Till death us do part...

The death of a loved one is always a painful act...

The Blue streaks of Phaser light struck home, hitting the weakened Borg vessels and ripping through the steel frames like a hot knife through butter. Slowly the two cubes turned away, describing a long arc as they descended towards the Earth before breaking up in the upper ionosphere.

“Two others are de-cloaking at bearing 180 mark 30!” reported Harper, her eyes darting between the view screen and the console in front of her. “They”re firing!” Two more shock waves hit the ship, causing it to ring like a bell. Something cracked. Then hissed, then finally the lights went blue and the alarms began to sound.

“HULL BREACH!” Reported Taylor, his hands moving like lightning across the panel in front of him. “Deck three!”

“Evacuate that area immediately!” Rex ordered, waving his arm in the general direction of Harper. He returned his attention to the view screen, intently staring at the image of the last cube.

Nothing happened. The cube neither advanced nor retreated, nor attacked. It just sat there, looking for all intents and purposes like a single die on a black table.

“What are they up to?” Harper asked of no one in particular.

“I don”t know.” Rex shook his head in confusion, still leaning forward in his seat.

“Captain, sensors indicate another cube has just de-cloaked on our starboard bow �"” Taylors' voice trailed off for a moment, then he spoke again in disbelief. “It”s huge! Five times the size of anything we've ever come across!”

“On screen.” Rex stood then, staring at the gargantuan vessel as it faded into view in front of him. It filled the view screen, dwarfing the previous cube by comparison.

“We are being hailed, sir.” Sparks told him, his voice catching nervously.

“Open a channel.” Rex hardly tore his eyes from the screen as he spoke, so intent to spy any flaw in the design of this massive cube.

“RESISTANCE IS FUTILE. ASSIMILATION IS ASSURED. SURRENDER YOUR VESSEL AND BECOME ONE WITH THE BORG.” The multi-voice of the Borg rang out across the bridge, booming from the speakers.

“Assimilate this!” Rex shouted back, stabbing a finger towards the tactical station. “Open fire with everything we have left!”

Shots sped from the tubes, racing across the void to impact with the twisted metal of the Borg ship, the damage only minimal against such a huge vessel, the phasers screeching as they lanced at it, cutting small holes where they impacted, hardly damaging the ship at all.

“RESISTANCE IS �".” Rex signalled to Sparks to shut off the sound, which she did with a single stroke of her hand.

“Launch the bombers; send in everything we've got!” Sitting down, he examined the sensor information in order to see the damage they had caused for himself.

Within moments, thirty of the Lancaster class craft, each carrying a single quantum torpedo, sped towards the cube.

“Alpha wing to Thunderchild; All ships in formation, approaching target at max v.” Reported Commander Welton as he lined his bomber up with the rest of his squadron. “Commencing attack run �" NOW!” He punched the engine controls, sending the small craft hurtling forward at top speed towards the waiting cube.

“By the Great Bird!” exclaimed one of the squadron on the intercom as Welton adjusted his course slightly. “It”s huge!”

“Can it!” Welton ordered as his sensors started to inform him of the situation ahead. “Assume attack formation �" and keep it tight this time!” He snapped. Almost instantly, the rest of the squadron began to guide their ships into place as they flew faster towards the target.

“Commander, sensors indicate an immense magnetic field that”s distorting our systems” ability to read the distance to the target!”

Welton had already guessed that since his own instrument panel was going crazy with collision alerts that were clearly wrong this far from the surface of the cube. “Disable your alerts, and continue with the attack on visual assumption!”

“Understood.”

******

“Twenty seconds to firing point!” reported Ensign Taylor, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain.

“They've got to cause as much damage as they can, or we're sunk!” Harper told no one in particular as she stared at the view screen. Rex glanced at her for a moment, thoughtfully taking in every detail of her stance, her gait, her look. He realised at that moment, life would never be the same without her, nor would he want it to be. Her mannerisms, her outlook. She made it all worthwhile. She was the one he was fighting for, more than anyone else. Just her.

