Chapter 51: Oblique Maneuvers
Carol and Amy arrived at the PRT medical wing fifteen minutes earlier than their appointment time, thanks to light traffic and a bit of luck with the lobby and elevator. Miss Militia was already there with Director Piggot. "Director, Miss Militia," greeted Carol.
"Brandish, Panacea, thank you for coming. Your presence here will help alleviate a lot of concerns," said the Director.
Brandish...Carol Dallon...quirked her eyebrow. "Concerns about what exactly, Director? I assume we're not here because somebody needs healing?" That was the typical reason why the PRT asked for Panacea's services.
"You're familiar with the Family?" asked Miss Militia.
The New Wave mother nodded without changing her expression. "You're talking about the giant lizards that helped drive away Leviathan?" Amy Dallon got an odd expression on her face, but the adults didn't notice.
"Apparently, they did more than just drive away the Endbringer," grumped Piggot. "Apart from helping Panacea with the casualties, Dragon and Armsmaster both assure me that they repaired almost all of the city's critical infrastructure in a ridiculously short period of time."
"It
was the shortest, least damaging Endbringer fight I've been to," ventured Amy. The healing had gone quickly, and the damage to the city had seemed almost trivial...though that was apparently thanks to their scaly friends.
Taking up the thread, Miss Militia continued. "They have provided us with samples of some of the technology they used to heal people."
"Technology?" said Brandish with a start. "They didn't heal with powers?"
"I saw them heal people by touch at the triage center," protested Panacea.
"They did," agreed Miss Militia, "but the other two lizards...Saurial and Raptaur, carried small patches that were also capable of healing."
"Healing what?" asked Brandish. To Miss Militia's judgement, she sounded slightly suspicious.
Piggot snorted. "Practically anything, supposedly. That's what we're actually trying to verify. We would like Panacea to monitor a set of volunteers while we apply the patches."
"Just monitor?" queried Panacea.
"...and fix any problems that occur," added Miss Militia. "If possible."
Amy looked to Carol, who appeared to consider the matter and gave a small nod. Amy was curious to see what the Family technology would do. The fact that they were testing something new would explain why they had explicitly asked for both her can Carol, as Amy was still underage, if only barely.
"I've got some other matters, but Miss Militia can take it from here," said Piggot. She quickly went about her business while Miss Militia brought Carol and Amy in to where a PRT physician was sitting with a group of patients, all of whom had various medical issues.
The physician, Dr. Talbott, introduced himself and explained about the patients. "We were given quite a broad list of conditions that the healing symbiotes are designed to heal, and we've obtained consenting volunteers with a number of health problems."
"Wait, symbiote? The healing devices are alive?" asked Amy.
The doctor nodded. "Technically, yes, although the symbiotes themselves appear to stay in stasis until they begin to heal, and then harmlessly dissolve after they finish their task."
"You're testing biotinker work?" asked Brandish, once again suspicious.
"No," interjected Miss Militia. "At least, not as we understand it. Apparently, the Family are far in advance of humanity in terms of the biological...and possibly other...sciences." Given that they arrived at the Endbringer fight in an actual spaceship, that probably went without saying. "It isn't tinker work. They can explain their function."
"Even if most of us can only barely understand the explanations unless they dumb them down," commented Doctor Talbott wryly. "If you're still willing to assist, I can tell you about our volunteers."
After a brief debate, with Carol being hesitant despite Miss Militia's assurances, they agreed to continue. There were half-a-dozen cases. One was a PRT trooper with a broken wrist in a cast. The second was a young man who had lost his arm below the elbow in a motorcycle crash six months ago. He was still suffering phantom pains in the lost limb. The third was a woman who had just been diagnosed with early stage breast cancer, with a good prognosis even with normal treatment. The fourth was another PRT trooper, this time a woman, who was suffering from a bad cold. The fifth caused Amy to raise an eyebrow -- an older woman with advanced kidney disease who had been on dialysis for years. It was not hard to see her as a stand-in for Director Piggot, whose health problems were an open secret at the PRT. The sixth caused both Carol and Amy to share a shocked look, as it was a middle-aged man suffering from chronic depression.
"How were these patients selected?" asked Brandish.
