Perfection, 28 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-eight.
They weren't beaten yet. There was still a chance.
The omega molecules aboard the Hrunting, which made the shuttle the most valuable real estate in Borg space. And once Kreighen controlled the Hrunting, once he had reached the pilot's seat.
Sensors and viewscreens came to life as he ran startup routines. Behind him he could hear the others fumbling about in the limited space of the cabin. Once he had a clear picture from outside, he could see that his slim hope was confirmed: The mob of Borg drones had the shuttle surrounded, but were keeping their distance.
But he couldn't waste time worrying about the Borg. Or even Jimenez, still pulling himself to his feet after the thrashing he'd received from Tirava. The biggest threat now was Merrani Vystir, still sprawled on the ground after Ajax's nerve pinch, but not for long. If the Betazoid's telepathy had really enthralled the Borg from hundreds of kilometers away, as she'd claimed, then there was still a danger that she could subdue anyone aboard the Hrunting.
He could have locked weapons on her. In fact, as Tirava took her place at tactical, she could have annihilated everyone standing outside the shuttle before he'd have a chance to lock out her station. But with a quick glance over his shoulder, their eyes met, and found consensus. No matter how much sense it made, neither of them had the stomach to open fire. Vystir had taken Jimenez away from them, and knowing the pain of that they couldn't stomach the thought of taking her away from him.
That meant they had to leave, now, which meant there was no hope of taking Jimenez with them. As Kreighen completed takeoff and raised shields, he took one last look through the canopy at his former friend, ranting maniacally amid his Borg followers, and fought back a tear. He would have to shoot out the bay doors to escape, and for a few moments he couldn't decide whether it would be better if Jimenez had the sense to get away before the sudden decompression. But the point was moot--Intercomplex 934 sealed the breach almost as soon as Hrunting passed through it.
Admiral Janeway, General Korok, and Commander Hardcastle had their own ideas about what needed to be done, but on the Hrunting they were simply passengers. Whatever authority Starfleet and Unimatrix Zero ever had over the shuttle had long since been wiped out of the computer. Kreighen was in command, Tirava was the first officer. And Ajax, under the circumstances, as de facto chief of security. So the holographic soldier struggled to keep the passengers out of the way of the crew.
Korok in particular was livid. "You wretched bIHnuch! We must go back and destroy that petaQ while we still can!"
Krieghen didn't even look at him as he responded in kind. "Fuck off, you backstabbing son of a bitch."
Gravely offended (and mildly confused) by human profanities, Korok turned his attention to Tirava. "You couldn't kill him, could you, taHqeq? You honorless little sli'Vak..."
"I assume you need him alive," Tirava grumbled to Kreighen.
"I sure as hell don't need him conscious," he suggested. And so, while he performed evasive maneuvers around dozens of Borg vessels, Tirava fractured Korok's skull.
Janeway chose her words carefully before taking up Korok's point. "With...respect, Commander, you can't outrun these Borg. Sooner or later they'll recapture omega, and rejoin the Collective with everything Jimenez has learned about the Xhiryptyr'x."
"I know that, Admiral," Kreighen snapped. "That's why I'm not trying to outrun them. I just have to stay ahead of them. I assume that you couldn't safely neutralize the omega molecules."
"There's too much of it," she answered. "And not enough time. We'd need a gravimetric torpedo to get rid of them."
Hardcastle, who hadn't even been aboard a Federation spacecraft in over twenty years, stopped marveling at the vessel's design long enough to comment. "Even this shuttle doesn't have that kind of firepower."
"Yes, it does." Kreighen looked over to Tirava as he addressed the Hrunting itself. "Computer, this is Lieutenant Commander Jacob A. Kreighen, commanding officer, requesting security access. Initiate destruct sequence one, code seven alpha, three mu."
Tirava's antenna dipped, and she lowered her head in resignation. "Computer, this is Lieutenant junior grade Tirava, first officer. Destruct sequence two, code sixteen zeta, zero psi."
