1. Chapter 1

Xel's view was littered with light and not the good kind. Each flash or streak of light meant a ship being fired upon, being torn open, someone dying, or about to die. Pushing, pulling, and even tilting the stick pointed the Peregrine Class attack fighter in various directions but there was no escaping the chaotic spray of ships, explosions, phaser fire, torpedoes, and debris. There was also a planet, Bajor being battered and evacuated.

This was the battle the Federation had prepared for. With their new found alliance with both Qo'Nos and Romulus, the Dominion was pushing through the Bajoran Wormhole en masse, making its move to obliterate the Federation. Their first objective was control of the Bajoran Wormhole.

Success.

Xel was not there to see it, but the Federation's efforts to seal the wormhole had failed. Deep Space Nine contained more than just members of many races, more than Bajoran and Federation personnel and the enslaved Cardassians, but friends and colleagues. All were quickly considered expendable and, one subspace torpedo later, it was destroyed. The resulting spatial disturbance was inadequate in destabilizing the wormhole.

The battle raged and remaining Federation forces fell back to Bajor where the remaining fleet awaited.

Xel piloted over a Klingon bird of prey, strafing it and lowering what shield percentage it had left. Voices were filling the comms and all argued over what to do next to seal the wormhole. Dominion vessels were still pouring in.

An alarm sprang to life and Xel looked over the console. The Peregrine class fighter was being pursued by two fighters, one being Klingon, the other, Romulan. With a bit of luck as it turned out, the two were clearly arguing over who would get this one. They were still unsettled allies and their bickering gave Xel the opportunity to roll, loop back, punch the throttle, and end up behind them. Both ended up as small debris fields speeding toward the atmosphere of Bajor.

The Federation had its alliances as well. The single element that had kept this war within the confines of Cold War, was their Borg alliance.

The race that befriended no one and assimilated all was eventually overtaken by individuality. The collective was broken and the race returned to their natural ways. Finally, naturally born Borg. Finally, no longer a threat. And they allied themselves with the one force that brought on such a revolution in the Borg; the Federation.

Xel performed another strafe and disabled the weaponry of a Romulan vessel.

Many Borg strove to prove themselves formidable warriors, pilots, and service personnel. More than a millennium of assimilating other races reduced their natural evolutionary advances.

Xel recalled the ridicule as a child on Earth. Now however, many have risen to the occasion to prove themselves both loyal and able.

Xel was one of them. In the arena, in the cockpit, even as Tactical Officer, those skills were seldom matched.

Home was pretty much on the bridge of the Salasusa and at Tactical, but piloting was something that just came natural. Xel had weaknesses and worked hard to overcome them or cover them over.

Looking at the sensors, Xel noticed the DKR (Dominion, Klingon, Romulan) Triad were trying to force Federation forces away from each other, to spread the battle, to take them on one by one. The Triad had caught wind of what the Federation possibly had up its sleeve and decided to throw the battle into all kinds of confusion. All formations broke and the space above Bajor became a massive blob of chaos. Xel made out Captain Kelethan's voice from all the others wrestling to be heard.

"The Triad is trying to spread the battle in all directions. Jam all transmissions. Don't let..." and that voice dropped out.

"Captain Kelethan," Xel pulled on the trigger and sent out a spread of phaser fire. The receiving Dominion vessel started in a series of explosions. "Come in Captain Kelethan."

Xel quickly hoped that the DKR did manage to jam transmissions though it would have meant a full retreat, but that hope was crushed as voices were still heard. A moment later, a chunk of hull with a charred "SAL" with half of the following "A" went floating by.

"All surviving Salasusa personnel." It was the admiral's voice. "You are now under the command of Admiral Bridgers of the Heracles. Focus all fire on the lead Dominion ship."

Xel did not care for orders right then. Her ship, her home was floating all around in burning bits. All that mattered was to bring destruction to those that brought it upon the Salasusa. After all that had happened and all that Captain Kelethan had tried to do, the ship, the captain, and all that Xel considered friends and shipmates were dead. Half of the ship's fighters were still flying. The Salasusa CAW, Dangremon Herschel had to quickly adapt to his new position as he was being given orders from the Heracles' CAW.

"All fighters, attack pattern alpha," he said.

"Belay that," said the Heracles CAW. "Concentrate fire on the dorsal shielding."

Xel only smirked. "Serves him right."

Xel's name was being called over and over again as the Peregrine fighter was the only one under command of the Heracles that was not responding to orders. Xel had not turned to intercept the lead Dominion ship. The promise was still there that the Salasusa was to be avenged and that vengeance was to be taken out on those that brought it.

The announcement blared over the comms that Bajor was finally evacuated. Everything of value was off or leaving, though an estimated hundred thousand people were still on the surface. Regardless, the Federation decided to play its card of doom.

An immediate bombardment of Bajor with anti-matter bombs was ordered. All ships were to fully dispense their load upon the planet. Flash after flash was visible from space and it took only minutes before the entire surface was laid to waste. Energy readings went off the scale, spiked, then plummeted, only to spike again. Xel did not take notice, but did after a bright flash seemed to fill existence. Banking and looking out, Bajor was flying apart.

If only sound could travel through space, Xel could have heard and felt the tremendous price the Federation decided it could pay. Xel wanted to get a glimpse of what it was like to destroy something so big and important. Afterall, it was what the Borg had done for so long. And now the Federation seemed no different.

Their objective was achieved however. The Bajoran wormhole, effected by the distortions sent from the destruction of the planet, flashed once and was gone. It closed only to reopen elsewhere. A ship disappeared, then it was gone again.

Xel returned to the promise of revenge. All that was thought on was what Captain Kelethan tried to achieve. Peace could have been attained, Bajor could have been saved, and trade between the two quadrants of space could have continued had it not been for the Federation and its deaf ears.

Finally, after avoiding more fire, debris, and another enemy ship, the vessel ultimately responsible for the destruction of the Salasusa did appear before Xel's craft. A finger hovered above the launch trigger. It hesitated, then flexed and a subspace torpedo was fired from one of the launch tubes on the fighter.

"Lt. Arrackis, what the hell are you doing?" There was a pause and the voice returned. "Lt. Arrackis. Come in. We've won."

After another short spanse of silence, "All personnel, Lt. Arrackis has fired upon the Heracles. Target and destroy the Peregrine class fighter of Lt. Arrackis."

Nothing else mattered. The recent discoveries on board the Salasusa, despite its destruction was already known. Information would surely leak out and Xel's name would certainly surface. It was All-or-Nothing time and it was all Xel could do to not launch the remaining torpedoes at the Heracles.

All ships that were not being pummeled by chunks of Bajor were falling back and the DKR Triad commenced a full retreat.

Several fighters formed on Xel's six. The lead turned out to be Dangremon Herschel himself. As he was following orders to dispatch the ship that had fired on the Heracles, he locked on, but was himself fired upon by another Salasusa craft.

Looking at the console, Xel saw one craft disappear as an explosion was registered from behind. Could have been Herschel. Death was suddenly desirable and the Peregrine fighter continued a straight line toward the Heracles. Anyone that fired would have had to try hard to miss, but the sudden skirmish from behind caused even more confusion and chaos.

All was drowned out, however.

Bajor's core finally became exposed to the vacuum of space. That and the standing anti-matter that remained behind caused another explosion, a bright flash from behind and, mysteriously, one from the front.

There was only enough time to recognize the event directly ahead, not enough time to veer away. It was a wormhole. Xel was certainly going to find out where it went.

Almost as soon as it appeared, it sucked in Xel's ship and was gone.

There was nothing else but a beautiful tunnel of water. It was the only way Xel could think to describe it. Not like flying through a glass tube underwater, but as if the water's surface was all around. It waved and folded, bent and curved this way and that. Xel simply released the stick and those hands hovered above the console. Mistakes were not desirable when traveling through a wormhole, especially on one's first time. Looking ahead, Xel made out the small dot of the subspace torpedo that was meant for the Heracles. It was not getting any further away or getting any closer. It was just there and keeping itself in the center of the watery tunnel. That or the tunnel held it in the center, like it held Xel's ship. It turned on its own to compensate for the turning and folding of the wormhole.

The console was of no use. Readings were jumping back and forth from all extremes, then they started overloading and, bit by bit, the ship started shutting down.

The watery tunnel ended after another bright flash. The ship stopped rocking every which way and Xel was quick to crank up the manual polarization. Despite the lack of power, there was no need in being completely vulnerable.

Attempting the console for further systems was a waste of time. Everything was offline. Eyesight was still fine and beyond the glass of the cockpit, those eyes caught the sign of that subspace torpedo still looming forward. Where the Heracles used to be was replaced by an allied vessel.

"Sphere. No!"

Borg Spheres were unmistakable. Xel did not want to fire on an allied vessel, that also wasn't Federation.

All attempts to hail the friendly vessel failed as did the sequence to terminate the torpedo. The console proved utterly useless. The pretty lights and musical bleeps that all Federation personnel grew accustomed to were dark and silent. Only the dull tap of fingers on a nonresponsive board was heard.

And Xel could only watch as the torpedo, which was intended for one friendly vessel, was heading toward another.


	2. Chapter 2

Xel sat there and watched what appeared to be a battle. Being close enough to the Sphere, the opponent was out of sight. Xel knew it was a battle of sorts by the display of light, a few rocks and explosions.

The Sphere was about to be met with an unpleasant surprise as the fired torpedo was about to make contact from behind.

As it did, the whole of Xel's surroundings lit up. It was enough to squint the eyes and raise a hand. What debris there was melted and vaporized in the subspace reaction. A large gash resulted in the Sphere and the continued display of light between the vessel and its unseen opponent ceased. Both parties were clearly surprised.

Personal hatred and ridicule had started when that subspace torpedo gave the Sphere its surprise from behind. Attacking a friendly vessel was a crime with severe punishments, but Xel was already firing upon the Heracles only moments prior.

It took no time at all for the Sphere to turn, just a little, and speed off, jumping to warp not a second later.

That personal resentment Xel felt vanished once the Sphere had done so. Left behind were Starfleet looking space fighters and a Sovereign class starship. In the distance, there was a shuttlecraft being escorted by some of those fighters back toward the starship while another small swarm was heading in Xel's direction. The Peregrine Class fighter still refused to respond to commands. Powered down also meant no life-support but there was enough air and heat for a while longer. But that was not the prevalent thing weighing on Xel's mind.

Why were two allied ships fighting? That was the question that brought on all kinds of confusion and Xel knew the answer would be along shortly.

The few fighters sent to that location showed up and drifted around apparently taking in visuals and surface scans. Xel had completely forgotten about the manual polarization of the hull and that it was still in place. It kept anyone from getting full scans of the inside.

As soon as that realization produced itself, Xel decided it to perhaps be for the better until further information could be gathered. If two allied ships were fighting, then Xel could have been captured by the wrong side.

The Peregrine fighter lurched. The other fighters had it in tow with onboard tractor beams or the starship itself was doing the work. There was no way to tell and not even something as basic as a tricorder was working. That wormhole knocked everything out. Except for that torpedo. Being it was subspace, something was apparently protecting it from the wormhole's apparent EM effect.

