Star Trek: Death of the Federation

[Cynical Cat]

"Belay firing that torpedo," said Kadon as he watched the Cube die. "Bring us alongside the Argonaut. Keep the Gilgamesh within our shield envelope. Force Leader Menmoth."

"Yes Captain," replied the Marine.

"Have the next wave of your Marines stand by to board the Argonaut. Communications, see if you can raise the Argonaut and get a status report. Executive, full scan of that ship. Relay the data to the Force Leader."

"This one obeys," said Arikel. "The Immortal is already moving to support the Gilgamesh."

"Communications, hail the Immortal and get direct link to Menmoth. It would be a pity if our Marines and their Marines started shooting each other."

[Agent Fisher]

The Katara slowed her wallowing maneuvers, her weapons falling silent. The Gul leaned back, smiling. "Good work, all." He addressed to his crew then looked to his communications officer. "Send a message to the task group, offering any support we can give, supplies, torpedoes, assistance in repairs." He said.

The Katara may not have done alot to slay the beast, but they could stilll be useful.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien

The ebb and flow of the battle had turned against the Cube. It was a realization that spread through all the assembled commanding officers aboard the S'harien. Without its massive shields to hide behind, the Cube was forced to rely on the inherent toughness of its armor and sheer mass to try and absorb the storm of fire which engulfed it. Had the fleet not possessed weapons of unusual destructive force, it would have been a possibility for the Cube to emerge victorious. The presence of comet fall skewed the odds back in their favor, the powerful laser weapons of the D'Deridex pushed the odds even further into their favor. When the Immortal herself displayed her hidden weapon, the end result was a foregone conclusion.

Within the armored command center of the Warbird, Riov Galan Cretak watched as his target was unmercifully pounded into submission until finally the combination of fire proved too much for even the Borg to deny. The Cube seemed to buckle inwards, its armored hull shivering beneath internal explosions. The Cube seemed to expand for a moment as if seeking to contain the devastation occurring within the heart of the ship before it simply gave up. The explosion was impossible to miss and while he had seen Cubes fall before, he not felt so much pride in the fall of one such vessel since he had abandoned the hope that the Romulan Star Empire could have been saved. The bridge was consumed by silence as the Cube broke apart, massive pieces joined by a veritable armada of smaller components as they tumbled in the void.

"Scan the debris carefully, you know what we need." Riov Galan Cretak spoke.

"On it Riov, the Barbarossa is already in the middle of salvaging. They did not waste any time Riov." His sensor officer replied.

"They are Orions. Did you expect anything less? Unfortunately for them, we know what we are looking for. I am not interested in souvenirs or trophies. Get us what we need and leave the rest." He replied.

The sensors aboard the S'harien had been amongst the greatest fitted on a Romulan warship. They lacked the range, power and resolution of a dedicated science ship but for the task at hand they proved more than adequate. The sensors performed deep scans on the debris, seeking specific technology from the Cube. If the technology in question could be found, it would be transported to a secure cargo bay where it would be contained, scanned, identified and its use could be more adequately ascertained. Even as the Warbird focused its attention on salvage operations, Riov Galan Cretak focused on the reports of his men and women aboard the two Federation ships. He still had men and women in harm's way and he would not allow himself to rest until they were no longer in immediate danger.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Heritage

The situation in the heritage had not improved even through the application of the enormous firepower and tactical prowess of the Romulan and Reman forces. The retreat towards the shuttle bay was professional and practiced, nonetheless it possessed a tangible urgency. The rear guard utilized every trick on their possession to dissuade the borg advanced, utilizing cover optimially and in more that one occasion leaving explosives designed to explode when their lasers were tripped or their sensor suites detected the elements typically associated with Borg armor. The tactical drones were proving to be a nuisance, their tendency to seek cover and employ covering fire made them more difficult to kill than would be expected.

The hallways and corridors of the Heritage displayed their scars as disruptors blasts and explosive rounds missed their intended targets. In two separate occasions, EPS relays were pierced setting of explosions and cascading power failures that momentarily plunged entire corridors in darkness while the still active computer systems rerouted power to afflicted systems. The Heritage became a madhouse of activity, the sounds of fire punctuated by the occasional screams and grunts of pain coming from the wounded and dying mixed with the sound of Borg bodies as they fell to the floor only to be trampled by their peers as they advanced.
The shuttle which was attached to the Heritage tracked the situation as best as its sensors allowed. Frustration danced in the faces of its commanders as the situation played out for them. The shuttle had tried to actively assist the Romulan forces, but the computer systems had become increasingly more resilient to foreign intrusions. The Borg did not only adapt to the energy weapons of their enemies. They were also quick studies in terms of security and having gained control over the vessel, they had begun to take a more active role in mitigating direct attempts to manipulate the immediate battlefield.

"How long before the munitions are ready?!" The romulan called out.

"Almost there! One minute!" was the immediate response.

The Romulan shuttle commander frowned, relegated to utilizing his shuttles transport system to pluck the wounded and dying from the Romulan lines as they fell behind and moving them elsewhere. The shuttle was not designed to hold a large amount of personnel, this was doubly so given its current loadout. However, it could function as a transfer point. As soon as the wounded arrived on the shuttle they were transported to the S'harien itself. The shuttle commander had concentrated so fully on the task of saving lives, that he was alerted to the arrival of its twin only by the proximity alarms.

"Shuttle 1, how can we assist?" The familiar voice intruded over an encrypted channel.

"Our forces are retreating towards the shuttle bay. Keep an eye on the wounded and tag their movements for the S'harien. Beam out the wounded when necessary. What are you doing here?"

"The situation on the Argonaut is stable. We can do more here."

"I don't doubt it. It's a nightmare in there."

By the time the Romulan forces that had retreated from the engineering section of the Heritage reached the edge of the shuttle bay, the Borg had ceased their attempt to continue to breach its defenses. The handful of drones that had remained were unceremoniously cut down from behind as the Romulan forces and the assorted Heritage survivors arrived within line of sight of the inner bay doors. By this time, six of the original ten Romulan troopers tasked with securing the shuttle bay had moved onwards climbing aboard the twin Arrow class runabouts that dominated the relatively small shuttle bay. The runabouts had not been secured against take over, at least not from within the Heritage itself and were in the process of being powered up.

"The Borg are up to something." The arrain found himself saying as his eyes narrowed. A new series of commands tracked through the data lines that linked the Heritage. The sole reason why he saw it occurring was his incessant attempts to try and gain access over the very systems for the duration of the battle. His left hand moved, a series of keys pressed as he opened a channel to the romulan forces.

"Don't get comfortable, the Borg are trying something...." The sentence ended abruptly, his eyes widening as he realized what was about to transpire. "Doors are opening! Brace yourselves!" He managed to call out as the doors groaned, hissed and opened.

When the doors which separated Space from the door began to open, the energy field which under normal circumstances would manifest itself to life remained silent. The gathered forces had been unprepared for such an eventuality. The Borg had not shown a penchant for attempted spacing in the past but it seemed that in their desperation the Borg had decided to be creative. Thankfully, the Romulan forces were not completely alone. The two shuttles assigned to the Heritage did what they could to transport troops out of harm's way, working in conjunction with the S'harien many men and women were plucked from the void even before they made it out into space. Most were not so fortunate and in these moments, the inherent racism of the Romulan forces forced heavier than expected casualties on the handful of Heritage survivors. They were not plucked from danger first. In most occasions, they could not be as easily tracked as the Romulan forces. Their suits did not incorporate micro-beacons, and ultimately if forced to choose a Romulan arrain always picked someone they knew over someone they did not.