“Ten seconds.” Taylor stated, still staring at his console.

“Any reaction from the Borg?” Rex asked, not taking his eyes off of Harper. She seemed to feel his eyes on her; glanced over then mouthed the word "what?"

He felt sheepish for a moment, realising he had been smiling silently at her. Tearing his eyes away, he stared intently at the view screen again; forcing himself to concentrate on the events at hand.

“Nothing at the moment, sir.” Taylor reported, still checking his readouts. Odd. Surely they can see the bombers. Why didn't they even shoot at them? What were they trying to prove?

Almost as an afterthought, the Borg suddenly unleashed the full fury of the Cube on all of the bombers, sending two spiralling out of control into the surface, pieces flying off and wrecking the hull of the cube in small places here and there. Another fell, exploding into a fireball as they sped on.

“Five seconds.” Taylor reported; his eyes hardly moving from the console as he spoke. His voice echoed across the bridge, cutting through the silence like a knife. “Three seconds.”

“Two....”

“One....”

“Now!”

Small points of light suddenly leapt from the undersides of the bombers, speeding rapidly towards the cube in unison, forming a larger ball of light as they converged on the aiming point before impacting with the surface and exploding violently. Huge chunks of plating spiralled away from the cube, smashing another two of the bombers as they made good their escape.

“Secondary explosions detected!” Reported Welton, his voice shaky and garbled by the magnetic fields. “Good hits! Good hits!” He shouted above the racket of the shock waves that shook his small craft violently.

“Captain, one of the torpedoes has hit a main power conduit. Their main power is off line. I suggest we begin bombardment immediately.” Reported the tactical officer.

Rex smashed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Yes!” he hissed triumphantly. “Got ya!”

Turning to the tactical officer, he nodded; “open fire.”

Once again, lances of phaser light stabbed at the cube, rending it open in places. More and more holes appeared in the hull, smashing pieces off of the hulk. This time, other parts of the cube flew clear, spiralling away and into space.

“We are now causing immense damage to the Borg cube, but still not enough to disable it, Captain.” Taylor pointed out, his fingers stabbing at the console in front of him as he spoke. “Another Borg cube approaching from behind, sir!” he announced. “Coming up fast. It”s badly damaged.”

“They”re hailing us!” Harper reported.

“On screen, give me a tactical plot on globe two.” Rex ordered, shifting in his seat a little. The view screen image automatically flickered to show the face of Borg Beatty, his grey face splattered by blood and cuts that seemed to do him no harm at all. The image was distorted and wavy, and the sound was intermittent, but he guessed it was the best they could do.

“Captain, we have repaired as much as we can of this cube and are ready to assist you.” Beatty told him, matter-of-factly.

“Good to have you back. Fire everything you've got at this thing, will you?”

“My pleasure.” Beatty responded, almost instantly. Blasts of fire erupted as the two Borg vessels began tearing huge chunks off of each other.

“Keep firing.” Rex added to his own crew, knowing he didn't have to. He watched every shot hit home, every explosion tear new pieces off of the massive cube. Little by little, he saw the wreckage fly away, and his demeanour lifted with each shot. It was as if a great weight was being lifted from his shoulders, one ounce at a time. Harper broke his reverie.

“It”s still not enough, sir. The damage is repairing faster than we can cause it.” She shook her head.

“Haven”t we got ANY torpedoes left?” Rex asked, praying for a miracle. Harper checked again, her finger tapping rapidly at the controls. After a moment, she shook her head.

“None,” she said at last, sounding defeated. “So what do we do now?”

“Keep firing, and hope we can do enough damage to prevent them from gaining a toe hold on the repairs.” Rex rubbed his forehead with his hand, praying silently for a miracle. If they could only destroy this thing, then they might just buy enough time to allow reinforcements to arrive.

“They”re firing!” the report came suddenly, just a micro second before the blast hit the ship, sending the crew reeling. Damn it! Rex thought, his mind racing. Now they get their weapons working.

