***
Written By
Michael Gray
***
Please Note-
As with all of the material presented in
the Star Trek: Dark Horizon story, this installment
falls generally within the PG-13 category.
***
***
Chapter 1 - Thursday, 08 May 2378
Jack McCall was dead.
At least that's how he felt as his heart cried out in more pain than he'd ever thought possible. Outwardly, however, he stood at attention with more than seven hundred of his fellow officers on the grounds of Starfleet's headquarters.
It was the kind of blustery day that back home, Jack would have expected in late fall. On this world, the weather didn't follow any of the patterns he was accustomed to. For the planet Kel-j'na this was mid-spring.
Admiral Fergus Simmons stepped to the podium before the large group, his white hair flung about by the blowing wind. His age had begun to show in the admiral's eyes lately. There were too many things that disturbed his sense of well-being. The reason for this occasion, being chief among them.
"We have gathered here today to pay respect to our honored dead from the starship Balthazar," Simmons started softly. "As well as those who are missing."
That last struck Jack the hardest. He and everyone else knew who Simmons referred to.
Several officers looked Jack's way, but in that quick, oh, I was just looking at the sky, kind of way.
They wanted to see if he was okay, if he was holding up.
But he wasn't.
Jack was dead.
Just two hours before the ceremony, Jack McCall had been called to Admiral Simmons office. Jack's ship, the Chamberlain, had entered orbit of Kel-j'na only six hours earlier. He had hoped the reason for the meeting was to plan an assault on the world of Nybiros, but Jack knew it was highly unlikely. At this point, he had little more than a fleeting hope left to comfort him.
"Read this," Simmons said moments after Jack sat across from the admiral's desk. "After you sent along information on the Nybiros system I dispatched two Defiant class ships, under cloak, to scan that world."
Jack looked up from the PADD, surprised.
The admiral walked over to a nearby cabinet. "Their observations confirmed your report. The planet is heavily protected by a large number of orbital emplacements and a shield system our best researchers can only make guesses about."
Simmons turned away from the cabinet, now carrying a box about two feet square.
"They continued to observe, taking note of various activities and scanning for any signs of human life," Simmons said as he set the box on his desk.
Jack looked up at his superior. "I take it they've found none yet."
Simmons shook his head. "They noticed regular shipments from the planet to their star. Evidently some sort of waste disposal. The volume of the material suggests their either producing a hell of a lot of garbage, or their hollowing out the planet for some unknown reason."
Jack's eyes widened as Simmons opened the box and pulled out a tattered uniform jacket and a green science department shirt with the rank pins of a lieutenant.
Jack's breath left him as his heart raced.
"The Bowman did their best to scan the shipments, and on the fifth day, picked this up," Simmons stated. "We've done a full analysis."
Jack took the shirt in his hands. He didn't need a science lab to tell him it belonged to his wife, Mei-Wan. Tears fell from his eyes.
"Her body?" Jack whispered.
"There was no sign of it," the Admiral replied. "They dump fifty thousand tons of material every three hours, so we probably missed it when they..."
Jack closed his eyes. "What about my father?"
"Nothing," Simmons said. "We were lucky to find this," he said pointing at the uniform.
Jack paid little attention to what Simmons said after that. He no longer cared.
Mei! his mind screamed. After everything he had gone through to find her on the world of Antenora barely a month before, he hadn't expected to have his search end like this.
Later, he was surprised at how little anger he'd had for the inhabitants of Nybiros. The only thing he felt after Simmons showed him the uniform was the kind of gut-wrenching agony that made people leap out of thirty story windows.
"Because we have so little evidence concerning your father, I've decided to list both he and Mei-Wan as missing for another few weeks, just in case," Simmons told him. "However, I don't think there's much hope of..."
"I want to take the Chamberlain to Nybiros," Jack said suddenly. "We will continue searching."
Simmons shook his head. "The Bowman and the Kinkaid were detected despite their cloaks, four days ago. The Bowman barely escaped, and lost nine of her crew. I'm not risking any more lives on this, Jack."