A human ensign a female found herself in the path of a type 9 shuttle as she tumbled uncontrollably towards the exit of the shuttle bay. It did not take a great deal of intelligence to realize who would win that fight. The human female was split in two, her upper half tumbling away from her lower half as she exited the Heritage. A Vulcan male was slammed by two separate cargo containers. The Vulcan survived the impacts but his suit was compromised, he tumbled in space and began to suffocate as Romulans and Remans around him were plucked to relative safety. A joined trill male was forcefully joined with a borg, their bodies meeting before a disruptor shot cut the reunion short. A Reman bounced over half a dozen people, weapons and cargo containers before his body found itself accelerating against one of the Runabouts as Romulan forces sought to bring it under control. The Reman managed to adjust his trajectory almost by the power of his own mind, before the rcs thrusters of the runabout fired and changed its own direction wildly. The Reman closed its eyes as his head made contact with the tritanium hull.

There would have been other casualties and certainly many more wounded had the Vigilance not intervened on their behalf. Over a dozen men and women were plucked from harm's way by their actions. Upon their arrival on the Federation warship those healthy enough to do so stood and sought to assist their peers, several of which were unable to move due to broken bones, lacerations and disruptor burns.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, Romulan Shuttle

"Ready!"

"Do it."

Within the USS Heritage over half a dozen objects manifested themselves. Without the protection of their shields, the Romulan forces were free to exploit the inherent weakness of the Federation warship. All of the devices manifested within main engineering although of the six devices four were simply acid devices designed to be used predominantly against concentrations of drones. As these exploded and spread out their payload, there were precious few drones to affect. They did however generate an area of near impassible terrain protecting the final two devices from potential interference by Borg forces. These final two devices were micro-torpedoes located in critical junction points above and below the Heritages warp core. Their placement had been chosen with care and the desired result of their usage was nothing less than the destruction of the vessel.

As the payload was delivered the shuttle detached itself from the Heritage and sped away joined by its twin. They did a pass over the aft of the Federation ship, scanning for any and all remaining survivors of the Heritage before they moved away. The warheads had been set to detonate a minute after their delivery if they did not receive a signal to explode sooner. Thirty eight seconds after the shuttles had moved away from the Argonaut the signal was about to be sent out when a bright light blossomed on the side of the Argonaut.

"Nevelth!"

"Blow them!"

"Done!"

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Heritage
Torpedo Room

The borg drone arrived on the torpedo room and began to approach the intruder. The organic laid motionless against a wall, its large weapon leaning against its body. The organic seemed deceased but the drones internal sensors indicated that the organic still drew breath. The drone took a step forward and then another, its arm reaching for the organic before it came to a stop. Its head turned, head tilting slightly as it caught sight of something unusual attached to a quantum torpedo. It pulled back away from the organic and sought to discern the purpose of the device in question.

It had not made it more than three steps towards the torpedo when the organic stirred and then spoke. The drone turned and looked in the direction of the organic.

"Too late. I don't get to die alone after all." The Reman said with a smile as green blood drooled from the corners of his mouth. As he did so, he glanced at its left wrist a device there indicating a time.

4:58

The drone blinked and turned to look at the device once more. The torpedo detonated and was almost immediately joined by its sisters. The explosions were then joined mere heartbeats later by the micro-torpedoes in engineering.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Argonaut

The assembled Romulan forces watched the carnage that laid spread before them in silence. The slaughter that had transpired was difficult to fathom, this was doubly so due to the sort of wounds that the Borg forces arrayed at their feet possessed. It was not the tell tale marks of explosive rounds, it was not the clean death that a phaser was capable of providing. The Romulan forces watched stunned the man that had moments before been shot with a Reman weapon stirred, breathed and slowly began to rise. Over a dozen eyes widened and at least one Romulan took a reflexive step back before catching himself.

Arrain Chobaral was the first to act. As the human stood slowly and with visible difficulty and obvious pain he took a step forward and then another. His left hand moved, reaching for a data pad which he opened a moment later and attempted to scan the human in order to gauge his injury.

How did he survive that?

The data pad offered more questions than answers. The eyes of the Arrain focusing on the commander and coming to a stop five or so feet away from the human. It was as if the commander was too dangerous to approach. His left hand moved, the data pad placed aside before it continued upwards and released the seals that held his helmet over his head. A moment later, a pair of Romulan eyes watched the commander intently as if doing so would somehow reveal the man's secrets.

"What are you?" He knew what his data pad had told him but it was an impossibility.

Kalpov spoke and his words were clear and strong, when the commander stepped forward the entire front row of the gathered Romulan forces shifted although no weapons were brought to bear against the human commander. Arrain Chobaral glanced over his shoulder and shook his head before he spoke.

"This area is now secured. My squad will remain behind, the rest join up with the others and sweep the Argonaut deck by deck, room by room. If there are Borg left in this ship I want them found and destroyed."

The gathered Romulan forces hesitated for a moment before nodding, men and women forcing themselves away a moment before Kalpov made his request. As he was finishing his words, the main view screen of the Argonaut heralded the destruction of the Cube. For that moment, all movement ceased and it seemed that everyone seemed to hold their breath. The moment faded six and a half seconds later, the Romulan forces hesitating visibly before they pressed onward to carry out their objectives.

"I will see what I can do." Arrain Chobaral responded a moment before he reached for his communication device.

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien

"You can't be serious!" Hanaj said.

"The situation in the Argonaut is under control. The Cube has been destroyed and the Heritage has been dealt with. What more remains to be done that you cannot handle Hanaj?" Riov Galan Cretak responded.

"You will not meet with this creature!"

"I am going and that is that. The S'harien is yours. Transporter room, take me directly to the bridge of the Argonaut."

Hanaj frowned as his commanding officer disappeared from the bridge of the S'harien.

Upon his arrival on the bridge of the Argonaut he took a moment to take in the scene before he glanced at Kalpov and then Arrian Chobaral. "Thank you for your bravery Arrain. I will talk with this man alone."

Arrain Chobaral hesitated for only a moment before he saluted and walked away. "My squad and I will wait outside."

Riov Galan Cretak waited until Arrain Chobaral was out of ear shot before his attention focused on Kalpov. "Well then, now that we are alone. I believe an explanation is in order." He said softly. He had placed his men and women in harm's way for this man and his people. They had shed blood together. No human could do what Kalpov had done.

[LadyTevar]

Spector

"Captain, Immortal and Gilgemesh showing unusual power signatures," Serin announced, just before the two ships fired point-blank upon the Cube.

Kirk slammed open her comm, fearing what was coming. "ALL WINGS, CODE ONE! CODE ONE!!! Shelter now!"

Fighter Wings Phantom, Wraith, and Ghost

CODE ONE, CODE ONE!!
Not a one of the Peregrines replied to the call, but all responded instantly. Like startled pigeons, they all took flight away from the Cube hitting full speed to get away from the danger. Wingmen stayed together and order was kept silently as the fighters followed the rest of the orders under Code One protocol; find a cap ship and shelter in the lee of its shields.

Spector
Kirk was on the edge of her seat, hoping, praying the fighters would have the time, one second. two. three.