Xel's ship was getting closer to the starship. The space fighters had broken off and were en route to their own landing sites. The ship itself now was doing the tractoring.

As the ship grew larger and larger, Xel could not help but to think it looked exactly like the Salasusa. Of course many ships were looking similar these days but this one had little to no difference at all. And then the letters making up 'SALASUSA' came into view and that lead to no end of puzzlement. Perhaps the debris Xel spotted was from the Salamander, then the fact produced itself that the ship was not even close to Bajor. Something, however, spotted on the outside of this Salasusa gave it away as, "Not my ship. What in the name of Borgutus is going on?"

Looking around, Xel felt everything was out of place. The universe somehow did not seem to notice or mind in the least.

The Peregrine fighter moved on around to a landing bay to which it slowly drifted toward. Everything else about the ship was straight out of Starfleet. Xel recognized the landing dock, and had landed on that very pad plenty of times. This time, the tractor beam was doing the landing.

Armed crew members were lining up in the bay. The ship's crew was even Starfleet regulation, but the uniforms were slightly different. Several, what appeared to be, security personnel were waiting. A pilot or two joined in. They had apparently heard about a small ship emerging from a wormhole or at least some space anomaly and wanted to get a first glance at the ship and its pilot. Still, if Xel was being captured by the wrong side, violence was going to ensue.

By itself, the ship started getting power. The wormhole's EM effect was wearing off. The tricorder Xel attempted earlier was even starting up, as did the phaser. There was no need for any of that now, since the ship was about to land. Only the phaser was to be of use and Xel put it away ready to be accessed at a second's notice.

There was a small thud as the ship was placed on the landing pad and one of the crew outside ordered the pilot to exit. Of the personnel there, only two were not human. They were recognized and registered races and all were Federation, but something about all this was dreadfully wrong.

Xel opened the hatchway and emerged from the ship. Phasers were drawn which gave pause. They had to have seen the Federation emblem on the craft as well as recognized the starfleet flight suit, with subtle changes of course.

"Move. Slowly," shouted a voice.

It sounded familiar, but through the helmet, Xel could not make much out beyond the simple order to move slowly.

Once both feet were on the deck, Xel just stood there. Then came the order to remove the helmet. That order was met with some hesitation and Xel saw the personnel ready on their phasers. But being outnumbered and outgunned, there was no other choice but to obey and hope for the best.

Slowly enough to keep this crew from creating their own light show, Xel unbuckled the helmet and lifted it away.

Already someone was scanning with a tricorder trying to affirm what everyone else was looking at, a Borg standing on their ship. A Borg not intending to kill them or declare resistance to be futile. Better yet, a Borg in Starfleet uniform.

There was no movement and nothing was said. The only noise was the deck door sliding open and a Klingon walking through. From that second to a few seconds after only instinct kicked in.

First and foremost, Xel drew her phaser and leveled it at the Klingon. Others started to move but Xel was already on step two, which was a pressing of the fire button leading to a red beam extending forward and connecting with the Klingon's chest. He was not yet even looking in her direction, so that was certainly a surprise. Step three was to run. Three other phasers were fired as Xel was already sprinting toward the back of her ship. She leaped into the air and grabbed onto a piece of the hull to bring her around into temporary safety. It at least gave her the time to plan her next move.

There were at least eight personnel about and far too many for her to take on. The Klingon went down easy but he did not seem to be expecting it at all. He was wearing a Federation uniform but that fact was suppressed for the moment. He was Klingon. Survival instincts were up to full.

Footsteps were heard as the personnel ran to and fro and got to various points for an attack.

"You shot our commander. He won't be happy with you when he wakes up."

Xel looked at her phaser and saw it was set to stun. She was about to set it to vaporize but glanced over as another personnel showed up. He was on the far side of the deck but visible. With a phaser in hand, he leveled it at Xel and she pressed against the back of her ship, limiting his view of her.

She then thought briefly on what she had gathered based on the last spoken words. The Klingon was the commander of this ship.

"Everyone, hold you fire," the crewmen yelled out. To her, "Throw down your arms and surrender." He paused and gave a quick laugh. "Resistance is futile."

Xel leaned forward a bit and finally made out the man on the far side. She first was only waiting for a beam of light from that phaser, but once she refocused her eyes on the man himself, she made out, "Dangremon Herschel," and that was under her breath. But it was mouthed enough for him to see her at least speak his name.

Something was wildly amiss. What was dead was alive once again. What was destroyed, made whole. What were friends (Federation and Borg) were now seemingly enemies. A lot of explanation was to be made, on both sides. This was a mass of confusion, far more than what she endured in the space above Bajor.

If the Federation and Borg were in fact enemies, then perhaps that Klingon she shot was an ally. Still, she could have been captured by the enemy. In either case, the crewman was right. She had no other course but to surrender. Resistance truly was futile.

She kept those green eyes of hers stuck on Dangremon. She saw only instinct and duty behind his eyes, the same she had always seen, except for a few occasions. She decided he probably was not even thinking of what lied behind her eyes, and if he saw anything, it was all on a subconscious level.

So she tossed her phaser away to the side. No other movement was heard, and no orders. They were definitely trained to know that many may carry multiple weapons, so she called out, "I'm coming out. I am unarmed."

With hands above her head, she slowly stepped out from behind her ship. All phasers were pointed in her direction and she was waiting for a shocking surprise. "I am Lt. Xelphia Arrackis. Tactical Officer for," she had to pause and stop herself before making things even more confusing, "Starfleet. I surrender."

Security crewman Darson took command of the situation. His first order of business was to seal the area. No further eyes were allowed in and no one was yet allowed to leave. There were no communications unless he authorized it. Communications were down throughout the ship anyway.

Xel didn't know exactly how much time had passed. Her internal chronograph worked perfectly fine but Xel was not in the mind to access its information. The emotional distress over being captured for the first time in her life as well as the wild differences in this place made her forget she had an internal chronograph.

They took all her gadgetry and ordered her out of her flight suit. They took notice of the suit and a couple of personnel mumbled about some of the visible differences. By the way some of the male personnel were eyeing her, once they were getting over the whole Borg on the ship idea, she felt her uniform and clothes were going to join those gadgets.

There was something in the way of gadgetry they were unable to take, however. It was all internal. Scans showed an array of circuits, organic conduits, sensors, and more spread throughout her body, as well as a metallic alloy grafted over her entire skeletal structure. The crewman scanning her looked back to the man currently in charge.

"Can you tell if it is dangerous?"

Xel tried to explain there was no harm, that her people's natural evolutionary advances were hampered during the time of assimilation. They had to make up for that disadvantage somehow.

Darson was finally satisfied after three separate tricorder scans all showed no signs of her being a ticking time-bomb, carrying some form of biologic agent, or in any way going to aid in the destruction of the ship and crew.

Things quieted down. Everyone was still except for Darson, pacing and seemingly trying to figure something out. He was clearly not the security chief, but was currently acting the part.

To break the ice that had formed, "I would like to speak with the captain."

"You would like that, wouldn't you? Borg," Darson called out. "Only behind a maximum level containment field will you speak with him."

"If that is what it takes..."

"Quiet. I want no more words from you."

"Darson," another crewman called out. He was kneeling beside the unconscious Klingon who was showing the first signs of waking up.

From what she was taught and had seen of Klingon brutality, Xel was thankful for the metallic skeleton, for her people's 'disadvantage.' He was clearly infuriated and he stood. The human that was tending to him sought to help him up, but the large beast pushed him away and got to his feet on his own. All could see his face pulse with anger and that his eyes were focused on one point, the Borg standing in the landing bay.

"If anyone even breaths one word of this Borg's presence to anyone not already in this room, you will die at my hand. You got that?"

There was a single, yet multitudinous, "Yes Sir," reverberating through the bay.

"Darson," yet those hate-filled eyes were burning holes into Xel, "McKinley. Get to the transporter room and do an emergency transport. We have enough power for that I belive. Relieve who is on duty and make sure they do not see what you are doing. Secure the log and disengage all containment protocol, lest the transporter redirect this thing directly into space."

He was lying about that. Or was he. Seeing the ship in one piece once again, seeing former friends suddenly becoming enemies, she concluded this to being a different universe altogether. Wormholes were so unpredictable. And she had no idea if the transporter could actually redirect her into space. Additionally, with this Klingon being in Starfleet uniform, perhaps he was an ally.

"Send this Borg to the brig. Anders, is there anyone in the brig?"

"Just the brig officer, Sir."

"Go relieve the brig officer and seal the room. Everyone remember, word of this and you die."

She was clearly captured by the enemy. A universe where the evil Federation was allied with the brutal Klingons meant a universe of terror. Xel had to find some avenue of escape and to reunite with her own kind.


	3. Chapter 3

A sensor in the top corner of the room was of course recording everything as it had been doing for days. Whoever was on the receiving end of the video feed was most likely promised death if the information was spread among the ship. She looked to it every few minutes constantly wondering who was on the other end. Herschel maybe? Captain Kelethan? If not the captain, then definitely someone the Klingon put there.

After being placed in her cell, the only sign of life she experienced was the replicator in her cell going off three times a day providing her with food and drink. It never responded to her requests.

About every other time she looked to the sensor, she asked for the captain. If this Kelethan was any way like the one she knew, then talking would not be a problem, but there were subtle differences in this place, starting with what she saw on the hull of the ship. Drastic differences included the Federation fighting the Borg and a Klingon commander. Most of all, this was the U.S.S. Salasusa, and not the I.S.S. Salasusa.

This could have been a mirror universe. If that was the case, Captain Kelethan could be an entirely different person than who she grew to obey and respect. Furthermore, was Frances Kelethan even the captain of this ship?

Xel had studied old logs about alternate universes, but had never experienced one first-hand or knew of anyone to witness such an event. She concluded that was exactly what happened to her. That wormhole traversed more than just space.

This was going to be quite a tale to tell her family, what little family she had, but the dilemma remained that getting back was going to be difficult if not impossible. Getting to where she ended up was an accident and accidentally getting back was up against the greatest of odds. Besides, she fired upon the Heracles, the admiral's ship. Despite the wormhole sucking the torpedo away and thus saving the ship, she would still face charges of treason. Punishment was death and the Federation would probably not stop there. They would go for her family in the process. That was probably what they were doing right then anyway.

She abandoned that thought pattern. It was getting dreadful. She turned to the Federation fighting the Borg. Were they still assimilating? That would answer why the personnel on the deck were taken aback by her presence and appearance. A natural and unassimilated Borg was common in her universe just like Klingons in the Federation were, perhaps, in this universe. And if that were the case, she would have a lot to get used to, as did everyone on the ship. Tumultuous times were definitely ahead.

She looked back at the sensor, still recording everything, except her thoughts, she hoped.

Xel could imagine whoever was watching was working the controls, zooming in and panning around. He was probably under the excuse of looking for contraband, but no doubt taking in every curve of her body. Of course the person on the other end was male. Of course he would go on report for using security equipment for voyeuristic pleasures.

