command would have no choice but to report them all missing and presumed killed. 

—

Hidden in Time

Capt. Brianna Llewellyn drummed her fingers on the arm of her command chair. 

It had all been building to this. 

She watched events playing out in what seemed realtime via a holo-display of the timeline that floated before her in the heart of the command well of Temporal Storm’s main bridge. 

They were currently tracking the convergence of several fleets currently traveling through …. Or maybe tumbling through would be a more apt description … unstable conduit or temporal wormhole that seemed to reach out like an octopus to snatch more prey as it hurled towards the final destination. 

Her fingers drummed on the arm of her chair.  

It was almost time.  … Almost. 

—

Another Time, Another Reality

Shallana had been given command of the operation, guiding the fleet from the vantage point of the Highlander’s bridge. 

“Initiate deflector beam …. NOW!”, she called out over an open fleet channel. 

The floating tactical display showed each ship positioned at various points surrounding the spreading pool of the anomaly. Including above and below. 

[“How long do we have to maintain the beam?”] Alan Sollace asked over the open channel. 

Hearing his voice caused Shallana’s eyes to drift to the position of Alan’s command, the U.S.S. Beowulf. 

“For as long as it takes,” she replied. 

After several seconds, two sets of readings appeared right and left in the display above her. 

One in blue and one in red. 

The readings in blue showed that the beams were having an effect in the stability of the anomaly. 

The ones in red showed that instability was causing a rippling effect. 

And as the rippling effect spread, everything … every object … seemed to shimmer as if visually vibrating. 

That visual vibration grew to a point it seemed that her human eyes had taken on double vision as there now seemed a two of everything. 

The second of all at first seemed as a growing shadow that vibrated around each person, each object. 

But with each passing second, the effect grew more and more pronounced. 

[“What in Grethor’s name is happening?”] a Klingon voice called out over the channel. 

Ka’nej Hauk’s voice didn’t sound so much shocked, surprised or even irritated so much as … curious. 

But Shallana had no answers as she herself had no frakking idea. 

Yet as everything finally began to settling back down into singleness, the display now showed twice as many ships with dublicate readings of the fleet now appearing around the anomaly. 

There were now two of all ships. 

[“OUR DEFLECTOR IS STARTING TO BURN OUT!”], the voice of of Capt. Draqarys aboard the Thalesia.  [“WE CAN’T MAINTAIN THE BEAM!!”] 

“HOLD ON AND KEEP THOSE BEAMS ON THE ANOMALY!” Shallana called out to the now doubled fleet. “IT’S WORKING!” 

The anomaly was beginning to shrink.  

And the more it contracted the faster it went.

Also the more turbulent as waves of what seemed like tornadoes and lightning spawned all along a raging hurricane seemed to erupt. 

But it was over in mere moments as suddenly the anomaly seemed to collapse on itself and snapped closed like a door slamming shut. 

And with the slamming of that door, the newly formed twin fleet disappeared with it. 

It wasn’t long before the fleet was able to stand down with Shallana passing command back to the Admiral. 

— 

Meanwhile …

Shallana witnessed the anomaly snap ship via both sensors and her tactical display and with it she and the fleet ship commanded for this operation were sucked out of known space/time and hurled down a rabbit hole of a temporal storm / conduit that had dragged through through the anomaly and then slammed it shut behind itself. 

And with it, she realized the twin copies of themselves had disappeared, most likely safe and sound on the safe side of the now closed doorway. 

The Highlander groaned under the stress of her passage along these unknown turbulent pathways they were being dragged along against their will. 

In her display, three ships imploded into buts of shrapnel that spread across the wake of a fleet flung across who knows what to who knows where … 

“HANG ON!” She yelled, consoles exploding around the bridge.

They would be lucky to survive to reach their destination … wherever THAT might be. 

—

Hidden in Time

Brianna continued to watch the display when certain events in the timeline shifted out of temporal alignment. 

“No No No No NO!”

She came out of her seat for a better look. 

One apparent new pebble tossed into the river prepared to uproot everything they’d worked to achieve. 

But who tossed the pebble? 

The timeline continued to shift along new pathways, leaving but one choice. 

They had one more thing to do. 

—

2408

The U.S.S. Sam Houston drifted alone through the void when all of a sudden alarm klaxons began sounding all across the Shangri-La II-class starship. 

Capt. James Draljo Henry held firm to his chair, resisting the urge to rise. 

When facing the unknown, the half Rigellian / half human captain had learned the hard way that rising during an alert klaxon tended to known said commanding officer onto his arse. 

So he held his chair. 

“Tactical, what have you got?”, his voice calm and measured despite the background wail of the alert klaxon. 

“Vortex opening ahead of us, captain,” Sollace reported just as calmly. 

This wasn’t their first rodeo dance with the unknown. 