The Cube blew. The viewscreen dimmed instantly against the brightness, and even in the sheltered depths of the Battle Bridge the shockwave of the explosion was felt as the Spector rode it out. Alarms squealed as the plasma roiled over the shields, but Kirk ignored them, allowing the crew to do their jobs. As some started celebrating, Kirk was still fearful. "All Wings... report."

One by one, the remaining fighters checked in, Kirk silently counting off the pilots in her head. Only once the full count was reached did her face finally break into a grin. No casualties. "Back to roost, kids. I'm proud of you."

Still, there were other problems to think about. "Serin, do we still have a trace on those who ejected?" Two pilots had ejected when their fighters were hit. One had been floating and waiting for rescue in the area where a Tri-cobalt torpedo went off. The other would have been unprotected when the Cube exploded.

"Work bees have the coordinates, Captain," Serin answered. "They can begin recovery immediately."

Recovery... a better word than rescue at times. Rescue has the implication there's life to save. Recovery... it covered everything; people, bodies, salvage. "Send them out, along with the rest for whatever else we can recover."

The Heritage suddenly blew, drawing eyes to the viewscreen. "Damn...," Kirk said sadly. "I was hoping we could clean her." Slowly she stood and saluted the expanding debris cloud that had once been a proud Federation vessel, followed solemnly by her crew. The salute was held for a slow count of five, then released as Kirk got back down to business. "Contact our allies, see what help we need. Ask the doc if we have room to help with casualties."

The fight was over. The cleanup was going to take days.

[Charon]

The Barbarossa
Hizir narrowed his eyes some as The Heritage exploded. Glancing over to one of his men on the sensors they replied quickly. "Internal explosions. Started at the engine room and the torpedo bay."

Sitting down again Hizir sighed. "Somebody scuttled it. Must have been worse than we thought. Alright. Inform Adrek of the situation."

Adrek already knew, he'd been staring at his new prize as it had suddenly exploded. The look on his face now was one reserved for a person who had just seen their favorite nephew (who was also Adrek's richest nephew, completely coincidentally of course) gunned down before their eyes. His bottom lip quivered slightly at the idea of so much valuable loot going to waste and the Ferengi hung his head. When he was informed by the bridge the only response they got from his was a sniffle as his brothers attempted to console him.

Delvok and Danava had meanwhile made their way up to the bridge. The Orion woman was grinning as though she'd just made her first kill all over again and slinked up to Hizir who was still sitting, wrapping her arms luxuriously around his shoulders. "Mmm, good for you too?"

Hizir looked over and offered her a small smile just before she grabbed him by the back of his head and kissed him rather forcefully.

Delvok meanwhile had made his way over to Ereiss and was already busily scanning her over, much to the Romulan's consternation. Her eyebrows narrowed in annoyance, though she didn't say anything. The scanner quietly whirled and beeped as the rest of the crew went about their business of getting salvage ready. When the scanner finally finished Delvok scanned it carefully for several moments before he nodded in satisfaction. "Everything checks out."

"These aren't necessary." Was Ereiss's response, to which Delvok paused for a moment.

"I disagree. You are still not fully recovered, and if you continue to push yourself as hard as you are you will never recover." The Vulcan and the Romulan stared at each other for several seconds, neither saying a word, before Ereiss finally turned away. "All must make sacrifices in times of war."

Delvok paused, a slight frown playing on his lips for just a moment before he moved away from the Romulan navigator and made his circuit around the room to make certain no one had suffered any injuries.

Meanwhile The Barbarossa herself continued to scan the debris, looking for salvageable equipment and goods among the wreckage of the Borg fleet and The Heritage

[rhoenix]

Nivoch System
USS Gilgamesh
Bridge

As the tactical holographic display showed the Heritage, recently highlighted with red to indicate it as an enemy contact before being reduced to a derelict, Captain Solheim's shoulders relaxed slightly. "Swift, send a message to all surviving ships - say that we will offer what assistance we can."

Nodding absently as she rapidly began to send the messages, Swift managed to murmur "Aye, sir."

This caused Commander Inzeti to smirk, as she began to walk toward the turbolift, gently touching Captain Solheim's hand as she passed. "I'm going to go check Engineering, Captain - they might need some help."

Smiling softly, Captain Solheim nodded to her once as she passed. "Very good, Commander. Carry on."

After the doors to the turbolift closed behind her, Captain Solheim exhaled slowly as he activated the internal commlink. "This is the bridge. I need a complete damage report and casualty report as soon as possible."

-=-=-=-=-=-

Nivoch System
USS Gilgamesh
Engineering Deck

As Commander Inzeti walked out of the turbolift en route to Engineering, she slowed to a stop, her eyebrows narrowing as she did. At the other end of the hallway stood the Chief Medical Officer, Lieutenant Melisande, staring at her with a smirk, with arms crossed. She too stood still at the other end of the hallway, with a tense silence hanging between them.

"Doctor," Commander Inzeti said tersely with a nod. It was partly due to Commander Inzeti's reluctance to see the medical bay regularly, and partly due to the Doctor's somewhat smug and underhanded attitude that the two women had a tense relationship.

"Commander," replied Lieutenant Melisande. The two women stuck a surprising contrast - Commander Inzeti was tall, even by Romulan standards, standing with tanned skin, and long black hair woven into an intricate braided bun at the back of her head. She stood with proper military precision, with back straight, and her face impassive.

The Doctor stood seemingly relaxed, nearly appearing indolent as she leaned against the side of the hallway. Though she was a few centimeters shorter than the Commander and therefore somewhat tall for a human, her reddish-brown hair flowed freely from her head, unadorned by such things as hair ties. The smirk on her face was a knowing one, as she stood with her arms crossed. Somewhat ominously, her right hand was obscured by her arm. "You know Commander, it's been a while since you graced my office for a checkup."

"Indeed," acknowledged Commander Inzeti somewhat coldly. "Forgive me Doctor, but I have duties to attend to."

"Oh, I'm sure you do - things have been very exciting lately," replied the Doctor, her smirk widening into a somewhat unsettling smile. "I hear you brushed off those medics after the firefight on the bridge."

At this, Commander Inzeti's eyes narrowed slightly. "I only sustained light injuries. It was not enough to impair my performance or my duties."

"Oh, I'm sure," Lieutenant Melisande replied as she began walking - ambling, really - toward the Commander, still with the same smile on her face. "That's why you're walking around with second and third-degree plasma burns and blunt trauma to your spinal column. But you have time now, don't you?"

Commander Inzeti's eyes narrowed a bit more. She and the Doctor had several altercations in the past, and as much as she hated to admit it, the Doctor was ahead on points. Then again, she didn't fight fair. At all. "I assure you, I am still fit for duty. I do not have the time now, Doctor. I'm afraid it will have to wait until I am certain our ship and its crew are out of danger."

"What a wonderful coincidence! That's my job too," replied the Doctor, her smile expanding into a grin, even as she continued slowly closing the distance between the two women. Ominously, her arms were still crossed, and her right hand was still concealed. "I promise, it won't take too long. If you're a good girl, I might even let you stay conscious this time."

Commander Inzeti thought darkly that Lieutenant Melisande would have fit in very well with the Romulan military. "I will visit the medical bay once I am certain Engineering is secure and stable. I'm afraid I do not have the time now," she said, as she began walking down the hallway.