“Whatever we”re gonna do, we better do it soon, they”re overtaking our ability to destroy them.” Harper explained looking worried and haggard. In that instant, Rex shot her a look of "don”t remind me!" and decided that there was just one thing they could do to prevent this getting out of hand. Stabbing at the com link on his seat, he shouted above the din of battle.

“Engineering. Beatty, any way we can divert power to the navigational deflector?”

“Aye, sir. But I can”t give you much. We need everything we've got to keep the shields up against this thing!” Beatty explained.

“If what I've got in mind works, then we won”t need the damn shields and if it don”t, then we won”t need them anyway!” Rex explained. “Divert power, give me everything you can. Take it from life support if you have to, anything. Got it?”

“Aye, sir. Diverting power now. But I've got to tell you, the relays are strung up like a Christmas tree, so go easy Engineering out.”

“Helen,” Rex turned to his XO, his mind racing ahead of him in an instant. “Can you set the navigational deflector to put out an inverse of their power signature?” He asked.

“Way ahead of you, already set.” She answered, nodding.

“That's my girl. Target their power relays, let”s see if we can disrupt their repairs enough to buy us some time.” As he spoke, the ship rocked yet again from another onslaught. “Fire!” He ordered, stabbing his finger at the image of the cube on the view screen.

A deep hum began to vibrate throughout the ship, seeming to emanate from all places at once, rising to a high pitched screech that deafened and isolated everyone at the same time, their voices almost drowned out by the sound. From the outside, very little seemed to be happening, then, as the pitch got higher, the deflector array began to glow brighter and brighter until, at last, the shot fired, a huge beam of light that lanced across the gap towards the cube and stabbed at the heart of the box-shaped ship. Almost instantly, the effect was evident. The usual greenish glow on the Borg ship flickered and began to fade then grew in intensity once more.

“More power!” Rex ordered standing and making a fist as he spoke.

The glow from the dish intensified yet again, accompanied by a higher pitched scream. As soon as the power hit, the lights on the Borg cube failed entirely.

“Their power relays are weakening, almost out.” Harper explained, sounding exultant as she spoke. “We”re getting some feedback, could destabilise the whole thing. The Navigational defector is oscillating badly. It”s causing a loop. Couplings are failing. Trying to compensate.” She added, her hands speeding across the console as she spoke. “Almost got it.” She said after a moment. “There!” she finished, hitting the final control with a final flourish that told of years of experience. No sooner had she hit the button, the console exploded, sending her flying across the bridge to the rear wall. A sickening crack accompanied her impact, and she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap that told how badly hurt she was.

The yell seemed to be guttural, almost animal in nature. Not human. Anguished, pained, enraged. The one thing in his life he had never really understood was what heart ache really felt like. Now he knew. Now he really knew.

It was as if someone had taken his heart and spiked it onto a spear and held it up for the whole world to see it beating in agony and bleeding upon the floor with his tears.

The feeling washed over him, knocking his senses into over drive as he rocked her gently in his arms. Her soft scent wafted into his nostrils, making him feel as if she were still alive.

He wanted to just touch her shoulder and shake her awake, rousing her and guiding her back to her post by his side. Somewhere deep inside, he knew it could never happen again.

The anger welled up inside him, fuelling his tears and sending him almost over the edge of sanity into the abyss of despair.

Almost as soon as he felt himself slipping, he began to get the sensation that this wasn't what she would have wanted. She would have him avenge her, not mourn her. She was a fighter, not a weeper.

In his mind, he could hear her calling him, inside. Urging him to get up and fight these evil monsters and destroy them once and for all. In his heart, he knew he needed to stand, walk to the console and find some way to strike back, tear them apart like never before, destroy every last one of the cruel, evil vicious freaks of nature that had taken her from him.

Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. Placing her lifeless body gently on the floor, he rose to his feet, crossed to the tractor beam control panel, and began to pull anything he could find - pieces of broken ship, chunks of metal, left over torpedo casings, bomber wreckage, anything �" and send it crashing into the Borg cube before them, each impact rending more and more of the vessel to smaller and smaller parts that tore away and sped off into space. It was, to him, as if she were controlling his hands, guiding him to do what he knew she would have done if she were still alive. And he knew, deep in his heart, that this was the only way they could ever have hoped to defeat the Borg on this occasion. After all else had failed, their own wreckage had been the cause of the downfall of the Borg.