Men. In whatever universe, they were exactly the same.

"I want to speak with the Captain of this ship," she said as she looked right at it once again.

Of course the captain had to skim reports and get some first-hand reporting out of the way. No captain would go into a situation without knowing all known details of said situation. Regardless of whatever danger they felt Xel could unleash, she was behind a level ten containment field. There really was nothing she could have done.

Not much time had passed before she heard a harsh male voice outside the sliding doors separating the brig cells from the brig office.

"I don't care what you may hear," that voice said. "Tell no one."

What came through the door was not exactly what she expected. The man was rough looking, had the composure and appearance of a drunkard. Though she saw something of her captain in him, she saw so much more, and so much less. She eyed him up and down, perhaps giving him something of a perverted flatter, then sat back as he entered the brig and sat at a desk. From the desk, the person on duty could turn to see all brig occupants.

The look was different, but this was Captain Kelethan. She knew it.

Their eyes finally met and she could feel something else stirring about this situation. It went further than her being a Borg. He wanted to know the coincidence of her arrival, in a Federation vessel no less, during a skirmish between Federation and Borg ships. There was more to it than that though. Xel could see she arrived in the middle of something big.

The captain sighed, leaned back in his seat, then stood. He strode over and in front of Xel. He looked at her and studied what he saw in greater detail.

"Yep. I heard it correctly. I have a Borg wearing a Federation uniform in my brig." He pulled a flask from his pocket, already screwing the top off with one hand. After taking a quick swig of its contents, he flipped the top back and single-handedly rescrewed it while replacing it in his pocket. "I am Captain Frances Kelethan of the USS Salasusa. Now, just who the hell are you and where did you come from?"

Xel watched him with intense interest. Much of this man was different than from the Captain Kelethan she knew, but much was also the same, especially his straight-forwardness and his little violations of the uniform code. Taken, of course, that possession of alcohol while in uniform was against Federation code in this universe.

But she had studied and taken in enough. The man before her had questions and wanted answers. Xel decided to answer all his questions and to even make up some details should the need arise.

If there was to be any familiar ground here, this ship was the best she could hope for. She already knew some of the personnel, their names at least. And she was in no position to hold anything back, to lie, because she was going to need allies. If the Federation here was just as evil as what she unwillingly served, then this alliance would be short-lived.

The first of his questions was the who and the where. She had already taken care of the who but he wanted to hear it for himself. Perhaps wanting to make sure she stuck to the same story.

"I am Xelphia Arrackis. I was born on the Borg homeworld but raised on Earth, eventually entering Starfleet. My rank is Lieutenant. I have served aboard the...Salasusa as Tactical officer and security head."

Kelethan scoffed and ran his hand up to the bridge of his nose, rubbing and massaging as though trying to relieve a headache.

"Your ship, subspace torpedo, wormhole?"

"It's a Peregrine class fighter. I am trained to fly them. My torpedo...well, the Federation has stockpiles of subspace weapons. And the wormhole, it just showed up and sucked me in. I couldn't get any scans. Before or during my way through."

"Well we did. Our sensors are running constantly, even during a skirmish as what you saw. My science officer tells me that the wormhole ceased to exist only a little ways in. After some calculations, theory, and other Vulcan mumbo jumbo, he finally told me his findings...that there is no way to know where or even when that wormhole ended up."

A vulcan who calculates and dwells in theory? That was exactly how the Romulans acted as she recalled. The Vulcans were violent barbarians, the only ones who willingly allied themselves with the Federation.

"I can only assume...sir...that I have ended up in a mirror universe. Almost everything here is opposite than from what I have experienced all my life. I heard the stardate mentioned on the deck before I was beamed here. The time is the same."

Captain Kelethan leaned his head back and sighed. He rubbed his temples and turned. "Mirror universe. Friendly Borg. Why me?"

Xel stood from her bunk and stepped forward, stopping half-way between the bunk and the opening to the cell. "Please Captain, if you will, tell your Klingon I am sorry. Klingons are bitter enemies where I am from. I was acting on instinct."

"Well they are allies to the Federation here, though we don't have too many of them serving. As for the Borg, we have a severe shortage of allies there. Actually, they are all enemies. Assimilating, mindless drones, trying to take whatever they get their greasy little..."

Xel slumped, almost fell to the floor. "So it is true."

The captain ceased his words and focused his attention on her.

She sat back on the bunk. "The Borg I am familiar with have not assimilated in over a century. Here..."

"...You are back to your old ways."

Xel managed a single nod, but no words.

Captain Kelethan slowly stepped back up to the containment field. "We have been at war with the Borg since first contact. They invade our space and we barely manage to fend them off. They go for Earth and we scrape by. Admiral Janeway did manage to cripple them a bit by killing the queen and destroying the hub leading to our quadrant. Still, the Borg are resilient. They will not stop. And I think you can ill afford to regard them as allies here."

The captain paused a bit to let all that sink in. Xel knew it and was thankful. Her thoughts and emotions were nearing the unraveling point. Everything she knew was wrong in this universe. It seemed too much to handle. Hearing it impossible to get back to her rightful realm was probably all she needed to go overboard with her feelings.

Those feelings mixed almost like a soup. She felt like crying, seething in anger, relief maybe since she was no longer in the hands of the evil Federation. A whole universe of weight was placed on her shoulders.

If given the chance to go back, she was unsure if it was even desirable, she found herself hating the place so much. This universe offered her a new start.

However...

"If what you say is true, being from a mirror universe, then you are the only of your kind that you will ever encounter here."

Xel closed her eyes, trying to hold back her emotions. Adrenaline started flowing. It was something the Borg had trouble dealing with without intense physical activity to spend it all. The Borg, her Borg, were unable to reabsorb all the adrenaline inserted into their blood. She rocked softly and breathed, trying to contain herself.

Of course he was right. That point was obvious. Just like the other captain, this Kelethan liked to make sure the obvious details were well understood.

"Finding acceptability here will take time, if it is to be found at all."

Xel had a hard enough time finding that very same thing in her reality. Even proving herself to her own kind was dutiful, being among the few to leave the homeworld, even fewer to enter Starfleet, and the first female to serve. Nothing was good enough for anyone. Borg elders even scoffed at her.

She did find friends and something of a family aboard the Salasusa, the one that was destroyed. And now Xel knew she was going to have to do it all over again. This time, it was on a universal level. Was asking for a quick death too much? Would he oblige?

She tried envisioning pleasant thoughts. The time her and her family went swimming in Black Creek in her home of Florence in South Carolina came to mind She worked hard to keep from unraveling entirely. She was close though. It felt like the next bit of dreadful and obvious news was going to be the last bit of fuel needed to set an emotional fire ablaze.

"So I guess you will have to start on this ship."

Her emotions calmed greatly. With her eyes red from hot tears and her nostrils flaring, she looked up at the captain. There was no end to her puzzlement.

"What?"

"Fortunately for you, our mission will keep us outside Federation jurisdiction and contact for some time. No communication with Earth unless absolutely necessary. Then we will have to spend a few days just to get within range. It is highly doubtful we will encounter any other Federation ships out here. Furthermore, I just lost my Tactical Officer slash Head of Security. Not to mention a handful of other officers and crewmen."

Xel slowly got to her feet and rubbed her face.

The captain was simply looking back at her. His expression looked like one thinking himself foolish, trying to convince himself this was a good idea, that there was no danger.

She looked down, helpless, unsure if this was real or a ruse. "I will report all of my comings and goings daily."

"Our computer can do that for us."

Xel saw his suspicion. She did not even need to see it in his face to know of it presence. What he needed was something to set his mind at ease.

"It may have been a mirror ship and perhaps even a mirror captain," though this Kelethan seemed exactly the same thus far, "but my allegiance has always been to my ship and my captain. I served aboard the Salasusa commanded by Captain Kelethan. Just give me the chance to prove myself."

"You don't want to hear it, but every moment for now on will be chances to prove yourself. People hate the Borg hear. No matter your situation and story, you are Borg. One wrong move and trust..." He made a gesture as though throwing an item away.

"I understand captain."

"You may think me foolish. Hell, I am thinking it right now. But we need all the help we can get out here. We are alone. A long way from home. Our mission is the Borg. Just lost some of my crew. We have a tremendous mystery on board in addition to you. But, you are wearing a Starfleet uniform. That gives me some relief."

Those words and the manner in which he spoke seemed almost exactly like her previous captain. Xel smiled shortly.

"We're examining some of the files contained within your ship. My CAW, Lt. Herschel is looking them over and giving me regular updates."

Xel's gut almost wrenched fearing them finding the sensor footage of her firing on another Federation vessel.

"Personnel records, service records, the like. Your story seems true enough. I will not issue you a weapon or any kind of security clearance until I deem it safe and you trustworthy. For now, aside from what experience you may have with the duties I will assign you, your worth comes from your knowledge of the Borg. Our mission out here deals with them. Observe and catalog Borg movements, where they have been, where they are going. Inhabitable planets, claimed and unclaimed. Who knows, they may attempt to take one. As long as you can aid our mission, help us fend off any attacks, gain a tactical advantage, even destroy a Borg vessel if needed, then you will be of use."

She decided to trust this man. There was little other choice, but something she had seen let her theorize her safety. She had nothing to worry about. She was in good hands.

"Please tell me I am safe here. Aboard this ship at least. I'll believe you if you tell me I am in good hands. Seeing two allies suddenly fighting each other, one being my own race and the other being the organization I swore allegiance to, I have no idea whether you are friend or foe. But something tells me I can trust you as I trusted the other Captain Kelethan."

Kelethan narrowed his eyes on the woman. He was still unsure to what extent he could trust her, if any. "I can not guarantee you anything. The Borg are one of our most feared and hated enemies. In fact, we are one of the first ships dispatched to deal directly with the Borg threat." His emphasis on the last word was voluntary and strong.

"You'll have to remain in here until I can trust that you weren't sent here by the Borg sphere that we just encountered. I'm not sure how long that will take, but I do know that you could decrease it rapidly by giving me some information."

She had to backtrack a bit with, "Borg threat. That is a new one on me. Unheard of in my experience. I grew up under the threat of the DKR...the Dominion/Klingon/Romulan Alliance. From the little time I have been here, it seems the Klingons are not much of a threat to you," but her own race certainly seemed to have been. They were assimilating, dominating, without hesitation and without mercy. "And the Borg...it seems the Borg are a collective. A single mind. No individuality." Those were words her kind were trying hard to forget. "Mindless." They had a past they were attempting to leave behind and it brought no end to dread that she was thrown into a place where she suddenly became the only of her kind...in the universe.

Her eyes had left Kelethan's long ago and slowly moved to the floor, then seemingly to space itself. Her throat gripped itself and her eyes watered up. Her captain was the only she had ever cried in front of. The man before her was Kelethan, a different Kelethan, one who was quickly showing his impatience when it came to emotions and the like. Xel did what she could to hold back what was to come. This Kelethan had made an offer and she was wanting to do all she could.