It was only some sixth sense that caused Commander Inzeti to block as she and the Doctor began to pass one another, very narrowly escaping a hypospray from injecting her. This rapidly began to escalate into unarmed combat, Commander Inzeti using her superior strength and speed to outmaneuver the Doctor's lithe movements, and force the Doctor to drop the hypospray to the ground. However, suddenly she felt a small sting on her neck accompanied by a quiet hissing noise, just before her vision began filling with black spots. Damn her, thought Commander Inzeti. That sneaky bitch had a second hypospray. I wonder if the first one was even filled?

It was her last thought as she lost consciousness.

Chuckling as she tapped her commbadge, Lieutenant Melisande spoke up. "Site to site transport - two to beam directly to the medical bay. The Commander needs a check-up."

As she and the unconscious form of Commander Inzeti appeared in the bluish-white starfield effect of their transporter, Lieutenant Melisande tapped her commbadge again before helping her assistant hoist the Commander onto an exam table. "Captain, this is Doctor Melisande. Commander Inzeti collapsed in the hallway on her way to Engineering. I have her in the medical bay now, and she'll be fine in about an hour."

There was a moment before there was a reply from the bridge, and a barely-audible sigh echoed from the other end of the commlink before the Captain replied. "You ambushed her, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," replied Lieutenant Melisande with a grin, as she expertly began a thorough scan of the unconscious Commander. "I just gave her a sedative to help her."

"I'm sure," replied the Captain, sounding distinctly annoyed over the commlink, despite the lack of visual cues to confirm it. "I'll hold you to your estimate of an hour, Doctor."

"Of course, Captain," said Doctor Melisande with a wide grin as she began to work with her medics to heal the burns on the Commander's still form.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Nivoch System
USS Gilgamesh
Bridge

"Bridge to Lieutenant Vela," said Captain Solheim with somewhat narrowed eyes. Commander Inzeti was stubborn when it came to doctors - she had never really said why, though he'd guessed it had to do with a few of the "debriefings" she'd had in her time with the Romulan military. Given what he knew about those "debriefings," he honestly couldn't blame her, though it did create a very interesting relationship between she and the Chief Medical Officer aboard the Gilgamesh.

"Vela here, sir," came the reply, sounding somewhat absent.

"Lieutenant, I need you to coordinate with Engineering, to make sure all our systems are stable. Do everything you can to get this ship back in order."

"Let me guess, sir," replied the amused voice of the Lieutenant. "The Commander had a run-in with Doctor Ambush, right?"

"Just get it done, Vela. Bridge out," Captain Solheim said somewhat coldly.

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Bridge

“Sir, the Cube is stuck, it’s getting hammered!â€

[frigidmagi]

The shuttles being informed that the Argonaut was stable and under control deviated to the rather broken Heritage. That's when the Heritage... exploded.

"Jesus Almighty what happened?" Yelled a shuttle pilot.


Immortal Bridge

"Damage control reporting in, nothing unrepairable sir. Injured but so far no reported deaths, we are awaiting reports from some decks. Argo is secured and Heritage seems to be down." Tactical reported.

"Send Shuttle Force towards the Gilgamesh, comm the other ships and get status reports. Inform Commander Higgins that I'll need a full overview of the damage and estimated repair time in 12 hours. Tell the XO to start figuring how many colonists we can lift out of here." Captain Anderson ordered.

[General Havoc]

As the brilliant nova slowly began to fade, accompanied by the flashes of sympathetic and secondary explosions, the battered fleet that floated in the now debris-strewn space of Nivoch IV was left to take stock. Pieces of wreckage the size of a Galaxy-class cruiser drifted lazily about, as what was left of the massive Borg Cube drifted off into interplanetary space. Some ships simply sat and watched. Some struggled with the last remaining Borg that had interposed themselves aboard the Starfleet and other Alpha Quadrant ships. And some sifted through the ruins looking for salvage.

There was little enough left, save for raw materials. The Cube's demolition had taken most of her useful systems with her, reducing the most advanced transwarp and shield systems in the galaxy to inert, sparking wreckage. Smaller components were slightly more abundant, but only slightly. Of all the Cube's mighty weapon systems, only two or three dozen heavy plasma torpedoes had survived the engagement incact, along with two heavy disruptor arrays one more or less undamaged, another badly scored, but at least identifiable. Of Transwarp coils there were nothing, not even damaged ones, the combination of nuclear rail accelerator and cometfall strikes having cored out the coils and vaporized them all. A handful of power relays had survived, and other smaller components. One of the Borg communications relays, one of thirty-two that encrusted its surface, had survived at least in some form, as had several of its sensor facings. Of the rest, nothing but ruined slag metal and dead or dismembered drones.

Heritage outlived the Cube that she had been slaved to by a matter of seconds, as a series of internal explosions blew the ship to kindling, source indeterminate. If anything, her death was more total than that of the Cube, for the explosions struck her warp core and armory at once and destroyed them both. The blast was less powerful than that which has destroyed the Cube, but Heritage was an almost infinitely smaller ship. It swept the shuttles that were presently trying to save the boarding party and survivors of the Heritage away from the wreck of the ship, along with those they were trying to save. Of all the men and women aboard the Heritage, between the borg assault, the venting, and the explosion of the ship, only two survived to be rescued by the shuttles. All of the rest, save those saved by Empyrean's transporters, were gone.

Many ships began to converge on the Argonaut, Riskad'h disgorging a wave of Klingon marines to assist in the cleanup of the remaining Borg forces. Between the Klingons, Romulans, and the crew of the Argonaut, to say nothing of the sketchy reports of borg shooting at other borg that continued to trickle in, the remaining Borg boarders didn't stand a chance. A ship the size of Argonaut would require multiple, time-consuming sweeps, before it could be declared secure, but it was barely another ten minutes before all of the crew shelters were reporting no signs of the Borg. By virtue of her own crew, and those of three other ships, Argonaut would survive, where Heritage had not. Casualties, given the scale of the assault, were relatively light.

Relatively.

And as the ships began sifting through the ruins or dealing with damage and residual boarders, down below, on the planet Nivoch IV, the thousands upon thousands of colonists and refugees who had been listening to every word from their subspace radios or the feed from the sattelites that surrounded the planet. Though none could see the explosion of the Borg cube directly, within five minutes, there was not a soul on the planet Nivoch who did not know that the Cube had come, and fought, and died, nor the identity, distorted by rumors though it was, of those who had slain it. Up here, far above the atmosphere, too far away to detect any specific activities on the surface, thousands and tens of thousands kilometers from the colony itself, there was no sign of what this news had resulted in.

At least not until the comms officer of the Immortal reported that there was a transmission waiting for Captain Anderson from the Magistrate of the Nivoch colony...

*-------------------------------------------------------------*

Two by two, the Romulan and Reman marines filed out of the bridge of the Argonaut, until all were gone save for Captain Cretak. Aware that the man before him was not what he seemed, concious of the fact that he had somehow contrived to slay sixty borg heavy assault drones, and that therefore he no doubt had the capacity to overcome a single Romulan, he nonetheless sent his guards away. It was a gesture that few Romulans would have made, even in these days.

"I believe an explanation is in order," said the Captain.