It was a drastic solution, but these were drastic times. Aside from the presently indisposed Korok, they had all been Starfleet officers, trained (or programmed) to recognize their duty in any given situation. It was unacceptable to let the Borg leave this sector, but there was no way to defeat a fleet of this size without detonating the omega molecules. And the only sure way to do that was a runaway matter/antimatter reaction in the shuttle's warp core.
"Identity confirmed," Hrunting replied. "Destruct sequence completed and engaged. Awaiting final code and time for final countdown."
"Begin sixty-second countdown," Kreighen replied. "Code zero zero zero destruct zero." By rote, the computer initiated red alert status is it programmed the fuel injection systems to irreversibly overload at the specified time.
An uncomfortable silence followed, until Tirava changed the subject. "So is anyone going to tell me what happened to Ijhel?" Ajax turned away, immediately fascinated by a bulkhead.
"She's safe." Kreighen got out of his chair and approached his Andorian comrade. He'd dreamed for weeks of this reunion. He hadn't envisioned it going like this.
Neither had Tirava. "Good," she shrugged. "The way things were going, I half-expected she ran off to work for the Ferengi."
Kreighen took her blue hand in his. "Tirava...I just want you to know..." he couldn't help but laugh. "This is not what I had in mind..."
"I...was..." She startled to chuckle at him cracking up. "I was going to come back for you, pinksin," she joked. "You didn't give me enough time!"
"Kreighen, look!" Janeway drew their attention to a bright glow filling the canopy, before she took the helm herself. A scientist to the bitter end, she began gathering sensor data. "I'm picking up an unprecedented neurogenic field...no effect on the Borg or the station."
Kreighen returned to the cockpit and stood over her shoulder. "What about the Xhiryptyr'x?"
"They're...gone." Janeway swiveled her seat to confront him. "What was it Jimenez thought you knew about them?"
But the shuttle's computer got the last word. "Warning: ten seconds to auto-destruct. Nine... Eight... Seven... Six..."
***
There was a bright light, and then an enveloping warmth, and finally emptiness. And then a transporter pad.
Kreighen realized that he'd never even heard the shuttle's countdown reach "five." As he took stock, he found the other passengers of the Hrunting standing around him (or in Korok's case, lying). He'd beamed in facing the back of the pad, but that was enough to tell this wasn't a Borg ship. He doubted it was Xhiryptyr'x design either, though he couldn't put anything past them.
Could the Q have intervened? He turned around slowly, half-afraid to find himself hurled back in time. Again. But when he finally saw the rest of the transporter room, he recognized it as the same one he'd used to beam down to Intercomplex 934 in the first place. He was back on the Stormwind.
Along with a both a security detail and a team of medics, Captain Lancaster was there to greet the new arrivals. "Welcome aboard. Since I've no idea which of you require medical attention and which of you constitute a threat to my ship, I propose that you all come peacefully to sickbay, and we'll sort it out there. Are there any objections?"
Janeway was too surprised to be alive to put up a fight this time. Whatever her quarrel had been--or might still be--with Lancaster, she saw no point in continuing it now. "No, Captain," she smiled, raising her hands. "We won't resist. And we appreciate your fairness."
Even Kreighen had to admit that she was insufferably charming. "You heard the admiral, everybody," he said to the others. "No sudden moves...they're on edge just as much as we are." As he stepped off the pad, he looked to the captain. "How did you find us, sir?"
"I'd be at a loss to explain the complete recalibration of our targeting algorithms. I suggest you take it up with our new 'transporter chief.'" Lancaster motioned to his officers to stand at ease, and step aside. As they cleared away from the main console, Kreighen could see Utana Ijhel manning the post.
She looked exhausted, as one would upon rewriting an entire set of Starfleet subroutines in under an hour. But it was clear from her face that it had been worth it, to see her friends again. "It...it proved to be rather simple," she dissembled. "The real difficulty was convincing the captain to try."
The happy reunion was interrupted by an intense rumble reverberating through the hull. Not given to panic, Lancaster rode it out and tapped his commbadge. "Bridge, this is the captain. Report."
Mindek answered his summons. "Readings are limited, Captain. We've been hit by a massive shockwave, apparently caused by a subspace rupture near Intercomplex 934. We're clear of the phenomenon, but only barely. It measures..." Her voice wavered. "Sir, this can't be..."