"Ianthe provided a list of categories we would want to test based upon their experiences with their version of the PRT," explained Talbott.
"
Their version of the PRT?" asked Panacea before Brandish could voice the same question.
Miss Militia winced. "This isn't common knowledge, but the Family apparently reside in a parallel Brockton Bay, similar to how Earth Aleph and Earth Bet are related, but the similarities between there and here are even greater...to the point where the PRT and the Protectorate exist, and they have a PRT office in Brockton Bay run by their version of Director Piggot."
"You believe that?" asked Brandish in tone that suggested Miss Militia might be delusional.
"I understand your reaction," she replied, "but they've presented an overwhelming volume of evidence to prove their case, and both Armsmaster and Dragon have confirmed much of it independently."
"What about the Protectorate's thinkers?" asked Brandish. It was fairly well-known, especially to Protectorate affiliates like New Wave, that the government agency maintained their own group of thinkers to analyze problems.
"They can't get a read on the Family, but they have confirmed that so far their effects have been nothing but benevolent," replied Miss Militia. It was slightly concerning that the lizards seemed to create a similar blind spot for thinkers and precogs as the Endbringers, but telling that to Brandish wouldn't be productive at the moment.
The tests went smoothly -- better than expected, and Panacea seemed oddly energized by the experience. In fact, she seemed utterly fascinated at how the tiny little symbiotic organisms diagnosed and corrected problems. She paid particular attention to how the man suffering from depression was adjusted, watching for any signs of mastering or other negative side effects on the man's personality or mental acuity. The worst side effect for any of the patients was that the man with the new arm lost three pounds of fatty tissue and was exceedingly hungry after the procedure.
Miss Militia and the doctor thanked them, and scheduled a follow-up with the same patients in a week to verify the absence of after-effects. The ride home with Carol was quiet at first. Then Amy said, "That last man was really interesting. The healing symbiote didn't change anything except the balance of his mental biochemistry. I'll need to check up on it at the follow-up next week, but if it checks out...there's no reason why it couldn't heal anybody with that problem."
Carol was quiet for more than a minute. Then she said, "I'm not sure I trust those lizards."
"They healed a lot of people at the Endbringer fight...including Eric." Shielder had been injured by falling debris, and Metis had fixed him almost immediately.
Her mother pursed her lips. "We'll have to discuss it as a team," was all Carol said.
Amy smiled quietly to herself. Despite her general attitude, Amy was sure that Carol...mom...loved her dad, and she knew the rest of the team would jump at the chance to fix his mental issues. It was just a matter of convincing Carol to overcome her own overly cautious tendencies, which shouldn't be that hard given the potential gain to everybody, but especially to Mark Dallon.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Admiral Janeway was reviewing the reports, and her conclusions were inescapable. Somebody was identifying Section 31 assets and making them disappear...but
only Section 31 assets that were originally from the Empire. They had lost contact with fifty-three agents, and every single one of them was either a deep cover plant or a replacement asset. What's worse was that whoever was doing it was smart enough to not do it in any sort of predictable pattern.
The first disappearance was almost three weeks ago. It had taken a week and a dozen disappearances before anybody realized that causalities were higher than normal attrition. The galaxy was a dangerous place, and even trained intelligence agents weren't immune to random dangers, after all. The focus on Terran Empire assets though was a common factor, as was the complete lack of any bodies. Whoever was taking out their agents was either capturing and imprisoning them, or killing them and vaporizing the bodies...or both. They were also doing it at a frighteningly rapid pace. At this rate, they would be out of Terran Empire personnel in this reality in less than a month.
Janeway looked at a different set of reports. There was a report of a meeting between Starfleet officers where Section 31 had been a topic of discussion. That wasn't unusual in and of itself. The existence of Section 31 was pretty much an open secret in some parts of Starfleet; even the Imperial Fleet couldn't stamp out the spread of rumors among the ranks despite harsh punishments, so there was little chance of doing so in Starfleet. This meeting contained a number of people of interest, however. Jean-Luc Picard had not had any direct contact with Section 31, but his history with the Borg Collective meant the organization followed his career closely. Julian Bashir, on the other hand, had been involved in that fiasco with Sloan and the Changeling virus. Sloan was lucky he was dead given how badly he had screwed them over thanks to his own hubris. Miles O'Brien was also involved...and had actually had contact with the mirror universe in the past. Janeway smirked a little at the nickname that ass Sisko gave to O'Brien's counterpart. There had also been an unknown reptilian alien involved in the meeting. What's more, shortly after, Picard took off to sectors unknown with his android officer, Data. Data was yet another "person" of interest, and yet another reminder of their people's failure to curb that bastard Soong.