"But..."
"No," Simmons said with finality. "There's nothing more to learn in that system. They're gone, Jack."
Jack McCall stood to his feet and was about to turn when Simmons cut him off.
"Sit down, Captain!"
Jack, startled by the volume of the admiral's voice, stopped. After a moment he returned to his seat.
Simmons observed him for nearly a minute before speaking again. "I'm placing you on a one month leave from your command."
Jack began to protest, but Simmons again cut him off.
"You have no say in the matter," the older man pointed out. "I've discussed your psychological condition with your ship's counselor, and she agrees you need an extended leave."
"Admiral, with all due respect," Jack began. "The last thing I need is leave."
"The last thing I need is you going off half cocked and getting everyone on the Chamberlain killed in some foolish act of revenge."
"I wasn't going to..."
"That's a lie and you know it," Simmons said in a steely tone. "Jack, I know this is probably the worst moment of your life, and all you can think about is directing the pain you feel right now at someone, anyone who might be responsible for what's happened."
Jack leaned forward in his chair. "I have a ship to command, I..." his voice broke. A moment later, he wept. The full weight of losing Mei-Wan and his dad fell on his soul.
Simmons stood and walked over to him. He placed his hand gently on Jack's shoulder.
"Captain, the last thing I want to do is take away your command," Simmons said with more warmth than Jack had ever remembered from the admiral. "You've lost two people you loved. Despite what starship captains wish to believe, they're still as vulnerable as anyone to personal pain."
Jack tried to force back his emotion, but found it too difficult. "Please, don't make me..."
"No one will hold it against you for taking leave right now, Jack," Simmons said. "Starfleet isn’t here to destroy your career and neither am I. You can get past this and your previous problems, if you're willing to work on them. Don't miss this opportunity."
He looked up at Simmons. "What's the point?"
"The point is, life goes on," Simmons said softly. "You may never get past the pain of losing them, but you can decide not to let that pain destroy you. It's up to you... Captain McCall."
A gust of wind blew through the rows of officers as Jack's mind returned to the present. Simmons was speaking of Jack's father, Admiral Jeremiah McCall. He mentioned his many accomplishments and how he rose to finally command the Third Fleet.
"As proud as Jeremiah was of everything he had achieved," Simmons said. "He never dwelt on any of it, never boasted of it, never held it as something to be proud of."
Simmons smiled. "He told me once fighting successful battles, discovering new worlds, and giving aid to those in trouble never touched him even a tenth as much as when he first looked into his son's eyes, knowing that no matter what happened to him, a part of him, the best part, would continue on."
Jack didn't appreciate Simmons bringing him into his father's eulogy, but he couldn't muster enough emotional energy to get angry at the admiral.
It didn't matter, he told himself.
"So, despite the losses we memorialize this day," Simmons continued. "Let us consider the legacy of the Balthazar crew as we look to our own lives and service. And with a renewed vigor, let us act to honor their ultimate sacrifice."
Simmons stepped away and another officer, a female with the rank of commander, stepped up to the podium. She began reading off the crew roster of the ill-fated starship Balthazar.
***
The being whose consciousness now inhabited the body of Admiral Jeremiah McCall looked out upon Ikrales, the largest city of the G'voda on the planet Nybiros. He watched several small craft ascend into the warm night air above the bright lights of the metal metropolis while he considered the past.
... and the future.
So much had happened in the five billion years of his captivity. So much had changed. The Beota were gone, but those Ancient Progenitors had spread their genetic material across the Galaxy. Now the diversity of life he had once known was overrun with the progeny of his enemy. Humanoids seemed to crawl upon every world he asked about.
How he longed for the time when things were not so, a time when he stood upon his homeworld of Ekenlar with his wife and child thinking only of the future happiness which stood before them. How he missed them; especially her.
Fepaar, my love, his mind called out.
He imagined he could almost hear her voice call his name from the depths of space and time.