However, when the forward view zeroed in on the anomaly and that anomaly began spitting objects out with increasing speed and force, one could feel the tension levels begin to rise around the bridge. 

“Objects coming out with increasing velocity,” S’Rasian called from the science station. 

At first, the caitians tail maintained a steady swish behind the Chief Science Officer, however that quickly changed to rigid and still. 

“Now reading metallic debris consistent with hull materials common to starships,” the feline continued. 

“Captain, I’m registering whole starships coming through …. Starfleet, Romulan, Klingon …. BORG!” 

“Battlestations!” The captain yelled, unable to keep himself from rising out of his chair. 

On the monitor, the anomaly spread outwards like a shockwave with blinding speed. 

No one had time to react as it plowed through the Houston’s shields and tossed the ship backwards like an angry kid tossing a ragdoll. 

James Henry knew he should have stayed in his chair as he felt himself flying through air with his command chair passing beneath him. 

He made a grab for the chair. Really, he did. But it was just out of reach or his timing was a second too late as it was gone as soon as it was seen. 

And then the world went black. 

—

Lt. Cmdr. Ahlayna Sollace dragged herself back up to her feet from where she lay on the decking. 

Tactical station was smashed beyond repair. 

Seeing this, her eyes quickly scanned the rest of the bridge, assessing the damage like a seasoned tactical officer.  

Then her eyes found the mutilated body of her captain buried in the debris of what had been the aft station at the very back of the bridge. 

A quick glance told her all she needed to know. 

He’d been hurled over his command chair, over her tactical station (herself included) and plowed with incredible force into the station behind her own. 

The impact had most likely snapped his neck as it pulverized bones and twisted the man’s body into impossible angles. 

Captain dead, she looked over towards where the first officer normally sat. 

First Officer had faired better than the captain, but only in that her body had not been broken and pulverized. 

No, she’d received shrapnel to the back of the head, most likely from flying remains of the console destroyed by the captain’s body. 

The first officer likely didn’t even know what hit her. 

Ahlayna took a moment to figure out who to look to … who was in command now … when she realized … she was. 

Those members of the bridge crew still able to do so climbed back into their seats or back up to their stations. 

Considering her own station was non-existent and considering the captain and first officer were both dead, the chief tactical officer / second officer slipped into the center seat, pushing the thoughts of grief and horror from her mind as she had a ship to tend to. 

She looked to the forward monitor just in time to see the remains of a Borg cube spiraling through space like an out of control freight train that had jumped the tracks. 

First thought was amazement as the Borg had been eradicated by Picard and his people aboard the Enterprise D a few years ago. 

But those thoughts were short loved as that runaway freight train of a cube was on a collision course with their ship and no time to get the hell out of its way. 

“EVASIVE MANUVEURS!!!!” 

She yelled the words anyway even as she steeled herself knowing they were all about to join the captain in the afterlife. 

From the top of the view screen front of the bridge, a shadow descended from above with torps and phasers dancing even as Ahlayna herself felt a shimmer in the core of her existence begin to shift and change. 

It was a strange sensation to say the least and not quite what she’d been expecting her last moments to be like. 

A captain for all of one minute and twenty-two seconds she through to herself, yet that shifting sensation magnified just everything began to ripple. 

It was of course a fraction of a second we’re talking about here but then when one faces death, things sometimes seem to slow down. 

Do they not? 

— 

2408

“Fire!” 

Captain Llewellyn held firm to the armrests of her command chair even as her commands were carried out. 

Torpedoes and phasers lanced out and danced their way towards the out of control Borg cube even as the view on the viewer slowly rotated 180ish degrees. 

On her exist from the temporal vortex generated by the temporal core of the U.S.S. Temporal Storm, they’d been forced to rotate the ship to both avoid incoming debris and to shift into a position to save their version of the timeline.  

Or at least save it enough so that they pieces remained on the board with a chance of preserving it at the very least. 

Torps and phasers ripped into the hull of the cube, shattering it a big cube crafted from the LEGO toy blocks she’d played with as a kid. Said cube being smashed by a massive sledge hammer at any rate. 

The cube broke apart but only into still massive pieces that were still much too big to accomplish the goal they set out to accomplish. 

On top of what was looking like failures, a large chunk of cube smashed into the temporal core located normally above the primary hull of the Premonition-class starship causing said core to rupture, causing a ripple effect with unknown consequences to be unleashed on the timeline. 

“Shite,” the Brianna said from her chair, helpless to do anything but watch events now unfold as the temporal cruiser spun off on a new course in an uncontrolled tumble across the path of the incoming fleets of ships, debris and who knew what else. 

—

The changes Ahlayna and the Sam Houston were already in motion before and when the the temporal wave from the unknown starship that had tried to save them, colliding  with one of the large chunks of cube in the process.

The shimmering and shifting was now within her very existence as suddenly new memories began to find their way into who she was as an individual and person. 