"Report, Mister Mindek."
"Apologies, sir. Sensors show the rupture to be nine point four light years across."
***
Captain's log, stardate 63590.5.
Following the successful capture of Metanexus 211, the fleets that participated in the armada have spread out across the front lines, to address the remnants of Borg forces cut off from the Collective command structure. Cross-reference with Commodore's Log, stardate 63587.2, for my deepest appreciation and respect for the valor shown by the officers under my command, prior to my self-deactivation as acting commodore.
Following Admiral Janeway's failure to contact Allied Command, a task force led by the Excelsior has rendezvoused with the USS Stormwind, which was assigned to the admiral during Operation: Nimrod.
Preliminary reports from Captain Daniel Lancaster of the Stormwind have indicated that Unimatrix Zero was forced by the Borg to withdraw from Intercomplex 934. The station and at least four hundred Borg vessels are now considered a total loss, having been encompassed within a...phenomenon. See classified Captain's Log, protected entries, for further analysis and commentary.
The substantial losses suffered by Unimatrix Zero has necessitated an immediate response. In lieu of direct contact with Allied Command, I have agreed to participate in high-level discussions alongside Admiral Janeway, her adjutant Captain Elglen, and Captain Lancaster.
With Captain Data's people overseeing the repairs, and most of the top brass in the sector conferring with Unimatrix Zero's leasdership, most of the Stormwind personnel might as well have been on vacation. But for the crew of the Hrunting, it had been more difficult to rest and relax.
A day or two after the battle, Kreighen summoned them to his quarters, and served them drinks. Tirava and Ijhel were at least polite about it. Ajax didn't understand the gesture.
"Sir, you know holograms don't drink," he argued, though he did find the small glass intriguing.
Kreighen rolled his eyes. "First of all, Ajax, you're not under my command anymore, so call me Jake. Second, this is real Kentucky bourbon...okay, replicated, but the point is it's not that piss they make in Tennessee. So humor me."
"I don't have an alimentary canal, si--Jake."
Ijhel shook her head. Tirava began to smile. Kreighen gave up. "Look, when I give the toast, just pour it in your mouth, and we'll let God sort it out. Okay?" The sergeant seemed to accept that, so he held up his glass. "Here's to the shuttlecraft Hrunting, her crew, and to...to absent friends."
The commander breathed and sipped his bourbon as though it had come directly from heaven. Tirava nursed it until she was sure it wouldn't bite back. Ijhel knocked the whole thing back in one gulp, like a bottle of Cardassian kanar. Ajax opened his mouth and more or less tossed the beverage into his face. As Kreighen watched them all miss the point, his sorrow gave way to amusement.
Ajax wiped most of the drink off before he spoke again. "Do you believe he's dead?"
"Hard to say," Kreighen admitted as he wandered with his glass to the nearest window. The subspace rift could be seen even as the Stormwind was being towed at one-quarter impulse. "The explosion mostly destroyed subspace--I wouldn't know effect it had on matter. But either way, without subspace, it would take years to get to the intercomplex, and years for anybody to get out."
"I tried to get him," Ijhel confessed. "I know it might not have been wise, but I couldn't leave him. But there wasn't time, and...and..."
"We all tried to save him, Utana," Kreighen reassured her. "He didn't want to be saved. Hell, maybe somewhere in there, he and Vystir and all those Borg can build the more perfect Collective they wanted."
"If that happens," Tirava realized, "We could have an even bigger problem than the Borg to worry about."
"If it happens." Kreighen leaned against the window and sipped his drink. "Then again, maybe it's the Borg who'd have a problem. Maybe the Nathan Jimenez we thought we knew will get his head together, and see that the Federation isn't the bad guy out here."
"That remains to be seen," Ijhel noted. She noticed a wet spot Ajax missed, and tried to help him clean it off. "Oh, I agree with your general point, Jake. But technically, they still consider us outlaws. Admiral Janeway is better off with us out of the way, and General Korok isn't the type to forgive and forget."