What started as a nod became, "I'll answer whatever questions you have to the best of my knowledge."

"What do you know about 085?"

Xel's eyes darted around. It was the easiest question to answer but the most obvious answer was also the most sarcastic. Sure it was a number and Kelethan knew that as much as she did. This 085 was something else. It sounded like, "an experiment I guess. I've never heard of it to tell the truth, but if I had to guess, there would be 84 experiments before it, possibly failures, or possibly still running. I really do not know anything else."

Those last words came out as something of a pleading, like an interrogated would sound to an interrogator. She did not want to think that word, nor 'torture' but those thoughts surfaced anyway and it was all she could do to hope for the best.

"Do you happen to have any Tactical awareness on spheres and cubes and all the other shapes the borg may throw at us?"

Xel got a sense of harmlessness from him. Stern and intensely desiring of what he wanted, just like her captain, but harmless all the same. Her fears of what lied in store for her were mitigating. She gave a quick smile followed by an equally quick nod. "Yes. I served on a Sphere before transferring to Starfleet. If the Sphere you were fighting is no different than what I am accustomed to, then I know those things pretty well. Weak spots. I can even destroy one with only three subspace torpedoes."

"We don't have those things here."

"If you have not trashed the three still unlaunched in my fighter then you do."

"They are illegal in this universe. Banned by the Federation."

"We are outside Federation jurisdiction. You said so yourself."

Kelethan took a deep breath and smoothed his uniform. "Maybe there is a use for you after all. It just so happens we could use some help at Tactical. Seeing how I just lost Lieutenant O'Malley."

She saw another similarity in him, his trust in a complete stranger. Captain Kelethan was always one for that kind of risk and had always judged correctly. Xel knew there was no way she could let this Kelethan know he was judging correctly. She had to show him through loyalty and continued loyalty over time.

"I am taking a risk, but I see no reason not to believe your story. What do you say Lieutenant?"

Xel gave a nasal laugh and smiled at what was quickly becoming her Captain. She nodded and finally gave her response, "Yes. Yes, sir. Looks like I'm you girl sir." She stood straight and saluted him. "I'll not let you down."

Xel then saw a set of eyes heavily scanning her. She suddenly turned bright with excitement just like an ensign straight out of the academy. The captain groaned.

"I have an assignment for you. As we work on repairs, I want you to investigate this 085 and find out why the Borg are interested in it. They are also apparently afraid of it."

And already she was busy. Talk about hitting the ground running. This was a perfect stranger, from an alternate universe, of an enemy race, that very few knew was even on board the ship, suddenly becoming a ranking officer, heading her area of expertise, and hitting the ground in what seemed to be a full sprint. She had as good a guess as any on the 085 issue, perhaps the best educated guess that Kelethan had heard. And she was given the duty to investigate further.

"I'll certainly give it my all."

He grumbled some indiscernible reply and turned toward the brig desk.

"Captain," she blurted out as he was nearing the desk, "I would like to ask two things of you before we get started." She was already talking to him as she was used to speaking to the Kelethan she grew to know and trust. "I want to apologize to the Klingon myself if that is alright."

Kelethan chuckled in response and made a pointing gesture. "You go right ahead. Our doctor will be standing by to put you back together."

It seemed the Klingons were the same in this universe too. Still brutes. From the captain's tone, them being allies to the Federation did not mean much for her own safety should she attempt to face him herself.

"And I am still concerned about my own safety," she continued. "You will quickly see that I can take care of myself but in front of a shipful of people (worse case scenario that is) I would not. My kind is not very much liked in the universe I see, though I can not be sure I consider them, my kind. We're Borg all the same. But I would like for you to do a shipwide announcement informing everyone of my presence and position. Almost no one knows I am even onboard. A Borg suddenly walking around on the ship, someone may have the same reaction I did when I saw the Klingon. Pull a phaser and shoot me, Lee Oswald style."

His face contorted with confusion. His eyes demanded answers.

"You know, Lee Oswald. The guy who shot Jack Leon Ruby because he supposedly shot President Johnson." Then those eyes gave her all the realization she needed. Things did not go down in this universe exactly as she had remembered them. So who shot whom?

It was going to be something she would search and study up on later.

Kelethan was standing there, slightly amused. He had no remarks as Xel tried to remember, almost everything was opposite. He only turned and, before walking to the door to exit, tapped on the computer terminal on the brig desk.

The containment field flashed and vanished. Xel of course looked both ways before stepping out, despite the presence of no one else in the brig.

Exiting the room, Captain Kelethan went to a corridor computer terminal for his shipwide announcement. Xel was close behind him.

Entering the corridor, she stepped up to the captain's left side. A person in Starfleet uniform was down a ways and stopped with amazement upon setting eyes upon this new shipmate. Seeing her with the captain without any hostility between the two, he continued whatever he was doing. This was weird to him. But being in Starfleet, there was little end to occurence of wierd in their experience.

Kelethan rubbed his temple again, then tapped a little bit on the terminal. "I'll see what I can do."

"Again, thank you sir. I should go get fitted for a uniform then. Mine looks a little more sinister than what you have here."

"Agreed. I'll call you an escort for the time being. For your own safety of course."


	4. Chapter 4

Xel was at her post and somewhat before schedule. Thomas Darson was on his shift and she purposefully set hers directly after his to arrive early and get a feel for the similar yet still different console. She was his superior officer yet he was going to be her teacher. Thomas was hesitant at first but carried out those orders.

He had finally broken himself from looking in the direction of the captain, the Klingon second in command or to whoever else was in command, awaiting confirmation to proceed. Whoever that was, would only hesitantly carry out Captain Kelethan's orders and tell Darson to do as she said. Captain's orders.

Hesitation, and resentment; those were two things Xel was already feeling from some of the crew as her first days on board the ship ticked away. She had a clear idea of how much the Borg were disliked. She stayed up all night her first night, studying all she could about the Borg. Her studies fell mostly on logs written by Captains Picard and Janeway (now Admiral Janeway) and even picked up information about a human that served aboard the Voyager that was deassimilated.

That individual was the closest Xel would ever come to meeting someone that even felt the slightest bit the way she did. But Xel was a Borg, not assimilated then had the process reversed. She was born and raised Borg and that concept was one of discussion since much of the crew still could not believe their eyes and ears despite the living proof that was standing before them. Xel felt something like an attraction at a variety show.

That was how her life was going to be. That was how life was for her upon entering Starfleet the first time around and that was how life was going to be aboard the USS Salasusa. Sooner or later, her challenge would expand to the Federation and then on to universal proportions.

And that thought alone kept her mind from fully staying in the now. She was an hour into her shift. Thom had departed a short time ago and left her to her duties. He did not even ask if she understood or had any questions. She was expected to failed. The same situation as before. The once and again Captain Kelethan was sitting around doing some captainy things. Xel was glad he was not giving out orders and that they were not engaged in some drill or real world excitement, otherwise he would have been yelling at her or kicking her off the bridge for her somewhat inexperience with the controls.

Things were labled different, contained within different menus and submenus. This was the Tactical station but it was laid out different. It took time to unlearn what she knew and learn something new but the calm and uneventful day proved adequate in shortening this learning curve. Xel was getting the hand of this new terminal.

A display at her station showed a technical manual that she studied intently. She would also, at times, just stare at the words and her thoughts would drift away.

How were things going in her universe? Did it even exist at this time? Could she get back as though she had never left? Was the Imperial Federation going after her family? Was the DKR Triad successful in defeating the Federation? So many unanswered questions and no way to make them become answered.

Every now and then, a light would flash or a bleep would sound and she would snap back to it, continuing her duties. But her mind would revert, just as fast, back to her troubles and the challenges ahead. She had to get to know the ship's crew, but more importantly, her crew, the security and tactical personnel beneath her. They were a team and a team with a leader they did not trust or even know for that matter. Xel would have to work on them first.

Do a formal introduction. Tell them everything about herself and let them ask their questions, no matter how accusing, demeaning, racist, or hurtful. They were only questions, filled with words. Stick and stones. But she had a metallic graft over her skeleton. Her bones were fully protected. Still, she needed to diffuse any resentment, alter opinions, calm the nerves and anxiety.

She did find some amazement when she met with Soldat for the first time. She divulged her experiences during the battle of Bajor trying to determine exactly how she arrived in this universe. Vulcans were the personnel of choice when it came to science so she was going to leave it with him. Her amazement however was Soldat himself. His manner, method of speech, total lack of emotion. She tried to hide it, but was astonished almost each time he looked at her or spoke. It was the Romulans who were the unemotional, logic, and scientific minds in her universe.

Aside from that, the ship was going to get very small and very fast. Two men, one she avoided and one she resented, were both alive and well.

Gerhard Terrell was the one she avoided, at least, in her reality. He operated out of Starfleet and was seldom on the ship. This one was the same, but was assigned to the Salasusa for a reason that even Captain Kelethan himself did not seem to know. The man looked the same and acted something similar and she simply maintained her knack for avoiding the man.

Xel went out of her way to take another corridor, to shield her eyes or storm past as though late for a meeting or having to tend to a matter of utmost importance. Of course this Terrell was completely in the dark about her reasons why. The Terrell she knew, the dead Terrell, knew exactly why.

The other was of course Dangremon Herschel. Consulting her internal chronograph, Xel realized it was almost exactly two weeks since that day on the Lookout. This Herschel would certainly know nothing about it at all. She did have a refreshing thought that perhaps he was one of the opposites that she had encountered thusfar while on board, but she could not bring herself to fully believe it. They would certainly talk at some point. In the mean time though, she would stick to her studies and learn all she could about this place.

Xel was not in the mood to seek out the two men and deal with these unsettled relationships they had no idea even existed. But sooner or later, the ship would get a little too small and one or both would show up almost everywhere.

Her shift ended. The hours went away without incident. The Klingon was in command as she departed. In the waning hours they only shared brief glances but no words. Each time, he looked on the verge of murdering her. She wanted to apologize for shooting him, but this was not the place or the time.

Returning to her quarters, Xel resumed her studies into Starfleet regulation, technical manuals for the universe's Sovereign Class starships, and of course the 085 issue.


	5. Chapter 5

Xel was given access to all of Liam O'Malley's logs. Learning all she could of this ship's previous security officer could probably shed some light onto 085. Strange events started on the Salasusa soon after they encountered a derelict ship. That must have been where this 085 came from. She decided to start there.

"Captain has a headache. Unsure from what. I know that feeling all too well however. That throbbing demon just will not stop knocking on the inside of the skull until it dies.

"They say that's the Paddy's Cure. Sometimes it is what brings on such aches and pains. I'm still hurting from that bar fight in Bray, just before leaving.

"I wasn't on duty yet. I was out of uniform. No laws were broken. I still feel the effects though.

"Something in me is glad all the drinks on this ship are synthetic. Still, what is causing Cap's headaches? Does he have a flask stowed away somewhere? Can I get away with doing the same?

"On to the task at hand.