Setacvas, she would say to him. Come to me, my love.
How long it had been since he had heard her call to him.
But that was before the vaxatrle had come--- 'the thing that should not be.'
Since then he had taken many names: Porlaltha, Jirlicili, Culfran, and Agalia. All were necessary when he and his kind were hunted by those who wished nothing but their extinction.
Now, in this time period he had taken another identity--- Admiral Jeremiah McCall.
He took a deep breath of the dry, warm air. A smile came to his face.
How long had it been, he wondered, since he had been able to smell the fragrances in the air? How long had it been since he felt the weight of gravity? Or the entrancing whispers of sleep?
He closed the eyes of the body he now lived within.
He had led the others to give up their physical form. He had told them it would finally allow them to defeat the Beota, instead it had given their enemy a chance to imprison the last sixty of them.
He wished the others had defied him. They should never have given up who and what they were. But his point of view had ruled the day. His will was followed.
Many had always said he led them with the inherent power of his voice; others had claimed his ability resided within the moral certitude found within that same voice. Whatever it had been, he had taken them from certain destruction to a possibility of survival on too many occasions to count. However, he now realized that last exertion of his will over the others had left them more vulnerable despite the power of their current form.
It had been the exercise of that power, which had led the Beota and Vedala to them five billion years ago. In this era, he feared the Vedala would use it to again find them, and either imprison them as before, or finally put an end to his kind.
His kind.
Setacvas and the others were the last of his kind--- those the Vedala called the Ladeo Jutamfa, a title he hated. The Beota words meant, 'Beings of Ultimate Darkness,' a phrase he had once laughed at as the ravings of a mad people the first time he had heard it.
He no longer laughed.
His kind's true name, Volmvas, in their own tongue had the meaning: 'people of light'. They used that term because of the bio-luminescence of their true forms. It was a literal description of what they were.
But he knew the intention of the Beota's use of the term 'darkness.' It was to brand them as an evil to be feared at first, then fought, and finally eradicated.
The Beota had held that belief so strongly, they had sacrificed themselves to imprison the last of the Volmvas. Now he understood why they had been willing to make such a sacrifice.
The body he resided in explained everything. Despite minor differences from world to world, humanoids had few true differences between them.
The madness of the Ancient Progenitors succeeded in reshaping the Galaxy.
Now the last act of that reshaping would be brought to bear upon him and the others to prevent them from thwarting the plans of the Progenitors. He wondered if that was even possible anymore. The sixty of them had so little true power at their disposal.
Setacvas looked skyward with the eyes of Jeremiah McCall. He wished he could somehow undo everything. He wished he could once again stand at Fepaar's side and live a quiet life with her.
Pushing that thought aside, he turned and walked from the balcony. His mind returned to the task before him.
He had to rein in the G'voda who, because of their actions over the last five billion years, put at risk everything they had fought for. The Volmvas stood at annihilation's doorstep with only the smallest of margins for escape. If he failed, his kind would be forever lost.
***
The current problem Setacvas faced resided within a large, ten foot tall, metal figure.
Syronus, the Chief Commander of the G'voda, stood looking at their captive.
"Why are you still having difficulty infiltrating their collective?" the G'voda commander asked a smaller humanoid-looking machine next to him.
"There are various safeguards in their system," Cilda explained. "It adapts each time we near success."
Syronus leaned closer to the dismantled cybernetic organism on the table. "We will succeed."
The head of the dark clad figure turned to him. "You will fail as all others have against the collective."
Syronus' glowing eyes brightened slightly. "Your arrogance will be your undoing, my dear."
"Arrogance only exists in the presence of ignorance," the Borg Queen responded. "You like so many other species will discover that truth eventually." She tried to lift her arm, but the restraints prevented it. "Why not accept the inevitable?"
"I might ask you the same question," Syronus replied.
"Do not equate yourselves with the Borg," the Queen spat. "Your artificial form does not allow you to adapt as our organic aspect does us. You will discover too late, the flaw of your design."