As he watched the terrible carnage he was causing, his numbness deepened. His senses failed to register the death and destruction he was bringing down upon them. It was as if someone were sending his fingers to do the work and he was watching from afar. He would have liked to think it was Helen, but deep inside, he knew it wasn't possible, was it? She was dead, after all. She could do nothing to guide him, or even run him. She was dead.

His love was ripped out of him and left on the deck of the bridge by these �" things. Left in a crumpled heap of blood and smashed bones.

Despair suddenly swept over him, and he found he could no longer stand. Almost collapsing to the ground, he broke into a mass of sobs and jerks of tears that tore a new, even angrier voice from him.

This time, not a rage that she was dead, but a rage of shame that he had felt it so hard. The one thing he wished he hadn't done was fallen in love at that moment, because without love, he could be cold and heartless enough to just ignore the body of the woman he loved as she was carried from the bridge. But he knew it was hopeless to not love. Love was human. And that”s what they were fighting for, wasn't it? The right to feel, the right to be human?

All at once, his strength returned and he clambered to his feet once more. Staring at the console before him, he carefully weighed up his options before coming up with a plan of action. The cube was a shambles, pieces of wreckage sticking out at all angles as he stared at the readouts and glared at the monstrous machine that still hung menacingly before his stricken ship.

The Borg cube was badly battered, smashed and damaged, almost unrecognisable as a Borg construct any more, instead it looked like something an insane mind had conjured up to defy explanation. It hung there, motionless. Dark foreboding in the ionosphere of Earth as if daring him to do his worst. It seemed to him almost mocking in nature, goading him to try again.

But there was nothing left in him. His rage was gone. All that was left was sorrow, heartache and emptiness. An emptiness that felt cold and lifeless like the Borg themselves.

He heard a voice in the back of his mind issuing orders, and tried to ignore it. Slowly, he began to recognise that voice. It was his own. Sounds drove into the clouds of his mind, forcing themselves into the softened underbelly he had cocooned himself with and dragging him back to reality.

Alarm klaxons and sirens sounded as he watched the crew making ready to abandon ship. All hands rushed to get to the lifeboats, racing to survive the onslaught they knew was going to follow their failure to save the Earth.

Rex caught himself a few minutes later, carrying Helen to the Captains” Yacht, giving her body to Big Mac, and settling himself into his seat before setting the controls to automatic emergency egress. Punching the final control, he sat back and waited for the usual rush of acceleration that would press him in his seat as they raced away from what was left of the Thunderchild. He could only hope that the collision course he had set would do the damage he expected.

Funny, the yacht seemed extremely smooth this time. Not so quick out of the bay as it had been in the past. He could remember being pressed further back in previous flights. It was almost as smooth as glass. Nowhere near what he thought it should be. As if it recognised his pain and was being as gentle as possible to make life easier for him.

He could hear Big Mac in his head, saying something about shock, and �" did he just use a hypo spray? Rex dismissed it. It didn't matter. All that mattered to him now was getting Helen to Earth. She needed to be there, not in space.

She had given her life to protect this planet, so he would be damned if he was going to let her body float away into space. No way at all. Taking one last look out of the window, he watched as the massive starship tore into the remains of the Borg ship, finally ripping it to pieces. The other cubes opened fire then, tearing into the hull like scissors through paper. Closing in for the kill, they hacked away at the ship he had once been so proud to command.

Was that a flash of light? Coming from the Thunderchild? No, couldn't have been, he knew the ship was doomed, that”s why he had set the auto self destruct just before he had finally abandoned her.

Any second now.

Another flash.

Odd.

Wasn't the explosion supposed to be one final, powerful rending of the hull? At least, that was what he had been told. It was what he had expected. But this seemed to be going on longer than he thought it should. Almost like she was fighting back at the last moment, defiant to the end.

