Perfection, 23 of 28
"PERFECTION"
by Jim Smith
Fine print: I don't own Star Trek and I'm not claiming to. I just own the story. Ask me before you do anything with it.
Chapter Twenty-three.
Data surveyed the wreckage on the Excelsior's bridge, and found that a bulkhead had collapsed on top of Sub-commander Velor. Before anyone even had a chance to contact sickbay, the android had moved across the room and was hauling the enormous debris off his first officer. Once a medic was available to stabilize Velor's condition, Data returned to the center of the bridge...or what was left of it.
"Report!" he said, over the sound of burning equipment, coughing crewman, and the rattling hull.
Rik'tarrin was among the first to her feet after the last hit, and was pulling up reports from multiple stations until the other posts could be manned. "Only six ships made it out of the last strafing run! Shields at eleven percent! Engineering reports a coolant leak! Hull breaches on decks fourteen and twenty-two!"
They'd been at this for over an hour. With Borg forces guarding Metanexus 211 at full strength, they could only hope to capture the facility through a combination of luck and guile. So Data had devised a strategy of concealing the size of the armada with cloaking devices and sensor ghosts, while picking off cubes one by one. His forces were making progress, but it was slow going. It was only a matter of time before the Borg adapted to these tactics, which could even lead the Collective to determine a way to detect the cloaked Alliance ships. And with so many Borg vessels to contend with, they had yet to even put a dent into the immense metanexus.
Data found his way back to the captain's chair and punched up the latest statistics. He'd lost nearly a third of his ships. Borg losses were more difficult to gauge, but he estimated that the enemy fleet was approximately 73.148% of it's strength before the attack. The battle could still be won, but it would be a very bloody matter.
"Notify the fleet," he ordered, "that we will be regrouping for another pass. Waves beta and delta will re-cloak. Gamma and epsilon will de-cloak on my mark."
"Captain!" Rik'tarrin interrupted. "I'm picking up massive energy surges in the Borg ships."
Data looked to her quizzically. "To which ships do you refer, Colonel?"
She double-checked her readings, just to be sure. "All of them."
In unison, every cube and sphere in the battlefield came to a full stop, and generated a bright green glow. The Excelsior's sensors lit up with a cacophony of neutrino and tachyon signatures.
"Mister Thompson!" the captain shouted. "Alert all ships to get clear of the transwarp conduits, immediately!"
Most of them were able to comply. Those that didn't were crushed, caught in the subspace undertow as the immense Borg vessels were pulled into their conduits. In a matter of seconds, the entire Collective fleet was gone. A strange calm fell over the sector, as the Allied armada found itself with nothing left to fight. Only Metanexus 211 remained, though it could only wait for the attackers to enter weapons range.
"She did it." Data closed his eyes and took a long, deep sigh.
"Sir?" Rik'tarrin asked.
"My apologies. I was referring to Admiral Janeway's diversionary tactic, which now appears to have taken effect." He took the time to survey the bridge, and the debris floating across the viewscreen. Before he had gained the capacity for emotion, Data had never comprehended the purpose of expending time in this manner. However, his military service had shown him the value of this experience, even if he could not quantify it.
Colonel Rik'tarrin, on the other hand, was only interested in finishing the mission. "What are your orders, Captain?"
"Prepare to separate the ship," he finally explained. "Assemble a skeleton crew to man the saucer. All other available personnel will report to the drive section to assist in repairs to engineering. Mister Thompson, I want a full status report from each of our ships. I will then determine which of them will join us in the final push."
"Yes sir," Thompson answered hastily. "So then...you think we've really won, sir?"
Data shook his head slightly. "Steady, Mister Thompson. Idiomatically, we have not yet emerged from a heavily forested area into less difficult terrain."
***
When Vystir transmitted information to the Collective about Unimatrix Zero's new weapon, only a handful of Borg vessels were dispatched to respond. By the time the weapon had been armed, and power signatures could be detected across a dozen sectors, several dozen ships had changed course for a closer look. After General Korok destroyed a cube with one shot of the omega mortar, every Borg spacecraft within five hundred light years had rendezvoused at Intercomplex 934.
The Zeroes were in poor shape to defend themselves. Within the station, the Xhiryptyr'x were wreaking havoc--their uprising had quickly degenerated into a directionless riot. Their fleet amounted to a several dozen secondhand cubes and spheres, which were now hopelessly outnumbered. The omega mortar that was to be their great hope was now their first and last line of defense. Korok was comfortable with that arrangement.
He now had more targets than he knew what to do with. But then, that made it difficult to miss. With Admiral Janeway looking on in horror, the old Klingon warrior rapidly fired into the cloud of enemy ships. Every hit was a kill, every shot took at least one ship with it.
The mortar worked by using a field of omega molecules to generate electrostrong forces, which were conducive to producing mass quantities of magnetic monopoles, which would then be blasted out of the intercomplex's massive barrel. Upon collision with a target, the monopoles accelerated the proton decay of conventional matter, turning atoms into a soup of gamma rays and positrons. The fusillade turned whatever it struck into a chain reaction of nuclear and antimatter explosions. There was no defense against firepower of this nature.
And then the Xhiryptyr'x fleet arrived.