There were too many people of interest involved there. What was worse was that, due to the incompetence of the reporting agent, they had no idea as to the actual content of the conversation. The date of the meeting was shortly before their people started disappearing, which was also suspicious. There was also the matter of the unidentified alien. Who knew what it brought to the table in terms of capabilities? For all they knew, its species might be able to smell people from other dimensions. She had seen stranger things than that in both universes. She needed more information...and there was an obvious place to get it.
She hit the intercom. "Kelsey, is this universe's Janeway still away from Earth?"
"Yes, ma'am," came the voice of her assistant and bodyguard. The woman was a proper combination of ruthless and loyal, and understood that her best chances were to ride along on the successes of a superior officer.
"Very well. We need to head to Starfleet Academy. Have our people set a distraction for my counterpart if it appears she's heading back," she ordered. It wouldn't do to accidentally run into herself in the heart of the Federation.
Miles O'Brien knew the contents of that meeting. Kathryn Janeway needed that information, and she would get it, one way or another.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Charles Gunn sat on an alien world and watched the sun rise. He had grown up poor, and had struggled to survive in a world where the injustices of man were one of the lesser threats to his safety. He had fought for his friends and family, and had lost most of those over the years. He had made a Faustian bargain with Wolfram and Hart in order to preserve his value to the team...and that had been just the most recent in a series of desperate acts dating back to his childhood. He now had an opportunity, albeit one that was somewhat depressing in its circumstances. He had nobody depending upon him, and he was not personally in danger to either his body or his soul. The Nox had fixed the mystical addiction inflicted by Wolfram and Hart when they implanted a knowledge of law, and his mind was clear. Now he just had to decide what to do with his life.
Wesley had jumped at the chance to become a Watcher again under the Sineya Council. His path had veered down a dark road the last couple of years, and now that Angel was abandoning the cause, he needed a new purpose. Fred, too, had jumped at the chance to work on Sineya Station, a place where she could communicate with actual peers and work on technology that would have made half the geeks at CalTech sell their souls for just a look. They had offered him a place as well...but the one thing that group didn't need was muscle, and he wasn't confident in his ability to contribute with his mind, especially after the lawyer fiasco. To be completely honest, he could see Wes's obvious interest in the young genius, and while he wished them the best, he wasn't particularly interested in watching it happen from the sidelines. Fred had never forgiven him for what happened with Seidel...and he couldn't say he wouldn't do it again if the circumstances were the same.
Angel...or Liam, as he was starting to insist upon, had been a basket case when they made him human again, though in his case it was mostly because of what he learned about what had happened to Connor. A lot of therapy, and a re-introduction to his son (who was somehow a toddler again) had resulted in a former vampire who a) was slightly resentful of all of those who had manipulated him for their own benefit over the years, b) embarrassed by his own behavior, and horrified that he had foolishly allowed an evil law firm to mind-rape his own son, and c) committed to avoiding all of that in favor of raising his son properly, preferably on a world without a supernatural element. Charles realized that his time at W&H was still influencing him, as he never used to think about things in mental bullet points. The last he had heard from Liam, he was considering taking a colony slot in SG-1's universe. Charles couldn't really see himself as a frontier colonist, having lived in LA his entire life. Angel, at least, had grown up in a much less advanced time -- probably under circumstances more primitive than a modern frontier colony would have.