He watched for the explosion, but it never came. As they entered the atmosphere, he could see the air rushing past the screen, causing him to lose sight of the starship for a moment before the final moment came, and the ship was at last ripped apart by the blast.

He strained to see the Borg cubes, caught by the explosion, torn to pieces. He hoped that was the last of them. Because, if it wasn't everything they had done was in vain. It was all for nothing if they hadn't stopped this menace once and for all. It had to end here.

It had to finish, now and forever. It had to end here.

Guiding the yacht to the ground, he saw the crew clambering out of their life boats, a few of the Borg survivors closed in on them. Phasers screeched into the bodies of a few, killing them instantly. Others just lumbered on, never ceasing to advance until, one by one, the phasers stopped firing.

Rex used the yacht as a weapon, landing on a couple of the Borg drones with a gratifying crunch. Throwing his harness off, he grabbed the nearest phaser he could find and began to race out of the hatch at the rear of the craft. Racing towards the Borg, he fired several bursts, felling a couple and dropping a sharp piece of metal on the third before it could react.

His hatred welling up inside him again, he charged at the drones, hoping they would end his life so he could be with Helen. But as he tore each of the drones down, he found they seemed to be retreating from the fight, running. As if he were some kind of god they dared not fight.

Giving chase, he tried to destroy the last of them, but found himself standing alone in the plain, the cries of the wounded and dying meeting his ears. He stared at the emptiness of the field, wondering where they had gone. Why he was alone when so short a time ago, he had been with the love of his life. Why he had survived, when she had not. His thoughts turned inside himself, and he looked for a reason but could not find one. It made no sense. Nothing about his life did. The only thing that had made sense for him was gone. Taken before he could reciprocate the love he knew she felt for him.

What more could he do? What else could he have done? Was there anything he could have done differently? And if he had, would she have survived? Or was this just a dream he was fabricating to make up for his own shortcomings? Why had he done what he had done? Would he have done it differently if he had known what would happen?

All at once, the answers came to his mind, and he knew within himself that nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to die for him. And to give her life to help save the Earth. After all, that was why she had joined Starfleet in the first place, she had told him once, and he at that time had thought she was joking. Deep inside, he knew she wasn't. He knew she wanted it this way. Shaking himself from his reverie, he turned back to stare at the yacht.

Two figures were pouring over the bodies of the fallen, shadows against the sunlight. From where he stood, he could barely make out the shapes. The gait of the figures was unmistakable, almost human, but with that characteristic stiffness of the Borg.

Great bird of the galaxy!

The Borg!

They had accessed the yacht while he was chasing down the others, and were even now attaching things to the bodies of his crew, assimilating them where they lay.

Was nothing sacred? Anger welled up once more. Not for the death of Helen, but this time for the body of Helen. They had desecrated her, removed all essence of humanity from her, making her less than human, almost a nothing in his eyes. And that was one thing he could not allow. Racing back to the yacht, he yelled a guttural, violent yell, a scream that told of the disgust he felt for these �" these monsters. Charging headlong, he finally reached the drones in time for them to vanish before his eyes.

Spent, exhausted, he dropped to his knees, gasping for air. Sobs rocked his body yet again, sending tears flying from the end of his nose to the grass below. He cared little, just allowed his tears to overtake him. The finality of the loss had once and for all ripped his heart out, and left him helpless.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, gentle and caring. He shrugged it off.

A voice.

Human, but at the same time emotionless, spoke to him.

He ignored it.

“Captain?” the voice spoke again, this time more insistent. “George!”

That final mention of his name jolted him inside and out. Turning his head, he found himself looking straight into the eyes of Helen. She stood beside him, her beauty scarred by the mechanical attachments the Borg had used to revive her.

“I am alive.” She said simply.

George stared in wonder at her, his tears still blurring his vision. She sounded the same, seemed the same, but she was Borg.

They had done something to her, made her different. She was part machine, but her skin was still as lovely as the day they had first met. Why had they made this mockery of humanity? Why had they done this to her? Why couldn't they just leave well enough alone!