"Considering the captain's state and despite my Irish upbringing, I am going to do as the man says. He told me to get Herschel to reassign a fighter pilot to the shuttle and I did just that. I can pilot the thing. All officers can. I guess he wanted me on top of my game.

"This derelict ship could have been an ambush. Scans showed no signs of life and no power signatures. It did prove to be an abandoned ship. The Irishman in me told me to be ready for a fight nonetheless.

"Herschel had his pilots flying and patrolling, just in case the derelict sprung to life or if some other ship decided to show.

"The one he reassigned to the shuttle did not seem all too enthused about it. He told me himself he preferred to be out there in his fighter. Something about the thrill of it all, even if nothing happens.

"Just like me at a bar. I try to pick a fight but sometimes it just does not happen. Thrilling all the same.

"I thanked our pilot however. And offered to get him a drink, though they are free...and synthetic.

"The shuttle had a full complement. Everyone on the team I put together was all suited up. This being my first away mission, I wanted everything to be right, so I checked everyone before we even boarded the shuttle.

"Holodeck exercises also made everyone better prepared. Though we certainly did not expect this kind of excitement this soon into our mission. I was, however, confident that my team would prove adequate. And I was right.

"The derelict was scanned again during the shuttle approach. I did the scan myself despite the multiple scans already performed. I scanned every detail and viewed results indicating nothing more than what one would expect in a derelict ship. The only signs of life were general airborne microbes we breathe every day. The ones that could survive that environment.

"Being derelict, the ship had apparently floated adrift long enough for the interior temperature to nearly match the exterior. In short, the ship was cold.

"Our initial search of the ship was done as though a space-walk. Even the artificial gravity was out. Nothing else out of the ordinary was found. With approval from the captain, I ordered a reactivation of the ship. A look-over by our chief engineer resulted with a clean bill of health. Outside of normal wear and tear, the ship is in good shape. Just in a deep freeze.

"I took two engineers with me on this mission. Of course one went to engineering where he reported nothing wrong with the ship. The other asked what his purpose was.

"Oh, to be young and inexperienced again.

"I explained to him the numerous logs I have read in my time where an engineer was in engineering and needed someone to perform a duty on the bridge or elsewhere at a precise second. That someone normally wished they were an engineer at that moment. That was why I asked for two.

"Besides, my guys were too busy securing the ship. Easy enough job as it turned out. There was nothing there. I summed up my entire report to the captain with those words.

"My guys reported in at random intervals declaring their sections clear. In a few hours time, we had the entire ship secure. No one mentioned anything out of the ordinary aside from a perfectly good ship, floating adrift.

"There were no dead bodies, no animals or pets. There were frozen and brittle plants spread about, but nothing that gave even a hint as to why the derelict ship was derelict.

"All escape pods were visually accounted for and there was a shuttle in the bay. Logs indicated that whoever left the ship left via teleporter. The ship was set to an automatic shutdown only seconds after the last teleporter use. This was all purposefully done.

"I gave a verbal report to the captain.

"Carrying on, the life support was finally up to par for human survival and our tricorders reported the air to be breathable. I was the first to remove my helmet. The air was stale, but I did not pass out.

"Designating the senior engineer on the ship as 'Chief', I reminded him to power up life support and the computer only. Other systems could remain down. Who knows, and I still do not know, they could have activated self destruct before leaving. Turning on all systems could have reactivated it.

"As the air warmed more and the light throughout the ship brightened, I looked around my immediate surroundings. I had a feeling. Not one of fear or dread, but of puzzlement. Just one of those feelings.

"Mr. Bartol, do you know what a Gulag is?" I asked Torm.

"I am certainly you have a better explanation than what I can come up with, Sir" he said.

I explained to him that it was an old Soviet word for 'labor camp', a place that was wretched and cold. People were sent there to be forgotten and eventually die. The word took on a new meaning over the years. It meant the casting out of someone into a wasteland to never be seen or heard from again.

"Sir," he said, "you are spooking me out a little."

"A big man like that getting spooked? I guess everyone has their little weaknesses.

"Still, Torm did have a point. This ship could have been cast out to be forgotten. It or something in it. If that is the case, do we really want to know?

"The temporary chief spoke over the comms informing me that the computer's last dated entry was nearly ten years ago. This model of freight craft has been obsolete for about eight years so that sounds reasonable.

"I can only assume whatever is on this ship must be dead. It has been a long time, scans show nothing out of the ordinary, and no one is showing any signs of abnormal behavior.

"Once we discovered an approximate timeframe, I ordered the pilot to do another scan and search for anything that had changed, anything that we were clearly not responsible for.

"Torm Bartol and I continued forth, combing the ship for anything. We searched and searched and sometimes researched. Nothing.

"End of log.


	6. Chapter 6

"The first complete visual sweep of the ship since the lights were taken to full luminosity was almost complete. The engineers reported in regularly with updates that only added to my curiosity. The systems they put online were running at optimal performance and all other systems could operate just as well. The ship is perfectly fine, as previously noted, considering the years it had on it. Sensor logs were looked into and they found nothing out of the ordinary, except for the teleportation of everyone off the ship. I can only conclude a possible kidnapping by the Romulans or rebel Klingons still sore from the Klingon Civil War.

"I could hear it in the pilot's voice that he was impatient and sore from having to sit on the shuttle and perform regular scans of the ship over flying around in his star fighter. Of course the third set of fighters were out and about by now, while others were back on the ship resting and relaxing. He could have been with them. Still, all the other pilots were getting their first time out and this pilot was simply sitting there, possibly going to be the butt of many jokes in the future. He did hide his resentment well, but I still picked it up. His reports were just as clean as the engineers'. Scans did produce differing results as the temperature rose and as time passed. Some airborne microbes hanging in the air came back to life but it was nothing humans should have to worry about.

"He did pick up odd readings from various points in the ship and only at one point at a time. It seemed to have been an anomaly that was jumping around or vanishing only to reappear somewhere else. The engineers theorized and I concurred that it was only the ship settling, expanding in places as the heating was engaging in certain areas. Microbes were perhaps springing to life then spreading outward, dispersing and thus vanishing according to scans.

"Going back to my theory of a kidnapping of the crew, I'm taking into consideration their position. It was even possible for the Borg to have taken the crew, but the Borg would normally take the ship as well for technological assimilation. And the ship's condition shows no signs of struggle.

"My only response to that, when I thought it, was, "The ship is probably just too old. What do you think?" I looked to Torm Bartol, the man that had been beside me since we paired off.

"All the man said was, "The ship is probably just too old." He never was one for words.

"He did manage a futile attempt at my accent however. Possibly wearing off onto him a little. Accents have a way of doing that.

I spoke up as though we had been carrying on that conversation all along. "Just don't impersonate the commander. Got it?" I said. "He won't enjoy that too well. And certainly not the LC. In my opinion, Dor'Kon would eat your heart."

"Don't impersonate the commander. Got it. And Dor'Kon would eat my heart," again with a precise Irish accent.

I looked the taller man in the eyes. "And right now, not me, because I just may kick your arse. Got it?"

"Got it."

"I flinched at him with that last two-word utterance that was still spoken like a true Irishman. I was not really going to fight him. Torm then resorted to nodding. I was at least appreciative of that. The 'If you don't have anything good to say' saying also spills over to mimics. If you can't saying without sounding like a complete jack-arse, then it is better not said. I was just about to vocalize that point when another pair of crewmen showed up.

"Sir, I the ship has been visually combed, though I do think there may be something crawling around in the walls," he said.

So I asked what he thought it was.

"Well sir, it sounds kind of like a big bug crawling on metal. Like that!" he turned and pointed down the corridor as the noise arose.

"It did sound something like an animal of sorts crawling along metal, but it also could have been just the ship settling. Pipes. Conduits. Heat finally reaching them after so many years. They were expanding.

"Still, the ensign wanted to investigate. Just to make sure.

I admit I was about to lose a little patience. I was not really in the mood to crawl all through the ship looking for something that probably did not even exist. And I was about to mention that point was about to be vocalized when...

"Alien insects are known to withstand the cold vacuum of space. And for long durations," he said.

"Point noted. So I ordered everyone to proceed to investigation all noises and creaks and got the pilot to scan for any form of insectoid life.

"Chief informed me that it could take days for the ship to settle entirely, before we could determine additional creaks to being more than simple creaks.

"In the mean time, while keeping our ears open for any crawling, I ordered the discovery of the quarters of the ship's heads. Captain, engineer, second in command, etc. We needed to access logs to see if anytying could be discovered as to why this ship was abandoned thus.

"Before spreading out again, I traded ensigns. Torm was getting on my nerves with that Irish mimicking.

"I held back a moment as Torm and Tex started down the corridor. They started a conversation.

"I ain't sure about this. What do you think happened here?" asked Tex.

"I ain't sure about what happened here." Torm sounded Southern then, perhaps still being the jokester.

"Torm's shenanigans would be dealt with later, in private. I was not yet ready to hand out any disciplinary reports. My men needed to show fearlessness in all situations, but also not be too relaxed, or decide to joke and play games while on away missions.

"The bridge proved no better source for information. The computer was online but all records appeared to have been purged. The only logs left behind were the automatic sensor logs that stopped so long ago once the ship was shut down. The crew I ordered to find the officers' quarters all reported the same. It was as if the ship was reformatted, ready to be used like new, only it was decades old.

"I opened a comms channel back to the Salasusa, to the captian. I updated him on the situation. Just as our scans showed, there were no signs of life, no signs of struggle, no bodies, and no logs in the computers. We determined that all who were on board were teleported off, but we do not know exactly when or where or who did the teleporting. As for the ship itself, it is in fine shape. The engineers concluded that it can be powered up.

"The chief broke in with his two cents. Seeing as how the ship was not properly shut down, the 'power cord' was simply pulled, and sudden cooling created bubbles of anti-oxygen in the anti-matter containment. Similar to regular oxygen, it can combust under pressure and heat. In other words, we needed to hand-crank the ship like the first automobiles of earth that needed the operator to hand-crank the engine.

"Of course Captain Kelethan desired not to spend any more time with this ship than necessary. We could leave word and a another Federation ship could take it from here. He gave me another hour to search then to get back to the Salasusa.

"So we wrapped up. Further scans showed nothing. Sifting through what remained of logs illustrated nothing. My temporary chief started shutting everything down. We prepared for departure.

"End of log.


	7. Chapter 7

Repairs were still going on. Duties and responsibilities were redistributed among the remaining personnel. The Salsusa was only several days into its mission and already an altercation with the Borg, already some dead personnel, but the casualties were light. Not all casualties are fatalities however. One crewman in particular was confined to quarters. His mind was still reeling from something he saw. Xel would speak with him once her current task was completed.

Everything that could have been gathered was gathered about Torm Bartol. He continued to mimc others in his vicinity. No one knew and scans showed nothing regarding something returning with them from the derelict ship. The doctor concluded some kind of virus. There was no name until Liam O'Malley, for whatever strange reason, stole a shuttle and attempted to get himself to the Borg Sphere. The Borg, in their collective voice, said one thing before speeding off, "085." That and the addition of Xel's sub-space torpedo was the reson for the Borg's speedy departure.