"But they can't push us around this time," Tirava countered. "If they intend to get rid of us, I say we ask for a small starship, and a transwarp conduit to wherever we want to go. Let's just get out of here, and let them have their stupid war."
"What about Commander Hardcastle," Kreighen wondered.
"What about him?"
"I just thought...you and he..."
"Uzaveh..." Tirava's antennae--both of them, now that Doctor Ben-Aharon had applied a dermal regenerator to the severed one--signaled her frustration with him. "Jake, you and I need to talk about..."
But the door chimed before they could even discuss that. "Come on in," Kreighen responded, only to find his quarters filling with brass. Evidently after hashing out the future of the Alliance's relationship with Unimatrix Zero, they felt it necessary to run it by him.
Of the bunch, Captain Data was the most gregarious. "Ah!" he exclaimed, before going to shake hands with each of them personally. "Doctor Utana Ijhel...Sergeant Ajax...Lieutenant Tirava...Commander Jacob Kreighen."
"Call me Jake," Kreighen shrugged as he received the android's surprisingly strong handshake.
"Jake," Data repeated, with his most practiced trying-to-be-knowing smile. "Please pardon the intrusion, but I have had a great deal of information related to me about you all. So I decided I should make your acquaintance now, before the sergeant is decommissioned..."
"Decommissioned!?" Ijhel gasped. "What are you talking about? He's the latest prototype for a line of holographic soldiers!"
"Actually," Data clarified, his index finger firmly held upright, "he was the latest prototype eight months ago, before the Hollow Men project lost contact with you, Doctor. I regularly read their reports--I have a considerable interest in the study of artificial intelligence--and last month they decided to adopt a new framework for all further holo-programming."
"But why?" Ijhel was taking this considerably worse than Ajax himself.
"I am not privy to the...exact reasons for the decisions, but it appears the existing framework was considered too time-consuming to work with."
Ijhel was furious. "It was until I worked out the flaws! They can't do this to me, Captain! I refuse to abandon my work..."
"Then you no longer wish to participate in the project?"
"Of course not, but..." Ijhel looked to her creation, who was infuriatingly indifferent about this matter. "Mister Ajax is one of the finest individuals I've ever worked with. His service to my crew, and his assistance to my work, has been invaluable. I...need him. At my side."
Data took a moment to mull it over, which Captain Lancaster mistook for a chance to get to the point. "I believe we can table this issue for another time..."
"One moment, Captain," Data said, interrupting the interruption. "Perhaps I can offer a solution to Doctor Ijhel's dilemma. You could repurpose Mister Ajax to be an assistant to, rather than the subject of, your research and development."
"Wait..." Suddenly Ajax was much more concerned where this was headed. "I'm a soldier, not a programmer."
"In point of fact," Data argued, "You are whatever your programming allows you to be." He was impressed with the profundity of his own statement. "Perhaps that aphorism could be the basis for your introduction to the concepts of third-level metaprogramming. I would be happy to provide you with my own experiences in that area."
"You don't understand, Captain," Ajax insisted. "I was created to serve in combat. My existence is dedicated to a single purpose. I can't give that up for...for..."
He found himself looking at Ijhel, who was staring up at him in a way he'd never quite seen before. Somehow, in his empathetical heuristic systems, he could understand what she wanted to tell him, that she didn't dare say aloud. Please, he interpolated her to be thinking, please do this for me, so we'll never be apart again. It was an incredible sentiment to infer from someone's body language, and Ajax wondered if he should have his ego subroutines examined. Then again, he only knew of one person for the job, and she was about to resign from it. And in some strange way, he found the idea of doing something solely for her benefit...pleasing? Maybe that was worth further examination as well.
"Very well," he sighed. "I suppose that means I'll be assigned to your command now, Doctor."
"And I promise you won't regret it for a second," she grinned. "Now, come along to my quarters. We have a lot of work to do...after we celebrate this momentous occasion..."
She took his hand and led him away, and Tirava could swear she head the Cardassian woman quietly...giggle. She raised an eyebrow at Kreighen. "Did I...miss something with those two?"