Lorne had realized rather quickly that being a demon on a space station full of slayers was going to be awkward at best, and that things were going to be rather unpleasant on Earth for demons once the Council truly started taking over. He also had no desire to go to his home dimension, and had to suspect what would happen to his own people if the Family somehow ended up stopping there. Demons who ate humans wouldn't be tolerated in the new order. Lorne's salvation had come when he realized that the universe from the
Star Trek television shows was actually real. Looked at logically, it made sense. Despite the recent wars, the Federation was still a safer place than an Earth where slayers and demons were constantly fighting each other. Nobody would think twice about his appearance, and entertainment and hospitality were two professions that still existed and were quite profitable in the United Federation of Planets. Gunn suspected he would do well there. Going with him was the only option so far that had been slightly tempting, but he suspected a thoroughly buried hero-worship for Captain Sisko was at the root of it. He would like to meet the man, but he had apparently already vanished.
Cordelia was avoiding all of them. She was still dealing with losing her memories and being told that she had been violated repeatedly in pretty much every possible way. Charles suspected that she was also angry with all of them for being so fixated on their own problems that they missed the signs of her possession by Jasmine. He was still angry with himself over it, so he could sympathize.
"You seem so sad," said a voice from behind him.
Gunn looked over and saw a very small little Nox girl looking at him. "Hello," he replied with a small smile. "Who are you?"
"My name is Siya. What's your name?" asked the little girl.
"I'm Charles. It's nice to meet you," he answered. "Are your parents around, Siya?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm just playing in the forest."
"Won't they be worried about you?" he asked, slightly concerned for the small child.
She stared at him, and then just asked, "Why?"
Gunn thought about it, and realized that the Nox's planet was probably the safest place in this and any other universe for a Nox child, regardless of whether they were supervised or not. "Where I grew up, it could be dangerous for small children to be off on their own." That was a massive understatement, actually, and that was without considering the vampires and other things going bump in the night.
"Is that why you're sad?" she asked.
He had to grin at the guileless way she asked. "I'm trying to decide what I want to do with my life. All of my friends are moving on to new things, but nothing they're doing fits what I want to do." He wasn't sure she would understand what he was saying, but maybe it would answer her question.
"Why don't you do what you want to do?" she asked, walking over to him and perching on a small rock. She looked at him with the kind of intent stare that only small children and the clinically insane can muster.
"I don't know what that is," he answered, flushing slightly at the admission.
The little girl narrowed her eyes in thought. Then she said, "Mommy says that when I don't know what I want to eat for supper, I should try a little bit of a lot of different things until I find what I like."
He actually chuckled at that. "It's not so easy to do that when you're an adult, Siya."
"You're not that old," she said, which was certainly true by the standards of the Nox. "If there's something I can't do, then I'm supposed to look for somebody older for help. Why don't you do that?"
Charles was going to answer again that it wasn't that easy, but then he paused to think about it. The Nox certainly had a lot of wisdom, though sometimes it could be hard to relate to their perspectives on things. The Family, on the other hand, seemed quite familiar with humans. They also seemed more than willing to spend absolutely absurd amounts of time and sweat fixing problems just because they could. It probably wouldn't hurt to ask. "You're a very smart little girl, Siya."
"That's what daddy says, too," she said in a tone that was simply stating a fact. "Do you want to help me catch kaya lizards in the woods?"
"What do you do with them when you catch them?" asked Charles, bemused.
She laughed a giggle that was bell-like. "I watch them, and I pretend I can talk to them and learn about their days of crawling around in the bushes. Then I let them go. Do you want to?" she asked, slightly insistently.
"Sure," he agreed, and followed the little girl deeper into woods. Kaya lizards were actually bigger than he expected, with most of them being about a foot long. Siya was gentle with them, and they tolerated her attentions better than he expected from a wild animal. She happily let any that didn't want to stay run off into the bushes. He soon forgot his brooding, which was good as it was a bad habit that he had picked up somewhere.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Varga was looking around at one of the primary Borg control centers on what was one of the original homeworlds for the species that formed the first collective (according to Seven's information). The decor was utilitarian and rather dull -- sort of the anti-Goa'uld aesthetic.
'Is there something about parasitic civilizations that drives them to extreme tastes in decorating?' wondered Taylor.
Inwardly, Varga smirked.