In the days the followed, while Xel was in the brige, they found Torm Bartol's body in his quarters. His remains were not as devasted as Liam's and it was gathered that he had a higher resistance to 085 and was also less exposed. Liam must have had a greater exposure to explain what happened to him.

It was approved and Xel overlooked the placement of Torm's remains into a torpedo-like coffin. Torm's remains were then taken to a cargo hold where what remained of a few pilots were also stored. The crew was planning a burial in space but wanted to gather all their dead before-hand. A space funeral would certainly encompass the majority of the ship's crew. Being pilot's and security personnel had died, both Dangremon and Xel were required to say some words. She did not even know the crew beneath her. But the head of security had that duty.

The last of the dead to be gathered was Liam O'Malley, still on the untouched shuttle. Xel sent security personnel down to take another set of scans. She also asked some science personnel and medical crew for additional insight. She, in turn, ventured the cooridors to the quarantined crewman. He was explosed but showed no signs of minimcking those around him, no signs of 085 infection. His quarantine was for his protection. He suddenly did not like people around him.

"I heard about you," he said as he let her in. The room was dark and he was quick to retreat to the middle of the room as Xel entered. "Borg on the ship. New security head and Tactical Officer." He looked around, rubbed his hands together.

Upon setting eyes upon him Xel guessed him to be perfectly fine, at least physically. She read the report of how he got to where he was and knew that anyone witnessing such a sight would not be perfectly fine, in the head that is. But she asked him to describe it all. She wanted to hear it for herself.

But she first had to tell him some things. Something about having a Borg for a boss was unsettling to him. She did what she could to gain his trust then had to pull rank. Time was always precious during an investigation.

"Well we went to Sick Bay." Xel and the crewman were sitting across from each other. "We all thought Liam was dead. We found him in Torm's quarters. Torm was dead and Liam appeared so. As soon as we discussed the possibility of infection, something from the derelict, the doctor activated the EMH so he could keep his distance. Liam's heart stopped it seemed and the EMH shot him with adrenaline. That sprung him wide awake. Almost instantly, he and I were off toward a shuttle. The doctor protested but Liam would hear it later. The Borg were arriving. Battle stations. He wanted to get to the Sphere. He seemed a little crazed. I didn't question him though. In the past few days we all learned to trust him and not question his ways. Those Irishman almost always have something up their sleeve. But it seem all futile once we were on the shuttle and leaving the Salasusa. One small unarmed shuttle against a Sphere. It was suicide. I was already panic stricken, though I must admit, a Borg ship that was constantly shooting and missing us was questionable and easing my panic. But then came that explosion from behind which lead to the Sphere's retreat. O'Malley got pissed off. 'Damn it' he said, but he did not sound entirely Irish there. His voice was strange but I really did not have the time to care about that. He turned and faced me. An evil look on his face. His skin was...looking different. 'I'm hungry' he said and all I could think of was all those zombie movies I used to watch as a kid. Even the comedy ones where the protagonist points to a store of food. Well, I pointed him to the replicator. 'There's all the food you could ever want,' but he continued a slow approach toward me. He brought that hand of his up and simply brushed my cheek. I was already up against the wall at the back of the shuttle and could not retreat any further. The simple brush left me all tingly. A sudden rush of panic went to my heart and my nerves all jumped at once and I pushed him back. Though safe from him, I was shaking all over in a cold sweat. O'Malley joined me by beginning a shake himself. He was something of a jokester so I thought he was mocking me with his take on the Cold Sweat Dance, but what started as simple shakes went to a thrashing about. He yelled and screamed and then...then...blood was sprinkling from his finger tips. His thrashing hands sending it in all directions. His eyes bulged and emerged from the sockets and then were followed by more blood and matter that had no business on the outside of the body. Liam was then on the floor, thrashing wildly and trying to scream through his esophagus that was forcing its way out through his mouth. The back seat of his pants became filled with more than what was supposed to emerge from there. His body swelled and split in areas. His uniform tore and the parts of the man that had never seen light were getting their fill. Then it all stopped."

The crewman was on the verge of sobbing. He was stuttering out that last spoken word attempting to stand but Xel brought up a hand to stop him.

"Well, after all that, I saw that I was covered in...I panicked. Not only did I have this cold sweat shiver through me, but my nerves were all tingling and...I just could not take it anymore. I sent a distress signal and before the comms were open I was already yelling at the Captain to get me off the shuttle. I would have even taken a dive into space if that was the only way. Seconds later, I was in Sick Bay. My mind was still racing from what I saw. At least the tingliness and the cold sweat were gone. I've not been able to sleep well since, but I do feel better."

And that was the end of his side of the tale. Xel was going to mention it to the Captain that the crewman seemed fine and once extensive scans were made, his return to normal duty could be considered. Only after some extensive sessions with the counselor. In the meantime, she wanted to see the most recent scans, which came as she was on her way out of his quarters and down the corridor.

"Sir..."

"Drop it. Ma'am will do."

"Yes sir...ma'am"

Again with the sirmam. That almost became her name on the Salasua she knew. No one could get over her desire to not be called 'sir' and always ended up correcting themselves directly after. But that mitigated over time until everyone beneath her was used to calling her 'ma'am'. But here, the whole sirmam situation was about to start up all over again.

"These scans are like nothing we've ever seen before. The science officer said that O'Malley is in pieces but there seems to be traces of some foreign agent spread about the shuttle. Inanimate in the remains, but seemingly animate in the shuttle."

"So what is it?"

The crewman shrugged then looked back at the tricorder. "The best the science crew could guess, to which the nurses on hand concurred, is that this is some form of mechanical or at least manufactured, airborne type, invisible organism. A virus maybe."

Well that was something. What it was certainly was not the most important thing on her mind at the moment. It was on the shuttle still and thus unable to leave. "Is it sentient? Can we communicate with it?"

"The science crew picked up no central brain or nervous system. We have no idea what this is. Some form of control no less, but nothing beyond that."

Xel looked around, thinking. "You said it is mechanical...manufactured."

"Synthetic. Whatever the word is, but it certainly has the look and build of something unnatural."

Xel had her theories and would share them with the Captain when she could. She was looking back in the direction of the quarantined quarters.

"There is no way we can study this thing with the resources we have without it taking loads of time."

"Well, we may have to simply hold on to it then. Or hand it off to someone else who can study it." She looked back at the crewman she was speaking to only to see him eyeing her up and down. "Crewman, you ogling me or still back from the whole Borg idea?" The man could only speak in stuttering vowels. "Be honest. Anything that does not include both I will know is a lie. I value honesty."

"Then, I was doing both, sir...ma'am."

She looked around him as some people walked about the corridor. "It's good you got all three out of the way then. No more ogling. I'm a Borg, deal with it. And call me ma'am, Lieutenant, LT, but not 'Sir'."

"Yes ssssss...ma'am."

She ordered a full report of the findings, was going to look over the scans herself and draw up a report. At least she had something in common with everyone else on the ship. This 085 was something neither had ever heard of, seen, or even met anything similar.


	8. Chapter 8

"Enter," and that voice rumbled through the doors. Those commands were generally meant for the computer, to let it know that the occupant did not mind a visitor. But if the computer could have picked up the tone and sound of the voice, it probably would have decided not to let Xel enter.

She was hesitant to step inside. The look of the place let her predict where this was all going. It was on the Salasusa, her Salasua, that she and others were constantly given exercises on the holodeck to fight off computer generated Klingons. They were unable to hire real ones, being bitter enemies and all. Xel took well to the Klingon battle arena. She knew how honorable the Klingons were and if she were ever captured by them and was given the opportunity to stand trial by combat, she would not hesitate.

This however was no trial by combat, and the Klingon in the center of the room was no simulation. The rest was though. It looked exactly as she recalled the Klingon battle arena simulations on her Salassua looked. And since no one had ever seen such a place and lived to tell the tale, much less build an accurate simulation, Dor'Kon's simulation looked much more elegant and beautiful.

"Enter," rumbled the voice again. First was for the computer. This was for her and the sheer force of voice made her involuntarily take a step inside. The next few steps came far easier.

Dor'Kon stood in the center of a large platform. The platform was octagonal in shape and a ravine greeted each side. It looked as if one wrong step during any type of physical activity would be met in certain death. Xel seemed to realize this just after speaking, because when she turned to the doors sliding shut and vanishing, she noticed she was inches from the edge and hopped back, further into the octagon out of instinct alone. Across the ravine sat spectators on all sides, the haze in the darkened room obscuring one's vision from any revelation of them other than the fact that they were Klingon, and they didn't like this new visitor. There were jeers and yells when she entered, Dor'Kon regarding each with a solemn glance.

Xel had always thought what it would be like to fight a Klingon. Finally, she was in a Klingon battle arena, and there seemed to be no way out. She looked back at Dor'Kon. He looked bigger in his workout outfit. Xel looked herself over really quick. Her outfit molded her body and followed each and every curve. She thought of herself as being nowhere near half his size.

Their eyes connected and she saw something different in his eyes than in everyone else's that she passed on the way there. The crew, men at least, all turned their heads and could not keep their eyes connected to hers. They all went down, up, and traced her curves. Many were ogling, others were still aback from a Borg aboard, and some were dealing with both. But this Klingon's eyes did not waver from hers. Those eyes looked stern, confident, and most certainly dangerous.

"I...uh...would like to have a word...with your permission…Commander." Those words came out awkwardly. Xel was never prone to such intimidation, she had also never seen a Klingon face to face.

It was obvious she wanted to talk and Dor'Kon made that point clear with, "Obviously."

She stepped closer to him. Both were Starfleet officers, only she was not yet official. She was Starfleet only on the ship and under the captainhood of Frances Kelethan. The rest of Starfleet still did not know. Still, she felt safe and could only hope her feelings were correct.

"I want to apologize for what happened on the deck the other day. For shooting you. I was actring on instinct. My phaser reset inside the wormhole and it was originally set to vaporize, so uh..." be thankful you are not dead? That would sound like a threat. And if he was vaporized, Xel would end up being the dead one. So she was the one who had to be thankful. "...it pleases me to see you unhurt." Those words were also awkward. She started a statement and had to at least finish. Having to prove herself to a new Salasua and crew, likewise a new universe, she did not want to appear weak, but standing before such a monstrosity of a man, she had virtually no choice.

He stood on the center of the platform in a tight fitting garment that seemed to be made of black leather. His chest was bare except for two horizontal straps adorned with Klingon medals of some kind and a crossing chain sash. Muscles bulged and pulsed from unseen locations all over his body, and sweat stood about him in thick beads like stubborn raindrops that refused to soak. He was holding a bet'leth. Although it looked quite heavy, he swung it around his upper body and into the surface of the stone platform where it dug in like a knife in loose dirt. Hands on his hips, he addressed the visitor. "You picked an interesting time for an apology. Be that as it may, my graces are not something you should concern yourself with. It is my trust and respect that you do not have. No apology will give you that."