"I cannot be certain," Data replied, whether anyone asked him or not, "but my observations suggest that they have recently initiated clandestine sexual relations." He announced this aloud, in the same manner he would speculate as to the father of his cat's next litter.
Janeway cleared her throat, aggressively. "Mister Data, I believe Chief Eudon was asking for some assistance with the plasma flow regulators down in engineering. Maybe you could offer to lend a hand."
"Certainly, Admiral." Data began to make his exit, but paused to address his new friends. "If I encounter you again while off-duty, I would be happy to procure both of you a drink." And then, finally, he was gone.
Everyone took time for a deep sigh. "He's an excellent officer," Janeway commented, "but you have to know how to handle him. Which brings us to you, Mister Kreighen." She glanced to Tirava. "I have to ask you to leave now, Lieutenant."
She wasn't going anywhere, but a nod from Kreighen convinced her to go, if only to humor him. Once she was gone, he shook his head and smiled as he poured himself another three fingers of bourbon. "Admiral, I think the last eight months have proven you do not know how to handle me."
"I'm forced to agree." That admission almost caused him to drop his glass. "While I was being held aboard your shuttle, Ensign Jimenez made an astute point--sweeping you and your friends under the rug only made things worse. I'm not certain how much worse, but you seem to have convinced Captain Lancaster that the entire galaxy was on the brink of disaster."
Kreighen enjoyed the aroma of his drink. "It was."
"I'm still interested to know how you learned that."
He knew she was going to ask that sooner or later. "Let's put it this way. I was stranded in unexplored territory for months. But you know what that's like. And I'll bet that during your travels through uncharted space, you encountered beings that told you things above your security clearance. Beings that might have seen the danger of provoking the Borg, or revealing their existence. Do you get my drift, 'Kathy?'"
Janeway was taken aback by his implication, but she read it loud and clear. "I think I do. So you must realize by now the stakes in this war. And why I wasn't prepared to let you drag me away from the table eight months ago."
"I do." Kreighen set his drink down and walked up to her. "Let's get this out in the open, Admiral. I hate your guts. I strongly disagree with your approach to this war, and I oppose the way you step on anyone who gets in your way. All that's changed in the last eight months is that I see why we're stuck with you, and that I'm not as different from you as I'd like to think."
"And if it were up to me," Janeway said, "I'd probably find a better way to put you to pasture--make sure you didn't come back to haunt me." She gestured to the bottle on the table. "Bourbon?" When he nodded, she poured herself a glass, and knew how to appreciate it. "But it's not up to me."
"Then who? Korok?"
Janeway was not pleased to hear that name. "I have informed Unimatrix Zero that they will receive no support from the Alliance if Korok remains in command. His authority has been assumed by Commander Hardcastle. You may think I'm heartless, Mister Kreighen, but I will not tolerate the abuse of sentient beings, not even to defeat the Borg."
"I've been to a prison camp that suggests otherwise," Kreighen remarked.
"Then I'll have to pay them a visit," she shot back. "But as for you and me, it seems the final arbitrator will have to be Captain Lancaster. I don't apologize for turning the Stormwind into bait for the Borg, but it blew up in my face, and now I have to face the political consequences. He's agreed not to make an issue of it, on the condition that you remain under his command."
"You're kidding..."
Lancaster was bothered by that allegation, but overlooked it. "Starfleet needs men and women like you, Mister Kreighen--if only to keep men and women like the admiral in check. You wanted a chance to object to her handling of the war. I can ensure that you have the proper channels to do that, if you remain aboard as my first officer."
Kreighen wasn't convinced. "I assume there's a catch."
"The 'catch,' Commander, is that you set aside your differences with the admiral, as will she. The 'catch' is that you must learn how to behave as a senior officer, and not simply a pilot with enough pips on his collar to get away with anything. You have the raw talent for command, but your approach is akin to a boy left in the wilderness to fend for himself. You need discipline, Mister Kreighen. I will see that you receive it."
"Okay." Kreighen returned to his glass. "I'm glad you two worked out your conditions. Now what if I have some of my own?"
***
She didn't have her own quarters yet. She'd spent the past few nights billeting with Kreighen, so when Janeway told her to leave, there wasn't any particular place to go. That seemed appropriate to Tirava. A woman without a career, a purpose, an honored status in Andorian society...anything.