Kalpov watched him carefully, saying nothing, his hand still clasped over the hole that the Romulan marine had shot through him. His other hand gripped the railing, but he did not sway, nor flinch, nor give other evidence of injury and pain. What he was thinking was undiscernable, but he seemed to be weighing options, though he made no move that could be interpreted as hostile, nor, for that matter, any moves at all. Whatever he was, or what forces he had deployed to destroy the Borg, he gave no demonstration of them here.

And then, all of a sudden, Commander Ivan Kalpov simply melted.

No gorey showpiece, no blood, no violent loss of physical form was this, but an organic process. All at once, his entire surface seemed to ripple like a gellatin sculpture, and his body, skin, eyes, hair, uniform and all, turned a light golden color, like that of liquid bronze, save only for the combadge that remained, bobbing gently atop the pile of protoplasm. His form ran together, though not so much as to lose cohesion totally. He remained upright, vaguely humanoid, though without feature or definition, the hand he had clutched to his stomach merging with his torso seemlessly, as the hole that had been shot through him slowly sealed itself.

The entire process took no more than ten seconds, before the semi-liquid structure that had been Commander Kalpov began to firm up once more, achieving definition and structure, solidifying into flesh and fabric. Moments later, and the coloration returned as well, and Commander Kalpov stood before Captain Cretak once again, hale and whole once more, with no evidence of the injury he had sustained, even the hole in his uniform mended as though by magic. He opened his eyes, took a deep breath, gently adjusted the combadge on his uniform manually and looked up at Captain Cretak.

"Captain," he said slowly, stepping forward as he did so, "I understand that - "

He got no further.

As he took his first step, Kalpov stumbled badly, as though his balance was utterly lost, and fell, grabbing at the railing next to him reflexively. It did not avail him at all. His arm reverted to protoplasm the instant he touched the rail, and the rail passed right through it, causing the arm to loose cohesion entirely, and splatter to the ground around him. The rest of Kalpov landed on the ground, and there he remained for several moments, not moving, simply trying to recover equilibrium. Slowly, the splattered remains of his arm began to flow back together, affixing themselves once more at the shoulder, flowing like golden mollasses before setting and hardening and achieving color once more. Carefully, Kalpov turned his arm back and forth, visually inspecting it to ensure it looked the part, but he made no further attempt to put weight on it.

"My apologies, Captain," he said, his voice just the slightest bit tense, as though he was attempting to cover for pain or extreme exhaustion. He gestured at the bodies that covered the bridge. "I wasn't expecting quite this many," he said. "Their disruptors..."

Slowly, this time with visible difficulty, Kalpov got back to his feet, though he managed to do so without further incident. "You wanted an explanation, Captain," he said carefully, giving a very slight shrug. "Well... here you have it. Ivan Kalpov has been dead for nearly three and a half years. I... am the Commander of the Argonaut, in his name, if you like. And as such, on behalf of my ship and my crew," there was an ever so slight emphesis on the word 'my', "I'd... thank you, for what you and your troops did. My crew, and this ship, have been through quite a lot, but it's been a very long time since we had the support of any friendly vessel or force."

Kalpov's midsection slowly began to lose its color and consistency, reverting to bronze gelatin once more. He grimaced slightly and placed his hand over it in the manner of a human with a stomachache, managing slowly to revert it back to its previous coloration.

He exhaled deeply and managed a wry smile. "So, Captain," he said, "I... imagine now that you and I have several matters to discuss?"

[SirNitram]

"This is the Vigilance. Fleet, I'm tracking some heavy plasma munitions. Going to move in to try and extract. Mind the rubble, I think I'm outsized by some of it.."

[Cynical Cat]

"Captain," said Arikel, "sensors indicate that several pieces of Borg power conduits survived."

Kadon swiveled his chair so he was facing ninety degrees off the Executive's station. "Can we make use of it?"

"A high likelihood that we can adapt it to our systems," replied Arikel.

"It would please this one to be able to fully power the flank shields without blowing out half the circuits in the ship."

"This one as well," replied Kallor. "The need for additional shield generators remains."

"Perhaps we should request the Borg supply us with appropriate salvage in the future," said Kadon. "What is the English phrase? A wish list? Yes, perhaps we should make one."

"This one wishes to remind the Captain of the Chief Engineer's reports," said Arikel in a deadpan.

"That might make a good start," said Kadon. "Put me on speakers, ship wide."

"Acting," said Aaveroke. "You are on ship wide."

"This is Kadon," he began. "The Riskadh is again victorious. We have been fortunate to suffer little in the way of battle damage and few casualties among our Marines, who are still fighting the last part of the engagement. We will collect what prizes we can from what remains of the enemy. Later will be the time of grief and the sharing of our anger with the enemy. Now is the time of victory. Sing the songs of triumph. As long as the Riskadh lives the spirit of Kahless lives. The klin lives in all of us and more than the naked stars shall remember."

[Charon]

Adrek sat staring at the results of the scan as they came pouring in. "Heavy Disruptor arrays, power relays. There and there." He pointed out on the screen where the choicest bits seemed to be and the Barbarossa moved as quickly as it could to get in range and attach tractor beams to the indicated components. Only moments later three shuttles came buzzing out of the ship, filled with men in space suits who would more carefully examine the wreckage, get it ready for storage, and make certain it wasn't going to explode once they powered it back on. Other pieces, more memorabilia and trophies, were being grabbed and collected as well by individuals. It was a race, both against Borg reinforcements and whatever other salvage operations were going on as well as the Ferengi brothers looked out at the other ships that were sifting through the wreckage to find the choicest parts.

[frigidmagi]

At least not until the comms officer of the Immortal reported that there was a transmission waiting for Captain Anderson from the Magistrate of the Nivoch colony...

"Captain, tramission from the colony, it's the Magistrate." Comm reported.

"Ah Hell. Put him on screen comm." The Captain ordered.

[General Havoc]

The Magistrate's worn, blue face appeared on the Immortal's screen. Muted sounds of shouting outside could be vaguely hear through the thin walls of his office.

"Commodore," said the Bolian, "our satellites detected a massive radiation pulse on your side of the planet. There's debris entering the upper atmosphere. And the sensors aren't reading any..." he stopped himself, taking a shallow, fitful breath, and trying again. "Is it... dead?" he asked, lowering his tone to nearly a whisper. "Did you kill it?"

[frigidmagi]

"We have defeated the incursion Magistrate. The Cube is destroyed along with it's escorts." Captain Anderson informed the blued skinned alien.

[Marcao]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, IRW S'harien

The S'harien sat unmoving in space its sensor systems performing their tasks as efficiently as possible as they coaxed the secrets from the newly destroyed Borg Cube. Within the armored heart of the S'harien, everyone understood that it was a race between allies as to lay claim on the spoils of war. Had it been a Romulan task force, there would have not been any concerns or difficulties in the process. The varied composition of the task force however and the actions of the Barbarossa had made it clear however that the situation was akin to the old human saying "if you snooze, you lose". The S'harien had no intention of losing its new struggle. As its high definition sensor sweeps danced and kissed the remnants of the Cube, its current commander Erei'Riov Hanaj Dar sat down on his chair and frowned. With Galan on his ill advised visit to the Argonaut, control over the ship had automatically been shunted to his console by the Warbird's central computer.

"Erei'Riov, we have finished our scans of the Borg Cube." His sensor officer stated, as he did so a breakdown of the identified salvage was presented to the erei'riov's console.