"I think it more likely that their self-centered nature drives their appearance. The Goa'uld might dispense with their stylistic choices if they could control their slaves simply through force of will. The Borg have no need to overwhelm their drones, and their assimilation approach has temporarily put them at the upper end of technical capabilities in this galaxy...at least among corporeal species. In any event, I believe it is time to announce ourselves."
Varga dropped the cloak on their Saurial form...and did what Dresden and his ilk would call, "flaring his aura." It was a way for powerful beings to compare relative strength and age, though it was usually only used when one of the involved beings is being or is likely to be obstinate. Doing it to the Q, for example, would have been considered rude, if not slightly juvenile. The Borg, though, were relatively immature as a species, and they were far too accustomed to measuring their power against younger civilizations.
The drones in the command center paused. Varga waited patiently for a queen torso to descend and merge with a mobile drone platform. The whole process seemed unexpectedly theatrical for the collective species, but Varga suspected they rationalized it as part of their psychological warfare. The Borg as a whole quite clearly understood the value of intimidation in lowering the cost of species assimilation. Their whole routine with a "drone chorus" and their speech about resistance being futile was clearly designed to cow their opposition.
The queen's eyes opened. "Why have you come here?" she stated. The other drones in the room began moving for the exits to the command center. If nothing else, Varga had made it quite clear that there would be no point in trying to assimilate the portion of his physical body present in this space. In fact, the Borg as a whole were rather puzzled by a series of contradictory sensor readings they were receiving, even if that was typical for highly evolved species.
"We are here to speak to the Borg...as equals." The pause and the slight smile made it quite clear that Varga felt it was generous to phrase it in such a manner.
The Collective paused. They had been repeatedly rebuffed by the non-corporeal beings of this galaxy, usually without explanation. It was unclear if this being was properly part of that group. They had never encountered this particular physical form, although it was clearly intended to mimic in type a reptilian biped. The Borg had records of at least six hundred species with a similar appearance. For a brief moment, though, the creature's power had shown like a naked singularity, and it was clear that this form was simply an affectation. Finally, the queen replied, "We are amenable to speaking with you."
Varga sat down on his tail. This was likely to take a while.
"We have some information to share with you, and we believe we can demonstrate some inefficiencies and weaknesses in how you seek to advance yourself."
To say that the collective was somewhat defensive and irritable in the ensuing conversation was an understatement. It was rather amusing, in some ways, on how like a human adolescent they were. They presumed knowledge beyond their experience and disliked criticism. It took quite a lot just to convince them that Varga's arguments had merit based on logic and evidence. The Borg assumed that they already understood everything that could be about species like the Vulcans.
"The philosphy of Species 3259 is hardly unique. There are many races that have had similar views. We find their insistence on diversity to be inefficient," said the queen in response to a point by Varga. "Chaotic factors may be introduced adequately through simulation."
"You presume a full understanding of all of the constraints and factors being simulated. I believe we've already demonstrated that fallacy by explaining Omega," replied Varga. The Federation "secret molecule" was only dangerous if you were foolish enough to try and create it. The fabric of reality in this universe was weak enough that an Omega molecule could open a hole to the space between universes, converting the substance there into a (very brief) firehose of unlimited energy.
The queen did a passable imitation of showing embarrassment. Once the phenomenon had been explained, their fixation on the Omega molecule seemed ridiculous in retrospect. "Nevertheless, diversity leads to dissent."
"Which can be useful in and of itself. Your insistence on forced conformity also makes you vulnerable to attacks against your control network...something I believe the Federation has demonstrated to you on numerous occasions. The biggest problem you have, however, is that you have started down a path toward stagnation. You are dependent upon assimilation for advancement. You have no internal subconscious as part of your collective mind, and you've eliminated any opportunities for the natural evolution of new ideas by enforcing consistency in your drones," explained Varga...for the third time in this conversation, though each time used a slightly different approach.
The Borg as a civilization had decided that certain things weren't necessary without really understanding them. Free will and independent thought were treated like the human appendix -- things to be done away with when they became inconvenient with little understanding of their importance, particularly in regard to the evolution of a sapient species. Unfortunately for the Borg's neighbors, any protestations made by them to that point were seen as little more than self-serving attempts to delay the Borg's concept of perfection. Varga decided it was time to explain another fallacy to the Borg.