To make her one of them was, to him, the worst thing they could have done. They took a wonderful human being and turned her into a savage, inhuman monster to do their bidding. He felt his disgust well up inside his chest, and wanted so badly to smash this device before it could mock him some more. But �" as he stood, ready to bring the final blow down upon her, he stopped. Something caught his eye. Something inside her expression he had never seen on a single Borg face in all of this. Fear. She was frightened!

Rex blinked for a moment, unsure of what he was seeing. Was it his imagination? Was he seeing what he wanted to see? Or was this real?

“George” The Helen-thing shouted, raising her arm in self defence. “It's me!”

Rex blinked again, still uncertain. What the hell was going on? Was he going mad? Suddenly, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head, and everything went black.

Chapter nine

“Helen?” Rex stared into her eyes, his mind reeling as he watched her face go from one of beauty to one of pure agony and disbelief. He felt despair as he realised he had no way to save her, that her body was changing, becoming more and more borg-like as he stood, holding her in his arms, unable to prevent her from becoming the thing he hated most. Staring at her, he began to notice the mechanical protuberances that so typically epitomised the Borg starting to grow from her face, the now-familiar helmet like skull cap that almost all of the Borg wore, now almost a part of her head as she fell from his arms, her hair covered in blood and the pained expression on her face making him feel so lost and alone in his heart. All at once, he began to scramble to keep a hold of her, to keep her near him, and he heard a voice calling to her, a desperate, hollow call that made him feel lonely and empty inside, something that made him want to be with her, to pull her into his arms, to keep her alive before she fell finally to the ground at his feet.

He saw, all at once, the world change before him, saw the THUNDERCHID as she exploded, felt the shock wave fly through him, felt pain in his heart that he had lost yet more of the few things that mattered in his life. He was alone, floating in space, Helen dead at his feet, helpless before the smashed wreckage of a life that was now denied him by a cruel twist of fate. Curling into a ball, he began to cry. Tears rolled down his cheeks uncontrollably, leaving him in no doubt that he was destroyed. Everything he held dear was lost to him. Everything he wanted to do was a veil of life that he could no longer control. He was all at the same time, alone, and yet, simply put, not alone.

A warmth surrounded him, making him feel comforted. He felt a rocking sensation as his senses re-awoke. He felt arms holding him, comforting him, a voice he could not understand was talking to him, soothing his mind with words that reminded him of his mother now long gone.

His body shook with the force of the tears as he lay there, unable or unwilling to move. His mind screamed at him to get up, but he could not. He was beyond that, now. Standing was something he felt he just did not have the strength to do. Weakness overtook him, and he just lay there, half-aware of his surroundings as his mind reeled. Everything was lost. His ship, his career, the woman he loved, everything. He had failed them all. Another wave of despair washed over him, causing yet more tears to force themselves from his eyes.

Deep inside, a small voice spoke. It was a voice of strength, a voice of determination, and absolute authority. It said just one thing:

'SNAP OUT OF IT, CAPTAIN!'

Instantly, he awoke. Faces. Concerned faces staring at him.

“How are you feeling captain?” Big mac, with his usual demeanour of concern for his patient, was shining a torch into his eyes. The light hurt, and he shied away from it, shielding himself from the intensity. Mac simply pulled his arms down, and tried again, holding his eyelids open with the other hand as he performed his examination.

“W-what happened?” Rex heard his gravelly voice, surprised at how he sounded.

“I hit you.” Big mac explained. “Sorry 'bout that.” The doctor placed his examination tools back in his black case, then indicated a Borg to Rex's right. “But you were about to kill Commander Harper, for the second time today!”

Rex stared at the woman beside him, his mind reeling. She smiled sweetly at him, her expression coy and vulnerable. “Hi.” she said, her voice almost a whisper as she watched his face for signs of recognition.

“Helen?” he heard himself ask, unsure what to say.

“Yes, it's me. The free-borg brought me back. That's what they were doing when you interrupted them. Thankfully, they had done enough to bring me back from the dead.”