Hanaj frowned as the information presented itself. He had not expected that they would be able to easily get their hands on a transwarp coil but he had been open to the possibility. Faced with a breakdown of the available material, Galan would have sought consensus. He had other ideas. "Take what we need, focus on the EPS power relays."

It is easier to ask for forgiveness than to ask for permission.

"On it Erei'riov" His sensor officer replied.

Hanaj focused on his sensor screen and smiled as he identified the four shuttles which had been launched previously by the S'harien. With the destruction of the Cube imminent, they had moved back to carrying out their orders without prompting from the S'harien. One of the signs of competence was initiative. "I want you to send this message to our shuttles through an encrypted channel separate from the one established by the USS Empyrean."

"Acknowledged." The communication officer replied. A handful of breaths later, the message was crafted and sent through encrypted protocols to the daughter craft of the S'harien.

Erei'riov Hanaj allowed himself a smug smile as he leaned back against his chair. The Orions had fallen over backwards seeking to plunder the still burning remnants of the Borg Cube. In doing so, they had sought to compete directly with his own wishes. Unfortunately for the Orions, they did not possess the advantages that his ship possessed. He and his people had actively dealt with Borg technology rather closely for years now. It was an advantage that he had no intention of not utilizing. Furthermore, Galan had planned ahead. He had launched a handful of Romulan shuttles early not to attack the Borg cubes, but to use their cloaks to position themselves in order to scan for Borg technology from destroyed or disabled ships. These ships had now moved back into position and were in the process of securing technology from the secondary craft of the now destroyed Borg fleet.

The most successful Empires always understood the need to expand.

"Erei'Riov we are getting messages from the shuttles liberated from the USS Heritage. They are asking for permission to land." His communication officer stated.

"Do we have space for them?" Hanaj responded.

"At the moment, yes but not when our four shuttles return from their current salvaging operations Erei'riov. The Heritage had two runabouts and two type 11 shuttles. We may be able to effectively fit the runabouts or the shuttles, not both."

"The runabouts have more capabilities than the type 11's. Let them land, once our shuttles return we will make an arrangement to give the type 11's to someone that will benefit from them. Send an inquiry to the Vigilance regarding some of the forces they evacuated from the Heritage. I need an update on their status." Hanaj said.

"On it."

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System, USS Argonaut
Bridge

His eyes watched Kalpov closely as the human in turn watched him. He was very much aware of the circumstances that he had placed himself in but there were times when risk was unavoidable. He expected that even know the S'harien was attempting to keep a transporter lock on him but he recalled the reports that some sort of interference field had prevented sensor scans to be effective earlier during the engagement. He knew his own abilities and yet the scene of carnage around him indicated that his own abilities may not be up to the task of engaging in open hostilities with the man opposite him. He had taken his chance. He had placed himself in harm's way knowing that without risk there could be no reward. He had risked his people, his most precious resource for Kalpov and his ship. Would he meet him halfway?

The thought lingered in his mind for only a handful of precious seconds before Kalpov answered it by seeming to melt. His body seemed to ripple, clothing and skin shifting and turning the hue of amber or honey. His eyes widened ever so slightly, his body betraying what his mind had already begun to realize. He had seen this before. Not in person of course, but he had seen the reports and he had been briefed on more than one occasion. His people had after all, fought a war against the Dominion. His eyes focused on the hole that had been mere moments before been present sealed as if by a simple application of will.

This does explain a few things.

Changelings had always been notoriously difficult to kill. The process took no more than ten seconds or so but in his mind it felt significantly longer. He had never been in the same room as a changeling. The manner that the body seemed to flow from one form to another was nearly hypnotic and he could not help but appreciate the inherent advantages of such capabilities. It was not difficult to see how the Vorta had been so thoroughly convinced that the Founders had been Gods. The changeling that called itself Kalpov finished his transformation, emerging into the world akin to a nearly nascent being. His lips parted, words tumbled from his lips and he took his first step before stumbling. Somehow, the stumble ruined the illusion that he had so meticulously crafted around him.

He watched as the changeling tumbled forward, his attempt to catch his fall failing miserably. He took a reflexive step forward as if his body had momentarily supplanted his brain. What could he do that the changeling itself could not do? The arm splattered to the floor with a sickening sound even as the rest of the changeling impacted the ground and remained still.

"Kalpov!" The words left his lips hurriedly but he forced himself not to move. He could do nothing for the changeling and approaching him now would expose him to potential unforeseen consequences. His eyes focused on the still form of the changeling as his mind raced.

Did I come all this way just to watch him die?

His eyes narrowed a few heartbeats later when the arm seemed to twitch. A second later and the entire arm seemed to vibrate individual components moving slowly towards each other, individual pieces straining towards their siblings before the entire arm seemed to flow back together. The arm moved as if carried by thousands of miniscule legs and pressed to the shoulder where the body of the changeling accepted the offering and made itself whole. The process was disturbing to watch. When the changeling spoke he listened nodding his head in agreement before he responded.

"I can't imagine that even one such as you could take on this many drones and be without wounds." He said softly. What the changeling had done, no one in his ship could do. He doubted that even Captain Kadon himself could take the odds arrayed against the changeling and survive. The might of a Klingon warrior could not be understated but neither could the sheer weight of numbers arrayed around the bridge.

His eyes tracked Kalpov as he stood with visible difficulty but he did not approach. If the changeling needed help he was capable of asking for it. When the changeling finished speaking he hesitated for only a moment before he responded. "There is no need to thank me. The Argonaut has treated my ship and people fairly, you have fought along our side with bravery and honor. I have no desire to lose allies to the Borg at this time. We will need all that we can gather at Bajor." He watched as the changeling's midsection lost focus as if maintaining his current form was a considerable strain. The changeling fixed the situation a moment later but it seemed readily apparent that the confrontation with the Borg had taken its toll.

"Yes, we do although your nature as a changeling does not change our circumstances. It is clear that you have availed commanded this vessel as best you could and have earned the admiration and trust of the men and women under your command." He paused for a moment as he considered the circumstances. "I can't imagine that you have been able to fool everyone on this vessel without some help from key crew members." If that was the case, then the fact that these individuals had not turned on him was another indication of the value they placed on the man.

"Ultimately, the most salient point is this. What are your intention when we reach Bajor? I can't imagine that Starfleet will be foolish enough to try and give this ship to someone else. My expectation is that Kalpov will be promoted to Captain and be given command of this ship. However, the more situations like this that we face the more likely your secret will be revealed. Sooner or later, it will come out. Are you prepared for that? Finally, what if any information do you have regarding the Gamma quadrant and the Dominion?"

As he waited for the changeling to respond he realized that the scene around them would be a detriment when other members of the task force sent forces to the Argonaut. His left hand moved, touching a button on his person which in turn immediately sought to establish contact with the S'harien.

"Riov?" The response was nearly instant.

"I am fine. There are a great deal of dead Borg drones on my location at this time. I want you to beam a number of them to a secure holding area aboard the S'harien for study and disposal." He hesitated for a moment and glanced at Kalpov before he continued. "I will mark the bodies that I want removed with my data pad."

"Confirmed Riov. Waiting on your telemetry."

"Standby."