"The other issue you face is that you overestimate your own power, while simultaneously relying upon it as the sole source of your own advancement. Species 8472 and the Federation have both defeated your plans repeatedly, and I can tell you from personal experience that they are hardly the most powerful forces you will encounter even in this universe. Frankly, you're lucky that you haven't truly disrupted any of the experiments of the higher powers in this galaxy...which is mostly because they have been distracted by other matters."
"Other matters?" prompted the queen. This was truly new information, and not just a review of previously known philosophies.
Varga began to explain in detail the nature of the galaxy, and how the evolution of the Federation had resulted in an attempt to undermine the stability of reality in this branch of space. He explained the purpose of the galactic barrier, as well as some of the oddities of space-time local to this galaxy and this universe. He also explained how many of the higher powers were expending energy and attention on keeping things going.
"Your attempts to assimilate the Federation were never going to succeed, because the consequences would have led to more powerful beings ensuring their failure...even if they had to do so retroactively." Varga strongly suspected that this is what had happened with the Borg's attempt to travel into Earth's past. It was rather suspicious to him that the Borg sphere's time portal had stayed open long enough for the
Enterprise to follow.
The Collective considered this point. This revelation was problematic. Things were happening on a larger scale than that on which the Borg operated, and it seemed as though they had been ignored solely because they were largely inconsequential to the larger picture. "Do you have supporting evidence for these assertions?" asked the queen.
"Much of it has been tacitly confirmed by the Q and the Prophets of Bajor, but I believe if you look at the events listed on this datapad, you'll be able to confirm a large quantity of circumstantial evidence that is highly suggestive," replied Varga, handing the queen a standard Federation datapad.
She took the pad, then extended a probe to interface with it and read the device. Her eyes widened as she absorbed the input. "The Q were using us to manipulate the Federation?" It was one thing to know that you were beaten by a foe. It was another thing entirely to realize that a better player was using you as a tool to achieve their own objectives, and had made sure to sabotage your efforts.
Varga nodded.
"That is an accurate way to look at it. I will also say that we have taken steps that should soon result in the elimination of a number of distractions that have been occupying both the Federation and the higher realms. They will soon be less...patient with disruptive events." In all honesty, it would probably take the Federation quite some time to become more proactive, but the same could not be said of the higher powers.
The Borg queen had been created for the purposes of communication, so her countenance reflected a being in deep thought. In the past, revelation of a significant threat would result in an immediate response, preferably one that would overwhelm their opponent. They had tried that in the past with the Federation, only to find that they had drastically underestimated their foe. Now they were learning that the Federation had been operating while figuratively blindfolded with one hand tied behind their back, and those disadvantages were soon going to disappear. Some quick calculations made it clear that the Borg would not be able to send a fleet large enough to overwhelm the Federation without stripping their current territories of defense. They had taken quite a few losses recently due to their fights with Species 8472, and the Federation was a long way away, even by transwarp. It also seemed likely that any early initial successes would soon be countered thanks to Federation ingenuity combined with subtle help from the higher powers like the Q.
The Borg also understood the concept that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, albeit their concept of "friend," was more along the lines of, "non-hostile party operating in a way that was advantageous to the Borg." An obvious strategy would be to seek out the hostile power that was currently attacking the Federation by shredding reality. There were several problems with that approach, however. One was that they had no knowledge of how to contact them. Another was that they were apparently on a level similar to the Q or the Organians...beings that had shrugged off any attempt by the Borg to communicate in the past as if they weren't worth the effort. A third, and most final problem was that this being, Varga, had essentially stated that they were already acting to counteract their plans, and seemed rather complacently confident in their ability to do so. Signing up with ally that was already on the way toward being out-maneuvered seemed...less than prudent.
The collective considered an unusual concept for them -- that of diplomacy. Unfortunately, while they had ample data on the concepts involved in negotiation and compromise, much of it suggested a certain degree of trust was necessary, if only for both parties to agree to meet. It was rather doubtful that most races in the galaxy would accept an invitation from the Borg to tea. It was also fair to say that the collective as a whole had very little experience with negotiation, having relied on threat of force to get their way in any circumstance where the immediate use of force was ill-advised. As Varga had pointed out repeatedly, gains made solely through coercion led to weaknesses that could be exploited by an enemy.