Syronus stood to his full height as the body of Jeremiah McCall walked into the room.
"She still fights our attempts at access, Master Setacvas," the G'voda commander told the human. "We might see more progress if we were to take all information the Federation has on the Borg."
Jeremiah/Setacvas grinned. "Then I suggest you put your spies within Starfleet to that task."
Syronus showed none of the building anger he felt. "That kind of information is kept on only a few Federation worlds. Starfleet Intelligence guards it well."
Setacvas scanned Jeremiah's memories for confirmation of the G'voda's assertion. He frowned.
"You will have to rely on your own methods."
"An attack on Earth, Andor, or Vulcan would face little, to no resistance," Syronus responded.
"It's too much of a risk!" shouted the voice of Admiral Jeremiah McCall.
"Risk?" the resonating, metallic voice of the ten foot tall G'voda asked. "What possible risk is there in finally taking what is ours?"
Jeremiah turned and glared at the machine. "The Vedala."
"The Vedala haven't once bothered us in over five billion years," he replied.
"That's what worries me," Jeremiah/Setacvas said. "They probably didn't consider you a threat. Which means their power has grown to near unimaginable levels."
The machine turned away, not wanting to vent its anger on its "Master."
"Do not underestimate the humans' ability to fight you," the Borg Queen told them both. "Their resourcefulness is quite extraordinary."
Syronus turned to her. "Your opinion was not invited... abomination."
The Queen smiled. "And you speak of my arrogance?"
Syronus turned back to the form of the Starfleet Admiral. "We should strike the Federation now."
"No," came the reply.
Syronus took two steps toward the human. "The Vedala will do nothing! We awaited your return! You of the Volmvas told us we would rule the Galaxy one day! What stands in our way?!"
Jeremiah/Setacvas turned to the machine. "Do you reject my authority, Syronus?"
The mechanical brain considered all the possible answers it could give, and finally decided this was not the time to challenge the authority of those they had always called "master", but he was certain that time was near at hand. Of all of the Volmvas, this one could be destroyed with ease. Syronus knew how much of his power Setacvas had given up to reside in the human's body. Before the other Volmvas could respond from their hiding place hundreds of light years away, Syronus could make his move.
But not yet.
"No," Syronus said. "Not at all. But you and the others have been away. You don't have as much experience with the Galaxy as we G'voda do."
"It is your experience that troubles me," Jeremiah's mouth stated. "Conquering the Fashod was foolish. If you had remained hidden, we could move much more freely now."
"If you had not allowed yourselves to be imprisoned, we would not need to worry about the Vedala, the Federation, or anything else," Syronus shot back.
Setacvas sensed the growing disgust Syronus felt for him. Eventually the G'voda would kill him. His choice was now made for him, but he needed to let Syronus have a small victory for the time being. Distracted by battle, Syronus would learn of his plan far too late to stop him.
"You may 'probe' Starfleet's defenses," he told Syronus.
The G'voda hesitated. "Probe?"
"Let us see if the Vedala will come to the defense of the Federation," Jeremiah/Setacvas said. "If they do, then the G'voda will pay the price alone."
Syronus watched as the human walked out of the room. He turned to Cilda as another of his aides entered. "Is the other one functional yet?"
The humanoid shaped machine turned to him. "We have restructured the neural pathways for program insertion."
Syronus turned to his aide. "Perhaps we should acquire some Vedala technology to put our Master's fears to rest."
The aide looked behind him, afraid they might be overheard. "What of the Federation?"
"We have been given leave to 'probe' their defenses," Syronus told the aide. "But I intend to probe not only their technology, but their willingness to fight. We will strike with such ferocity, that the humanoids will learn the lesson they refused to accept five billion years ago. We will use their fear to turn events to our favor."
Several seconds later, after Syronus and his aide had left, Cilda continued her work on the Borg Queen's connection to the Collective.
The Queen smiled and allowed herself a brief moment of laughter.
"Resistance is futile, Syronus," she whispered.