Xel grew more comfortable with the surroundings, and she stepped closer and circled around Dor'Kon taking in the scenery. "Still, I feel I must apologize." She looked to him, whipping her hair around. "You've read my report. About how the Klingons and Federation were bitter enemies. But here, half of what I have ever known is being tossed upside down. The other half is moved around a bit. But being raised to hate Klingons, though I never did because I never had a real reason to, I did, however, grow accustomed to drawing my weapon at the first sight of any Klingon, Romulan, or any member of the Dominion. You of all people should understand instinct. Me shooting you was an act of automation. Nothing more. No hatred, no vengeance, no ill will whatsoever. Now you are my commanding officer. I see the need for...reparation."

Dor'Kon followed her with eyes that tried to betray him. In this place, he must keep his mind as sharp as his blade - as it was a much more formidable weapon. He followed her every move, albeit a casual gait, as if she may attempt to draw a weapon and take him down. It had happened before hadn't it? And if it happened again she may not regain use of the limb that drew the weapon. "I was informed by the Captain that the incident was an...accident. You didn't come here to tell me something I already knew. What is it that you want?" He crossed his arms on the massive chest, the muscles on his upper arms seeming bigger now with the new size of his fists raising them from beneath.

Xel nodded, ended that nod with a glance to the ground at the Klingon engravings in the hard clay, then darted her eye back to him. "You're right. I am here for something else. I have never met a Klingon face to face before, so I shall never have a basis of comparison between you and the Klingons I was raised to hate. I do, however, want to know what it is like to meet one in hand-to-hand combat. I am asking for a challenge, a spar. Just us two. So far the one Klingon I have ever met, you, has proven to be very similar to what I have read so much about and, if I am right, you are looking for a little bit of vengeance."

Dor'Kon was thinking, appearing almost dumbfounded, thinking her to be insane.

"I came to apologize and I was not expecting you to accept. Actually, I expected you to do exactly as you have done already."

Dor'Kon furrowed his brow as the jeers grew from the crowd encircling them. He knew what they wanted. 'You'll kill her. And then what?' He spoke in a lower tone, almost completely muffled by the crowd as if he didn't want them to hear it. "Have you lost your mind? Klingons were bred to fight. Your stature places you at a disadvantage that will be amplified by my training. I cannot accept blame for what might happen."

"Looks can be deceiving commander. Believe me when I say, and do not take it the wrong way, but it will take some effort to deliver me some real and permanent damage. I am not as frail as you may think. I was trained to fight," by a Vulcan. That would not go over well here. Besides, he would definitely turn down her challenge. "And trained well," she finished. "I have fought your kind before. Simulations of course. I just want a taste of the real deal." She stopped, standing before him attempting her eyes as serious as his. She was serious, but found it difficult to illustrate the sternness and confidence that emanated from him.

Dor'Kon suppressed a chuckle, but quickly flattened his face. Never underestimate an opponent, that's rule number 2. "Very well then. Would you like to request a weapon, or would you like to use your body alone?"

"Body alone. Strictly hand-to-hand. That is the truest form of fighting."

Dor'Kon narrowed his eyes as she started to back away slowly, assuming a stance that was equidistant from his own and the edge of the ravine. "Very well then." He reached forward and grasped the middle handle on the large blade with a suddenness that made her flinch, then pulled it quickly from its perch. Swinging it around his body as if it were as light as a sheet of paper, the steel of the blade became a single grey flash following a rehearsed orbit around the Klingon's back and head. Finally, he flung it to his right without looking. The blade sung sickeningly through the thick air as ends traded places with rapid succession. In a moment that seemed as sudden as the end of a coast line, the blade struck the area just below the stadium seating and hung steadfastly. The audience members that had previously occupied the closest seats had jumped at least two rows up to avoid certain decapitation, only to look like cowards to the fellow audience members they now shared seats with. Jeers, laughter, and shoving ensued. Dor'Kon's hand was still outstretched, and he had yet to look. He knew where it landed. His eyes never left hers. He lowered his hand, then placed one foot slightly behind the other. "It begins. Come forward challenger, and face your Klingon."

The two circled each other. Klingon and Borg. It was quite a sight. Neither wanted to make the first move but it was Xel that made the challenge. She wanted to know what it was like to fight a Klingon. As always, the best way to find out is to do, so she moved in with a quick jab. Blocked. Dor'Kon's block on her first attempt almost hurt. The man seemed almost able to defeat people with his stare alone, and he probably did, but Xel was determined to not go down that easy.

Xel was not expecting much of anything from that first attempt at a strike. Both were fully energized and nothing exciting was going to come of it yet. This was nothing more than a sizing up of the enemy. She tried a foot sweep and his foot lifted out of the way. She expected it and was already blocking when he brought that foot up. He must have been aiming for her torso, but his height made it difficult for him to aim that low it seemed. His foot came mere inches from her face. Her arms were up though to block. The top of his foot met her forearm and then withdrew.

Xel did not feel much force behind that kick. Dor'Kon had apparently aborted. Either afraid to strike a woman or wanting to see how long this match would last. In all honesty, Xel felt she would not stand long against him, but she refused to simply go down without at least delivering a bruise or two.

Him aborting that kick caused him a little bit more time in ignorance. It was not something Xel thought on much. In her universe, everyone knew. In this universe, just her presence was a mystery to many. And the revelation Dor'Kon was close to experiencing was either good or bad. Afterall, it had to be one of the two. Had she thought this all through beforehand, she probably would have decided against a challenge, but the truth must be let out at some point, and it almost was, right then and there.

She moved in quite fast, perhaps a little faster than he was expecting, but not fast enough for her to land that first blow. Her fist was slapped away, so she spun around bringing her other hand up for a back-hand to the face, but her hand became buried inside his hand. Then a palm came rushing up into her ribcage nearly lifting her off the ground. She maintained her balanced as she ended up a few feet away from Dor'Kon. He seemed slightly confused about something. He looked at his hand then back to her.

Xel only gave a nod. No damage was delivered to her though a strike like that would normally knock the breath out of someone. She moved in with a thrust kick, slapped away to the side, which she followed through with a spin and a back kick. That foot met an impasse as it became engulfed in both his hands. Dor'Kon turned that foot over and Xel followed through with a jump, a spin, and another attempt with the foot she originally kicked with. Dor'Kon let go of her foot, leaned back to avoid and then both were again a few feet away staring at each other.

"Your mighty gentle. Don't want to hurt a woman, is that it? Just think of me as Borg. That should aid your fighting abilities."

Both stepped forward. Dor'Kon with his first advance, and Xel, well they had already lost count. Dor'Kon was apparently over the whole fighting a woman thing. To him this was a Borg and the look on his face made it clear that he was getting into fight mode. Her first blow turned out to be verbal, something of an insult. His punches were slow but heavy and hurt her just to block. Her moves were fast, not as powerful. She did manage to land a few but they made little difference. Dor'Kon was no stranger to fighting and knew the blows he could take and the ones he could not afford to ignore.

One was a jab to the throat to which he simply brought his arm up. Instead of slapping her hand away, her fist stopped in its tracks up against his forearm. Both Xel and Dor'Kon retracted in pain. She hurt from the sudden stopping of her fist against Dor'Kon's brick wall of an arm. Dor'Kon, from another experience altogether. To him, it felt like being hit with a metal bat. Maybe not solid, but strong enough.

Maybe his forearm was fractured, maybe the bone just chipped, perhaps neither, either way, it hurt and was going to leave a bruise. Xel could see a demand for answers in his eyes.

"Metal plated skeleton. And a suped up nervous system. Thousands of years of assimilation leaves something of a natural de-evolutionary effect. Us natural Borg aren't up to par yet. We need...a little bit of help."

"Help you will need," he growled as he advanced with a melee of fists. One landed on the side of her head. It was one of those fake-out punches to try and make one block and be vulnerable to the real deal looming ahead. Xel saw it and took it, which did not effect her much. It more effected him. He, in essence, punched a metal plate, but not with much force.

It was still enough for Xel to fall back to regain herself. Going back to her belief in not being able to stand against him for long, she actually thought it was going to end right there. That punch was going to end her stand, but standing she still was.

"What's wrong?" She shook off some perspiration. Her breathing was increased. Dor'Kon however seemed well rested. "Tired of sparring? If so we can stop. I won't tell anyone. Or are you unwilling to take the chance of a woman taking you down?"

She quickly regretted that remark. There was no taking it back, and Klingons (from what she knew and heard) were not ones for takebacks. What was said in the heat of battle was truth. Fighting was afterall the best way to actually meet someone. You don't know someone until you fight them. That was the saying. And Dor'Kon got a good glimpse of her true self, not necessarily one to hate, but one to push the right or wrong buttons. Insulting a Klingon suddenly became an act she was to never do again.

A fist, far faster than she had predicted, was looming toward her face and she blocked, and blocked fast. That suped up nervous system helped her react with accurate timing. Just to be on the safe side, she had her other arm join the first. That fist looked too menacing to be stopped with just one metal-like arm.

As it impacted, Xel felt a few tiny crunches emanating from his hand. A broken finger or two. And it hurt. That hurt was both good and bad. Bad for her and good for him. Dor'Kon's teeth gritted and his voice growled with anger. The pain surging in his hand caused a rush.

That punch, the short instant it took her to realize the breaking in his hand, and that growl distracted her just enough to miss that other free hand, open-palmed, speeding toward her neck. Her reflexes amounted to nothing as those thick fingers tightened around her neck.

She gave a punch to his jaw but that resulted in more of a squeeze from his hand. The floor then disappeared from beneath her feet. Xel brought both her hands to his vice grip in an attempt to remove them from her neck. They were in fact disallowing her lungs from getting the nourishment they needed.

Once, when she was young, and on Earth, she fell from a tree and landed flat on the ground. It was a dizzying event and left her breathless. The same feeling and effect came upon her being slammed against a wall. She mamanged to look down. They were standing over the ravine, in mid air. She didn't care about what she was slammed against. The breathlessness was already present so all the effects emerged in random order.

She tried to speak but only managed short coughs, a few spits, and only vowels. Her vocals were of no use, so she turned to an attempt to mouth words and hoped Dor'Kon was something of a lip-reader. The words "Please," "Stop," and "Sorry," were hard to form. Those fingers of his tensed her jaw muscles, disallowing free movement and making her mouthing attempts to bring about more pain.

It was almost with each attempt that she felt another surge of strength streak down his arm ending at his hand and in his fingers. The wall was removed from her head and back only to rush up once again. With another slam, she managed an involuntary vocal cry but was quickly silenced under that unyielding hand.

Her eyes rolled back in her head and she squeezed them shut hoping to find some kind of inner strength to combat this new and ferocious Klingon about to strangle the life from her. She tried kicking but her feet never met anything and she quickly grew winded and tired. Squirming only worsened the situation until she finally fell limp in his single grip. Her breathing stopped, hands fell free to her sides, and legs stopped kicking. It was almost all over for her. Resistance proved futile and only hastening of the inevitable, so she surrendered the only way she could, simply to stop fighting.