“So, you're not - ?”

“One of them?” Helen smiled broader, her face, although marred by the borg attachments, was still nonetheless very beautiful and he could see much of the woman he had known all that time still in the expressions of her eyes. “God, no. That's the last thing they wanted to do. Ensign Beatty asked his brother if there was anything they could do to help, and this is what they came up with. It was all they could do to make me as close to human as they could. But I am not even connected to the collective, I am totally independent. Half Borg, half human, but at least I am alive.”

“At least that's one thing.” Rex agreed, trying to stand. Fatigue swept over him, and he collapsed back to the floor.

“Take it easy, You've had quite a bump there.” Big mac said, pushing him gently back down.

“George, there's an admiral here to see you.” Helen-Borg explained, her voice neutral and yet gentle at the same time.

Rex simply nodded, immediately regretting the decision to do as his head span feversihly.

“Captain. I'm admiral Hanson, Starfleet.” the tall man stood, arms behind his back, looking down at Rex with a stern expression.

“Admiral.” Rex acknowledged, his eyes hurting as he struggled to recover from the spinning sensation.

“I have come to thank you and your crew for your timely intervention. I don't know what we would have done if you had not turned up.” Hanson paused, then raised one finger and smiled a little. “ I have to say, the thing with the tractor beams was �" unique.”

“I was desperate. It was all I could think of at the time.” Rex admitted, smiling to himself.

“Well, that coupled with the ingenious idea of detonating the warp core that close to the ship was truly inspired.” Hanson added.

“I did what I thought I had to. There was no other way to stop them. I just regret that we lost the ship in the process.” Rex explained, finally regaining his composure.

“Your ship survived, Captain.”

“What? How? I set the ship to self destruct!”

“We can't be entirely sure, but there must have been someone left on board, because the warp core was ejected just moments before the Borg began to open a transwrap conduit. Then, we watched as your ship manoeuvred to the entrance to the conduit and blocked the Borg's escape. There was an immense explosion, and your ship was sent hurtling through the conduit before we could try and rescue whomever it was.” Rex stared intently at Hanson, unable to take all this in. After a brief pause, he looked to Helen-Borg.

“I want a head-count.” he said simply. “Find out who that was. And I also want to know how they got past the security systems to deactivate the self destruct.”

Helen-Borg stared blankly at him for a moment. “We have already done a head-count, sir. All crew are present or accounted for. There were five hundred casualties in total, and everyone of them has been either found as dead or seen to die on board, there's nobody who could have done that. And besides, the security protocols are just too stringent. To get around them would take a very powerful computer or - “ her voice trailed off for a moment.

“Or what?” Rex asked, his brow furrowing.

“Well, I was about to say that maybe one of the free borg might have been able to do it, seeing they have an affinity for machinery.”

Rex thought for a moment, rubbing his chin. “Well, whoever it was, they're in trouble, and we've got to rescue them.” He stood up. Turning to Hanson, he asked, “Admiral, does your starfleet have any available ships in this sector?”

“I have two ships on their way right now, I diverted them as soon as the Borg arrived. But I need them here just in case there are some more of those hidden cubes.” Hanson explained. “But, there IS something I can do. I have an old ship, a constitution class, in mothballs for just such an occasion. I can have that ready for you in a matter of hours, if that will help.”

“That would be a great help, thank you Admiral. I appreciate any help you can give us.” Rex offered his hand to Hanson.

“Nonsense, my boy, you deserve all the help we can give you, especially now. After all, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be here.” Hanson shook his hand vigorously. “And, good luck. I hope you find your crewman alive and well.” the Admiral turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to Rex. “I'll have all the information we have sent to the ship. That way, you'll be able to get under way as soon as possible.”

“Thank you, sir. May I ask the name of the ship you're giving us?” Rex responded.

“Thunderchild.” Hanson told him. “U.S.S Thunderchild.” The admiral smiled briefly, then sauntered off in the direction of starfleet headquarters.

Author's Note

please ignore all references to trek, i am working to remove them.