She was now remembering events and part of a life that differed from the one originally lived … at least from her original point of view. 

Around her, the existence of the Sam Houston shifted and changed as the bridge took on a mirage effect and for a moment seemed as if two different designs trying to superimpose themselves over one another … trying to coexist in the same moment of space and time. 

One finally won out over the other, however, as the bridge she’d originally known faded from existence to become one different and slightly smaller. 

On her collar the black / hollow pip of a lieutenant command became the full gold of a commander with herself sitting more firmly in what was most definitely HER command seat. 

A chunk of Borg cube tumbled towards them with force and course that would surely have destroyed the Shangri-La-class version of the Sam Houston along with what remained of her crew. 

If it were still the Shangri-La class. 

Just as Ahlayna had shifted and changed, so had the Houston along with those aboard her. 

The smaller, experimental Okinawa II-class frigate rolled lengthwise hard to port with incredible speed as the quickstep thrusters worked as designed, moving the ship with speed and grace most starships lacked. 

The tech was cutting edge via Daystrom Spaceframe Industries and being tested for the first time in the field with Sam Houston as the testbed for it … and other newer more experimental tech. 

The ship’s captain gripped the arms of her chair harder than normal, fighting down waves of nausea as she came to terms with her new set of memories and all that came with it. 

Looking behind her, she noted there was indeed no body of one Capt. James Henry as James Henry was not the commanding officer of this version of the Sam Houston in the current / altered timeline. 

She was. 

—

Even as the U.S.S. Highlander cruised through normal space on its way back to its home port in  another year / another reality, a temporal copy of that same ship and crew came erupting from the space time breach with incredible speed and force … along with what remained of their fleet. 

Shallana Ironwolf couldn’t keep herself from coughing from the acrid smoke as the bridge filled with smoke. 

Only when fears of being tossed around subsided did she bolt from her chair to see to injured crew and ship. 

The monitor had moments of static, but eventually stabilized into a relatively clear image of volcano like rupture spewing starships … both somewhat intact like hers as well as debris. 

It also spewed large chunks of rock that the back of her mind speculated might have been pulled from an asteroid field somewhere, sometime. 

She stepped over a member of her crew with the vacant eyed stare of death to reach another living member even as she tapped her comm badge. 

“Bridge to sickbay.  We have wounded most like everywhere on the ship, but send a team to the bridge as well as we definitely have them up here.” 

“Don’t move til we can get you scanned,” she ordered. “If you have a spinal injury, last thing we want to do is make it worse.” 

—

The Borg Queen watched the displays floating around where she was in the queen’s chamber aboard her ship. 

She saw many of her ships damaged or in pieces, but also saw many fully intact. 

Their fleet had been sucked into the same phenomenon that resulted (as far as she could determine) from when Species 3783 fired a new yet unstable weapon that impacted in the vincity of one of her Borg’s new exit aperture’s. 

The resulting explosion of both weapon and aperture caused a 1 in a million eruption in space time that sent spread across the timeline snatching everything in its path and depositing all here in what for her was the future. 

And there was something strange about this future. … There were no Borg signals present here that she as queen could tap, connect and interact with. 

As far as she could tell, they were all that existed of the Borg Collective in this so called future. 

Not that it mattered, she was here now as were several others of her collective. 

They would simply assimilate and rebuild … using the echoes she could find that proved there were elements of a former collective left intact. 

They just needed a new queen … her … to reawaken them. 

She sent her thoughts out to her collective as it surrounded her, ordering those ships intact to follow her now and those who could not follow to repair what of their ships they could, assimilate the surrounding species and ships … and then join her after having done so. 

— 

Brianna watched as the Borg Queen’s ship left with those ships of the Collective able to follow her, realizing in that moment that the flaw in her calculations had been in not considering Borg involvement. 

And now a new Borg Queen was being unleashed on a timeline and galaxy that had worked hard to irraticate them just a few years before this one. 

—

Down deep in the belly of the U.S.S. Sam Houston, a humanoid figure dressed in black packed up the last of his gear and gave the room (and ship) a final look before activating the device that would transport away and back from whence he came. 

He’d come here with a purpose and that purpose had been successfully done. 

Accomplished his goal in helping it … her … to survive. 

It was all that could be done in this particular time, in this particular place. 

The rest was up to them now. 

May the gods be with them. … With them all. 

A press if his thumb, the recall devise hummed to life, winking him and his gear away and back him. 

— 

Ahlayna Sollace listened as a new voice erupted over her speakers. 

It was a voice heard by her previously only in recordings and one that even then had radiated a chill up and down her spine. 

Something thought buried deep so as to never be heard again. 

[“We are the Borg. … You will be assimilated. … Resistance is futile.”]

—

Respectfully, 

— Ka’nej Hauk

Out of Story

At long last, the past (and future) catches up with the present as I’ve brought all the players to the same time, the same place.

Next story is already being written.

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