That iron grip was suddenly removed from her neck and her feet met the ground once again. She had fought many fights and no matter how badly she got beat, she was never knocked out or put in such a state as to not be able to get herself to her feet and stay there. It was her intention to land on her feet and stand up to Dor'Kon's latest attack, but she found herself descending further toward the ground. Her knees slammed against the bit of sky separating them from the ravine floor below and she was still descending until her palms met it as well. Only one more descent was to be made but she managed to hold herself where she was.

Xel was expecting a foot on her back pressing her hard to the holodeck floor but the foot never came. She coughed and gave faint vocal cries as it momentarily pained her to breath. She opened her watery eyes and looked forward at the two monstrous feet.

Dor'Kon stood there (victor over fallen opponent), breathing the fire from his lungs while Xel was on her hands and knees attempting to get the air back into hers. She made a mental note to see about metal plating on her neck. Her heavy breathing and coughing continued as she finally managed to raise herself to a kneeling position. Her neck was stiff but she managed to look up to him and strove to regain the ability to speak, but Dor'Kon beat her to it.

Dor'Kon looked to the woman, then to the hand that screamed with pain only he could hear. She gasped and sat back on her haunched knees, vulnerable to a kill that many other Klingons would surely take. "Never encountered that in your simulation?"

"N..." and that was all she could get out from her still straining neck. Her eyes met his however and she did shake her head in the negative. The Klingons in her simulations were not as ferocious. Perhaps the programmer underestimated them or the Klingons from her universe were truly not up to par with what she had just experienced.

"Do you concede?"

Concede? Of course not. That word was hardly even in her vocabulary unless she used it on another. But to be directed at her, she always had the same answer. This was however the first time she would give her answer without words. Xel got to one foot pushed herself up to a standing position and simply stood there, her arms by her side.

Something inside Dor'Kon, something that had bent countless times in the Captain's presence, broke with the last bit of weight it could handle. When it snapped, it unleashed a fury that had spent unknown time in a cell that was much to small. What started as a low growl bubbled into a scream of rage. He parted his lips to let it pass. Although he had stayed his hands as best he could, the one that screamed with pain came forward on a lightning fast backward stroke. The back of his fist met with unprotected jaw, and Xel's head rolled wildly with the hit. Blood spattered on the stone work behind, covering the Klingon 'victory above life' symbol. The hand that was possibly fractured before was now surely broken, jagged bumps and dark blue streaks dominated it's misshapen surface. Her head moved back into position slowly, hair sticking to the corner of her mouth where blood inched toward the chin. Although he had not felt the pain when he hit her, the screaming was now amplified by 10 angered voices. He staggard in the dizziness it created, then focused on her own wavering eyes. "Fool! Would you rather die than give up?" Although remnants of the outburst left hints of anger in the voice, he began to feel something else for the woman. Something only one warrior feels for another. Respect.

She tongued at the gap on the inside of her bottom lip. Her mouth started filling with blood and saliva and she let it out in a spit. The mixture landed on the hard clay and oozed into the engravings. She brought her eyes back to his. Though in pain, she maintained a stern look. "Death seems far better. Giving up, as you put it, would bring the greatest dishonor." No one ever gave up in the Klingon arena. If two opponents did not walk out as friends or at least have their issue settled, then only one walked out. On some occasions, neither. But this was no real Klingon arena. It felt the same though and Xel was going to keep that feeling alive, even if it meant death.

Dor'Kon stared at the woman for a moment, dumbfounded. He realized suddenly that he was panting...the fit of rage the apparent culprit for the action. Looking down quickly at the swollen bag of broken bones serving as his hand, his eyes went to the two blood spots on the platform then back to hers. "Death before dishonor. That is a motto I can agree with." He narrowed his eyes on the woman, considering for a moment whether she was displaying extreme bravery or extreme stupidity. Liking the first possibility better, he lifted his good hand slowly. The movement connected with this lift was not a hostile one, but rather a sign of friendship. He extended his hand toward her as she ran a slow hand across her chin, wiping the thin inching line of blood into a maroon smear.

"Let us concede together then. As equals."

Not what she expected, but what she was hoping for. She was expecting anything from death to more of a beatdown, but got a hand in friendship. "There is much we are not equal on. But there is always ground where both can tread, side by side. I accept." She took that hand though hers nearly disappeared in his grip and that grip also caused her bones to rub against each other. She did all she could to return such an iron grip. It hurt, but felt great compared to the near strangulation and that backhand.

He gave her hand one shake, more of a firm downward plunge, and followed it with a firm nod. "Very well. It is done." He stood tall, raising his chin slightly. "That is all Lieutenant. Report to your duties. Computer, exit." An arch appeared on one edge of the platform, where Xel had made her entrance. The hazy and dark atmosphere around the exit made a stark contrast to the bright colors of the ships interior. Xel made her way for the door.

"Lieutenant."

She turned toward him slowly.

"You might want to get that jaw looked at." He flashed something that resembled a smile, possibly his first, then stiffened and fired off a quick salute.

Xel, in turn gave a quick smirk, followed by a single laugh. She stiffed and returned the salute. Then went to moving her jaw around. "I think I might have to." She stepped back, beyond the door, and nodded to him as the door slid shut.


	9. Chapter 9

The sight was familiar. The sounds were famlier. The faces even. It was midnight, the graveyard shift, though space knew no time of day or night.

Xel sat on the Captain's chair switching between writing a personal log and a Captain's log. Writing in the stead of speaking it aloud. She felt the others would appreciate that. Attempting casual conversation proved futile as all remained short-lived. All the ones she started or partook in. Even the crewman at Tactical, one of Xel's own personnel, did not seem overly interested in conversation. If ordered to, they would. She was afterall, currently captaining the ship. 'All senior officers need to do it,' she typed out. Her shift, for the time being, was the graveyard shift.

Captain's orders, as she was still learning the ship, her personnel, protocol, and this universe's Starfleet regulations. Kelethan wanted her to command a skeleton crew. Less going on meant less personnel though she had a full bridge crew. Xel was uncertain if that full bridge crew was regulation or if it shown some remaining concern from the captain.

The low hum of the ship was constant and the infrequent bleep of the computer terminals made the only music. Few words were shared. That was fine. That meant fewer people to captain, fewer orders to pass around. Little was going on and, since all pretty much knew what they were doing, she was simply there because some senior officer had to be. Xel could not help but to feel somewhat void of purpose however. She wanted, strove for acceptance. But many disregarded that desire because she was Borg.

As she typed away at her pad, recording her thoughts, she only thought about the short time she had been on that ship, in this universe thusfar. What else would she think about?

Dangremon Herschel. 'Why can't I forget about this man?'

It was a subject she avoided and a man she avoided even more. As she typed, her words formed the thoughts she was repressing. 'I can't love him. I watched him die. Mirror universe, yes. But how different can men be, in whatever universe? He...'

The words that came to mind were, 'betrayed' and 'violated', though she wrote 'was disloyal to me. From what I hear about this Herschel, he is no different. Just a fighter jock with an ego as big as the space he flies in.'

The other man she avoided, Terrell, was a JAG officer 'sent by Starfleet to spy on us. To look into questions and accusation surrounding Frances Kelethan. But that was the mirror Terrell. What does this Terrell have to offer? So far, nothing but secrets. He and his men work in their own section of the Salasusa which is off limits to us STANDARD Starfleet personnel. He is not here to spy. I normally read people pretty well and I do not sense that about him. What is he doing here then?'

'Where is Kantaris?'

But the most confusing thing was the amount of trust and the speed at which that trust was bestowed upon her. Dangremon Herschel and Captain Terrell still showed reservations, signs of distrust, and that was only when they managed to pass each other in the halls. 'Probably resulting from my avoidance of them. Kelethan. He seems no different than the Frances Kelethan I served under before. Easy to trust, easily trusting, laid back, and simply goes with the flow, forcing a hand when the time calls.'

Dor'Kon on the other hand was another specimen altogether. Xel thought about the waning ache in her jaw. The doctor healed it nicely but the memory pain remained. The Klingon had no mirror universe counterpart familiar to her. 'Perhaps he was the Klingon I dispatched over Bajor.' She at least had something of a trust in and from the Klingon, respect at the very least. And the commander knew about Xel's abilities and enhancements, the metal plated skeletal structure and Borg implants to boost nervous reactions.

'A sudden dread has taken me.' As she finished that thought, a sudden and unexpected tingle appeared througout her body. She looked around. No one else on the bridge took notice. She was quick to control her breathing and her dilated pupils could have been mistook as a natural occurence. Traces of perspiration would certain show signs of distress. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. The tingling sensation mitigated leaving her nervous and with a desire to speak with Captain Kelethan as soon as possible. Even to the point of waking him in his sleep.

'Both the Klingon and the doctor know what I possess inside. Initial scans from when I was in the brig certainly did not give them full details. I must speak with the captain before either of them can deliver their reports.'

Xel could only wonder which would get to him first, the doctor or Dor'Kon. It would look better if she got to him first and dilvulged all she could think of. This information was going to get out sooner or later and sooner seemed a better choice. 'Me willingly divulging this would look best of all.'

Taking a break from her personal log, she added more to the captain's log. No new findings, no incidents, no anomalies, different time. She turned to continue with her studies. Here she needed to be almost totally re-educated. Though her job was the same and the ship almost exactly the same, events played out a lot different. She finally understood the look Kelethan gave her when she mentioned the Jack Leon Ruby shooting of President Johnson. It did not go down like that at all.

Xel went to the various stations. Perhaps those on duty would have rather avoided her, she needed to be near them, to do all she could to comfort them. Through brief hesitance and trying hard to cover their resentment, each succumbed to the inquiry that she shadow and learn the computer and controls. The bulk of her shadowing was at Tactical. The crewman was most comfortable around her but was still getting used to this Borg in command of the ship.

Another hour later, she turned her attention back to her studies and searched for all information regarding the legendary ship with many stories; the Enterprise. She saw several ships and several captains. There was the NX-01, and NCC-1701A through E. The Captains were Archer, Pike, Kirk, Harriman, Garrett, and Picard being the current. And all those names were familiar.

Each one had a long history. Pike encounted the Talosians and later returned. Kirk possessed volumes of information as did Picard. Garrett went down with her ship. Her decisions and ultimate death paved the way for peace with the Klingons in this universe. Harriman, however, had but a few paragraphs of history. Xel scrolled the information up and down like flipping pages in a book hoping additional information would magically appear. It didn't. The other Harriman was the historical figure with the stories and the volumes of information. From his history, she didn't know whether to praise or resent the man.

Upon reading what the computer displayed about the Mirror Kirk and his I.S.S. Enterprise, Xel concluded that she did not originate in THE mirror universe as history indicated but A mirror universe. Perhaps one parrallel to what few have encountered. Strange.

Xel already had a few consecutive strange days, and from the way it looked, it was going to be a strange life. She turned to some of the other ships in starfleet, their encounter with the Borg, alternate universes, wormholes, and the like. She had a lot of history to catch up on. And still some hours before the next senior officer would show up relieving her of duty.


End file.