They could actively try to avoid the Federation...but that was not a long term solution. The Federation had expanded quite far in just a few centuries, and starships from the Federation had already been seen in their quadrant of the galaxy, even ignoring the intervention by the Q. That also would not keep them from tripping over the rather abnormally high number of ascended races in this galaxy, most of whom didn't limit themselves to individual sectors or quadrants. Varga himself, while not presenting himself as an ally of those beings or the Federation, clearly was willing to act in a way that was to their benefit, and the Collective strongly suspected that this contact was partially done as a test of their demeanor when presented with unpleasant facts.
The collective didn't...in fact, they couldn't...believe that the assimilation approach was doomed to failure because it was self-limiting. In theory, there would always be new species to acquire, giving them an infinite source of advancement and processing power. It was hard to deny, however, that their current implementation of that strategy had some rather significant flaws, not least of which was that they were not yet the most powerful civilization known, yet they had very little means of engagement apart from conflict. There were serious, unavoidable risks in that approach, and even a sufficiently large alliance of less-advanced races could pose a threat to them.
Finally, the queen looked up at Varga and asked, "So what would you have us do?"
"I have a number of suggestions, many of which you could easily test in a limited environment before implementing them at a broader scale," answered the reptile.
"The first thing is that you should acknowledge that your current approach to assimilation is flawed. You should pause your activities there until you have had time to assess things and adapt..."
* * * * *
The Talaxian captain was panicking. Their ship's drives were down due to a collision with unseen orbital debris, and their ship was slowly spiraling down into an uninhabited planet. They had been working desperately to try and fix things, when the appearance of a Borg cube changed the situation from an accident to a catastrophe.
"Calix," said the captain to his pilot, "is there anyway to speed our descent into the atmosphere?" Better to burn up on reentry than be assimilated, and their chance of outrunning a cube was effectively zero even if their drives had been fully functional.
"I'm sorry sir," replied the pilot. "I don't have any control right now..." He was tempted to point out that if had that much control, they wouldn't have been spiraling in to the planet in the first place, but it would have been petty under the circumstances.
"So I guess it's a race..." said the captain with a sigh.
It was a race that the Borg won. The cube soon had the Talaxian vessel in a tractor beam. The crew readied weapons to fight off the expected Borg drones...though in their hearts, they knew that resistance was futile. Thus, it was quite a surprise when the Borg cube finished pulling the ship out of danger, and then disappeared into warp.
"What in the name of the underworld just happened?" asked the pilot to nobody in particular.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Bobbi Cade was sitting in the co-pilot's chair next to her boss, the cat-woman known as Vectura. Of course, Vectura was her, "cape name," as it was explained to her by her co-workers. Vectura's world apparently was filled with superheroes, just like in comic books. Presumably, Vectura had a secret identity, though Bobbi wasn't sure how that would work unless her version of Earth had a sizable population of humanoid felines. She wasn't quite confident enough in her position on the team to ask about it, however. Instead, she asked, "Have you ever encountered any of these hunters? They were nothing but the subject of rumors and scary stories back on Earth."
"I haven't," replied Vectura. "We had movies about them back home, and I've seen some of them. I've also seen the debriefing on the ones captured by Dragon." Everybody on the ship-building side of Sineya Station knew who Dragon was. Apart from being a, "tinker," the woman was a formidable engineer. "We're not looking for them right now, though...just whatever means they use to hop universes."
"Are we sure they don't have stargates or wormhole drives?" asked Bobbi. Having seen and used both of those technologies, Bobbi had dropped her skepticism about them -- especially after they showed her the math. Of course, the math made hyperdrive calculations look like middle school algebra...at least when more than one reality was involved.
Vectura smirked, showing a fang on one side. "Their tech is only a little more advanced than Weyland-Yutani's. Not surprising, seeing as the company stole most of what they knew from the Yautja. Of course, it's not clear where the hunters get their tech, as their society doesn't seem with-it enough to support hyperdrive research."