So she sat in the brig. As had generally been the case throughout the war, there was nobody there--the Alliance was fighting an enemy that rarely allowed prisoners to be taken. It was an easy choice for the woman who wanted to get away from everyone else.
As she sat in one of the cells, brooding, she considered the golden blood that she'd smeared on her cheek. She'd done her best not to clean it off. It was all she had to remember Saa, a girl everyone else was likely to forget. Frankly, for all Tirava knew, the Xhiryptyr'x had become extinct in the subspace explosion.
Somehow, just thinking about the bloodstain was enough to make her cheek feel warm. When she couldn't dismiss the feeling as psychosomatic, she confused the sensation for being on the verge of crying. When she could see a golden glow below her eye, she knew something else was going on.
"Hello, Tirava."
Saa was floating three feet in front of her. It was unmistakably her, but...different. She looked a good three years older, and her body was illuminated in the same golden glow.
"I...Saa...I thought you were dead..."
"Saa is dead," she suggested. "From a certain perspective. My experiences with you have taught me to transcend my existence. I have been reborn? Is that the right term? Language seems clumsy to me now. But I have won my name, in keeping with the ways of the Xhiryptyr'x. And I choose to honor she who brought me this new life. I am Saa'Ava, daughter of Tirava."
Now the Andorian really was about to cry. "What will you do now?"
"It is what I have already done, Mother. My people were beyond their own understanding, and I now perceive the threat they posed to the galaxy. So when I awoke in this form, I removed them from this plane of existence. They will learn to harness the powers they possess. I will teach them, as my mother has taught me."
"Then why did you come here?"
"To save you." Saa'Ava reached down to wipe away Tirava's tears. "I could not bear that you believed me dead. And I could not exist for all eternity? Will I exist that long? Perhaps. I could not exist knowing your soul was in torment. In a few seconds, the Kreighen will arrive here to offer you a place at his side. He has convinced the Federations to return you to your duties. I am here to beg you, Mother, to embrace that destiny."
A human might have been able to handle this kind of cosmic nonsense. For an Andorian, it was inconceivable that a being of this power would be so concerned with something so trivial. "Saa...why would you want me to rejoin Starfleet or stick with Kreighen? What difference would it make to you?"
Saa'Ava smiled warmly, remembering what it was like to be this small, this confused. "It is what you want, Mother. All I want is for you to see that." She turned, as if seeing something approaching in the seventh dimension. "I cannot remain, lest I imperil your universe as my people did once before."
Tirava reached out to touch her hand, but the warmth of her light proved unbearable to mortal flesh. "I..." What could she say to her? To be careful? To have a good life? What were these sentiments to a goddess? So all she could say was: "I love you...my daughter..."
"As I love you," Saa'Ava proclaimed. "And I will mi s s y o u . . ."
And so Tirava was alone again, but not for long. Just as had been foretold, the main doorway into the brig opened, and Kreighen wandered in.
"I thought I might find you in here," he smiled. But then he saw her face, and was overcome with worry. "Hey...what's wrong?"
"It's...it's..." She couldn't even remember blubbering like this before. She couldn't imagine how humans could stand being this distraught. "It's all right, pinksin."
"No, it's not," He entered the cell she was sitting in, and knelt down in front of her. "Sweetheart, tell me what's bothering you..."
She couldn't keep secrets from him...not like this. But this wasn't the time. So she needed to convince him it was find. And she could only think of one way to do that without sobbing all over him. So she reached over, pushed him to the ground, and kissed him. The way she had the night they first met.
There was no time for anything else. No time to explain what she'd experienced with Saa...or Saa'Ava. No time for him to tell of his experiences with the Q. No time to discuss how he'd convinced Janeway and Lancaster to reinstate Tirava as a member of the Stormwind's crew, with a promotion to boot. No time to wonder what had gone on between Ijhel and Ajax. No time to grieve over Jimenez, or to worry about the war. No time to discuss their contentious relationship, or its future.
All of that didn't matter anymore. For now, everything was perfect.