Galan Cretak reached to his side and withdrew a small and elegant device that represented the top of the line model of the Romulan Star Empire. It had most of the capabilities of a federation tricorder with some additions that deviated from the normal. With this device he identified and tagged the borg drones that seemed to have been torn asunder, stabbed, split in twain or otherwise killed in a manner that would be suggestive of the changeling's nature. The drones that had been shot or otherwise killed where left behind both as a means to collaborate the changeling's story and perpetuate his own prowess. As the drones were tagged, they disappeared into an emerald star field as the transporter system of the S'harien plucked them from the Argonaut and deposited them in a secured location within the Warbird.

"My forces are very efficient are they not?" He said as he sought the eyes of the changeling. Would he understand what he was offering him?

[Cynical Cat]

"Captain, the Romulans are deploying salvage teams from cloaked shuttles," said Arikel. "And the Barbarossa is taking everything it can tractor."

"Clever of Cretak, but this free for all means we'll be negotiating with Orion pirates over parts," said Kadon. There were no tougher negotiators than well armed Orions who had something you badly needed. "That will not do. Extend the Riskadh's shields over the salvage fields to disrupt their operations and prevent beaming," said Kadon. "Aaveroke, tight beam to the S'harien and the Vigilance, tell them to follow my lead. Then tie general channel to the con."

"Acting," said Aaveroke. "Transmission to S'harien and the Vigilance is through. General channels at your option."

"Shields extended," said Kallor. "Tractors standing buy to redirect salvage and shuttles." He touched a button opening the comm channel. "This is Squaldron Leader Kadon of the Riskadh. We are taking possession of the Borg salvage, pending a meeting of fleet captains to decide on appropriate distribution. The Barbarossa is welcome to the meeting and may make any claims it feels are appropriate at that venue. I remind all present that this is a military operating being conducted by the Imperial Klingon Navy in a state of war. We will take appropriate measures if this order is defied. If they wish to appeal this order, the Immortal is within hailing distance." He killed the channel.

"Aaveroke, get a coms link to Anderson and the S'harien and route them to my office." He got up. "Executive, you have the con." He headed off the bridge towards his office. The Orions weren't fools. They knew the best hand they could play to leg a large chunk of the salvage was one that tied them into the fleet. The D'Deridex was too powerful of an asset to lose, but it was an unreliable and inconsistent ally unless they committed themselves to serving with the rest of the hodge-podge force. Right now the best tools to get them to commit were their greed and their desire for self preservation and Kadon intended to use them to their limits.

[LadyTevar]

Kirk had also seen the free-for-all starting, but was too busy making sure her fighters were safely back in the Spector's bays. The Klingon's announcement was greeted with a grimace. "Follow their lead, extend our shields," Kirk ordered. "Send an acknowledgment to the Riskadh, open channel so the Barbarossa overhears."

[Charon]

Hizir narrowed his eyes and growled slightly under his breath as the Klingons laid "claim" to the loot.

"Khoal they touch any of our men you send a warning shot over their head." He growled slightly as he glanced back.

Khoal simply nodded and looked down at his console, hoping this didn't break out into a fight again.

Danava's smile had turned into a smirk as she stood behind Hizir, one hand on his shoulder. The whole bridge was quiet for a moment as all eyes were on their captain.

Finally Hizir broke the silence. "Acknowledge their call for parlay. Do not acknowledge that this is a Klingon military operation or that they have claim to the wreckage. Ask them where they suggest this meeting will be held." Snorting in derision after the brief message was sent, he leaned back in his chair and opened a comm line to his salvage operation.

"Ease off for now boys. We're going to go have a chat with some heavily armed Klingons over the matter of wreckage."

"What?! Damnit Hizir you-" Hizir cut off the channel before the angry Ferengi could say anymore and sighed. "Khoal, Danava, you're with me. Pick out one Romulan marine and one Orion Marine to join us. Ereiss, you'll have the bridge when we're gone. Don't kill anybody."

The navigator snarled. "No promises."

[SirNitram]

"Received, Rikash. Adjusting vector towards orbit." Markson was less than enthused at having to abort from resupply, but he could see the point. Him recovering the rare ammunition he needed was important, but preventing this from descending into chaos was more important. The massive Vigilance shifted it's trajectory, sailing by the Barbossa with impunity.

[Cynical Cat]

"The Barbarossa is replying," said Aaveroke. "They acknowledge our request to parlay and are willing to meet us. They do not acknowledge us having any jurisdiction over this matter."

A round of low chuckles greeted that response. "They are asking where and when we wish to conduct this parlay," continued Aaveroke.

"Ah," said Arikel. "This one is either not as intelligent as the captain believed or plays a deeper game. Let us see. Zan Aaveroke."

"Executive?"

"Inform the Barbarossa that the time and place will be chosen by the captains of the fleet. When that occurs they will be informed."

[Hotfoot]

Alpha Quadrant
Nivoch System
Empyrean Bridge

As the Heritage erupted into a rapidly expanding cloud of debris from the annihilation of matter and antimatter within the ship itself, Captain DuBois clenched his jaw. He had done all he could reasonably do to save the ship and crew, but in the end it was just one more ship destroyed by the Borg. Small though the crew might have been, dozens more names were to be added to the honor roll of those who had fought and died against this seeming unending threat. Names that would never be remembered if the Borg continued their fight. “Mister Dunok, do a deep scan of the wreckage of all the Borg ships. I want anything that even looks like it could transmit a signal identified and marked as a target and dealt with. Once we’ve mopped that up, disengage the M.I.S., I suspect Doctor Vares could do with some assistance soon.â€

[Cynical Cat]

"We're being hailed by the Empyrean," said Aaveroke. "They are warning us of several pieces of salvage they believe to be active Borg communication's equipment."

"Well of course our science and communications departments are busy drinking blood wine and slamming bat'leths together so we might have missed a subspace signal," said Kallor. "Perhaps we should also ask them which side of a disruptor to hold."

"Thank the Empyrean for their assistance," said Arikel. "Continue salvage operations. Chief Engineer Seragal is to have a full report as soon as possible."

[LadyTevar]

USS Spector
Battle Bridge

"Captain, we have recovered both missing pilots," Serin announced. There was only the slightest hint of relief in his Vulcan-trained voice, but the rest of the crew all gave more vocal expression to their joy. Eoife finally relaxed, slumping forward in the captain's chair momentarily. Only one death, out of three lost fighters.

"The Empyrean has offered to host the fleet captains for a meeting. They have also pointed out Borg communications among the wreckage and suggest destroying those to prevent possible communications."

Eoife straightened up, looking at the monitor showing the areas marked. None were near her workbees or shuttles. "Fine. Call back all ships until the Captains work out salvage. Mark and track what we can use to machine more torpedoes, since probably be bidding on things. What news on repairs?"

"We suffered very minor damages," Serin replied. "Crews are working on them now. The fighters are all docked, minor damages only, easily repaired. We will need to manufacture more torpedoes to replace those we used, however we used only 45.83% of our stocks."

"Good. Stand down to General Quarters, you have the conn. I am going to be in Sickbay."

"Aye, Captain."

+++++++++++
USS Spector
Sickbay

Eoife walked into the Sickbay, looking around to see how many injured crew were within. It was reassuring to see the majority of the injuries were minor, due more to momentary clumsiness than battle wounds. She did not see the doctor, but assumed he was busy. She kept out of the way of the nurses, walking into the quiet room where the true Captain of the Spector slept.

There she found Doctor Ian Jones, waiting for her. The bed behind him was covered with a blue opaque stasis screen, the monitors turned off. Her shocked eyes turned to the Doctor, as Ian stepped forward to put an arm on her shoulder. "There was a power surge," Ian said quietly, and Eoife winced. It wasn't supposed to happen, there were backups, baffles, fuses... but the Spector had been running on jerryrigs, spit and bailingwire for far too long.

Yet, the tears did not come. "Captain?" Eoife's head jerked up, to protest, but Ian shook his head. "No... now it's official. You're the new captain, Kirk." Even then, Eoife could only wince at the two words combined. "Now, now, I heard you declaring yourself as such during the fight. I expect you're going to not hear the end of it either. Time to stand up to the curse of the name."

[General Havoc]

The Bolian's expression performed several minute gyrations as he was told the news. He slumped back in his chair, some (though not all) of the strain withdrawing from his face. If he thought to wonder at how less than a dozen ships had succeeded in defeating and destroying a Borg Cube, he did not ask the question. It was, perhaps tempting fate to do so.

It took the Magistrate a few moments to reply.

"Commodore, we..." he hesitated. It had plainly been a long time since there had been anything positive for him to say. "We would all be dead if it weren't for your ships and crews. We can never repay you for that. News will already be spreading through the colony. Your crews will be the heroes of the hour. Any supplies we have that you need... just give us a list and we'll see what we can do."

Despite his words, the Magistrate did not sound celebratory. Something else was clearly on his mind.

"Commodore, we should meet as soon as possible," he said. "Your ship, someone else's, here on the colony, it doesn't matter where. Your ships will be moving on to Bajor soon, no doubt, and we have to talk before they do so. I imagine you can figure out why."

*------------------------------------------------------*

"Argonaut has eleven hundred crew aboard," said Kalpov. "Two of them are aware of my... status. My first officer, and the ship's doctor. Between the three of us, we have managed thus far to avoid any close inquiries. The rest of the crew believe, more or less, that I am simply a 'lucky' captain, and therefore that Argonaut is a lucky ship. It's an interpretation I've encouraged, as best I can."

The discoloration returned, and Kalpov half-walked, half-stumbled over to the Captain's chair, shoving a dead Borg Drone off of it and sitting down with a groan. Clearing his throat, he patted his com-badge once.

"Bridge to Commander Ereshal," he said, evenly as he could. "Your assistance is required on Deck One. Please respond as time permits."

Turning back to the Romulan Captain, who had taken the opportunity to ask his own ship to begin transporting the dead drones to deep space, Kalpov nodded weakly at the Captain's remark concerning his own crew.

"With respect, Captain," said Kalpov, "my concern right now isn't your crew's efficiency, it's their deductive capacity. I obviously don't know your intentions. As to mine, I never bothered to take them past trying to see my ship and crew through this war. I'm sure you can understand, someone in my position faces certain... problems. My people trust Commander Kalpov to see them through this, at least to the point that they trust anyone to. The revelation that Commander Kalpov was a changeling all along would likely result in very bad things. I've taken what precautions I can, but as you can obviously tell, they weren't designed with Romulan boarding parties in mind. Not that I'm complaining that you helped save my crew, Captain, but four dozen of your men just saw me get shot with a high explosive round and survive. I..." Kalpov trailed off for a moment. "I don't really have a plan to cover this sort of situation."

His reflections were interrupted by the sparkle of a transporter, Federation this time, as moments later, an antennaed Aenar materialized on the bridge with a phaser drawn. She stepped forward, stopped, looking around the bridge in a degree of astonishment. Even with the S'harien's efforts, the bridge remained covered in dead Borg, and it was several moments before she spotted Commander Kalpov sitting in the captain's chair, and the Romulan captain next to him. The Commander she had plainly expected to see. The Romulan she had not.

Kalpov managed a weary smile. "Captain Cretak," he said, "I believe you've met my first officer, Lt. Commander Fiy'at Ereshal. Commander, this is Captain Galan Cretak, of the Battlecruiser S'harien." Kalpov took a deep breath. "We were just discussing changelings."

Ereshal's cringed, physically cringed, but mastered herself before more than a moment had passed as she slowly slid the phaser back into its holster and walked over to Kalpov, stepping around the remaining Borg. She said nothing to Cretak, at least not for now.

"My god, Ivan" she said. "How many?"

Kalpov shrugged. "Sixty maybe. I'm not entirely - "

"Not the Borg," said the Aenar Commander, "how many shots."

Kalpov groaned softly, his expression twisting into a grimace. "I lost count after fourteen. I was busy."

"Fourteen?" exclaimed Ereshal. "Are you crazy?! Why didn't you - "

"Because I'm iredeemably stupid," said Kalpov curtly. "We have guests if you hadn't noticed, so if you don't mind we can do this later. At any event it was more than fourteen. And I'm fine, by the way, thanks for asking."

"You're not even close to fine," said Ereshal. "You ought to be dead. We need to get you to sickbay."

Kalpov laughed nervously, as the discoloration at his midsection continued to churn like jellied honey. "I really don't think that's a good idea right this second," he said with some difficulty.

"We can beam you directly to - "

"Sickbay will be crawling with wounded right now," said Kalpov with some urgency. "And in this state, I'm not sure that I could hold a solid form through a transport. I'd melt on the spot."

Ereshal shook her head. "All right then," she said. "Go into your ready room and," she glanced nervously at Captain Cretak, "and disolve. Use the medical kit or something portable. I'll bring you down to sickbay myself in a little bit."

Kalpov was having none of it. "There has to be Borg still on the ship. I'm not leaving until - "

"The Romulans and the Klingons have helped us contain the Borg, and we've liquidated most of them," said Ereshal. "We've got security teams sweeping the ship now. We're okay, Ivan. Go to the ready room."

Kalpov seemed to hesitate. "What are you gonna tell the crew?"

"The truth," said Ereshal. "That you were stupid enough to try and take the Borg on by yourself on the bridge and got badly hurt. The Doctor will cover the rest. Luther will probably try to kill you himself when you get better."

Kalpov smiled weakly. "After this one, I might let him," he said, and straining visibly, he managed to stand up. He turned to Captain Cretak and half-extended his hand, but his hand turned to jelly as he did so, and lost solidity, melting into a blob of protoplasm. Kalpov sighed softly, and sheepishly withdrew it.

"Captain," he said, "I'm afraid... we may need to put this conversation off. But... all things considered. Thank you for helping save my crew. Whatever else happens, thank you."

Moments later, Kalpov's entire form turned liquid, and he melted like a candle, slowly descending into a puddle of thick ooze which began to slither across the floor of its own accord, sliding around the remaining Borg corpses and up to the door that led to the Argonaut's ready room. Ereshal followed the puddle, stepping up to the door to trigger the motion sensor, and peeking inside to ensure that there was nobody within. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she stepped aside to let the puddle that had been the Commander of the Argonaut slide in, and then turned away, permitting the door to close behind him.

Slowly, Ereshal descended back into the bridge, towards the Romulan captain, shaking her head slowly as she did so. Carefully, she approached the Romulan, seemingly looking straight through him with the blank, opaque eyes common to her race. Her comment on these events, when she gave it, was uncomfortably, if perhaps pardonably, direct.

"We can't stop you from telling everyone else," she said. "But only me and the doctor know, and I don't know what would happen if the rest of the crew found out. I..." she was plainly not sure of what to say or do, this situation clearly a theoretical one for so long, and now suddenly made real. "What do you plan to do?" she finally asked.