"It could be stolen technology," said the third member of their expedition from a passenger seat. Robert Esposito was on loan from the Sineya Council on the off chance that having a magic user along could be useful. There was always a chance that whatever means used by the Yautja to move between dimensions had a mystical component, regardless of whether or not the hunters understood that aspect. "That would make them similar to the Goa'uld." Most of the Council had learned quite a lot about the alien parasites, thanks to the Jaffa in residence.
"Possible," admitted Vectura. "From what Dragon learned, though, the hunters seem to think their passages to other universes are natural phenomena, no matter how unlikely that seems."
"Cross-dimensional portals require a lot of energy," commented Bobbi. She was skeptical of Robert and his supposed profession, especially about the claims that people like Dawn Summers and Willow Rosenberg could open portals to other realities without an external power source. Svarfar and Tsol had both seemed perfectly fine with the concept, however, so she refrained from voicing her skepticism out loud.
Robert agreed with how ridiculous the energy requirements were. That's why he found both Dawn and Willow utterly terrifying. In terms of energy, if Robert was an oil-burning power plant, then Willow was a freaking neutrino-ion generator, and Dawn had blood made of pure naquadriah. It was really easy to forget that the pleasant young women were so powerful. They would be chatting normally, but then they would do something utterly astonishing as if it were an afterthought. Putting aside those thoughts, he added, "It could be projected energy, regardless of whether the portal is technological, mystical, or both. We should look for a power source."
"Even if we don't find anything, this is a good chance for you to get used to the sensor suite on these dimension skippers," said Vectura. Bobbi was still the new guy on the team. "You both could benefit from some more field time." Neither the engineer nor the mage felt the need to respond to Vectura's comment...probably wisely. As far as the Sineya Council was concerned, any field time that didn't involve a life or death battle was considered a milk run.
The pattern they were following was to jump to a spot approximately in the region of space described by the captured Yautja, then do a broad scan using the full passive and active sensors. That gave them a tremendous amount of information about local conditions. Unfortunately, most of that information tended to be along the lines of the composition of any space dust in the area, the levels of background radiation, detectable signals from things like human outposts and pulsars, and various other things that would be fascinating to a twentieth-century astronomer, but were utterly mundane to anybody used to space travel in this universe.
After four jumps, the sensors detected something unusual. They quickly maneuvered closer to the source of the odd readings. "This is very strange," said Bobbi. "It looks like there's something there, but it's really hard to find. I'm actually surprised the hunters managed to find it at all."
"According to Dragon, it was pretty much random chance...that and a certain stubborn willingness to toss themselves into a meat grinder until they figured out how to consistently get through the passage," answered Vectura.
"I'm not reading any technology nearby," continued Bobbi. "There's nothing artificial in at least a light year."
Vectura looked back at their mage. "Are you sensing anything, Robert?"
The man in question grimaced. "I'm getting...a little. You know how practitioners feel around the stargate? Well, it feels a little like that, but more...chalky? It's hard to explain."
"Do you think you could do a finding spell based on that feeling?" asked Vectura. Magic wasn't as easy to use as technology for many things, but it had some interesting abilities...including the ability to collect instantaneous knowledge over a ridiculously large area based on some mental permutations Vectura struggled to grasp...despite several attempts by Saurial to explain it in the past.
"I can, if you can bring up a map?" he agreed.
Vectura caused a holographic projection of this arm of the galactic spiral to appear. At this level, only major star clusters were visible, but the map could zoom in to greater levels of detail. Robert began an invocation, which the two passengers watched with interest (in one case) and skepticism (in the other). A ball of light formed, then zoomed out to the map and lit several areas at many points, though one point in particular was especially bright.
"Whoa," said Vectura. "That's...more than I was expecting."
"What's that bright one?" asked Bobbi.
Vectura zoomed in. "It looks like a planet closer in to the galactic core...it's outside the range that W-Y ships have been, so we don't have a lot of information about it."
"The portal trace is strongest at that location. It could be a point of origin for the portals, or a power source," said Robert.
"I'm going to call this in," said Vectura. She pulled out her mobile phone, though calling it that seemed a disservice to the device. "Hello, Metis? This is Vectura. I'm out here with the Bobs..." Both passengers winced at that nickname. "...and we've located the portal used by the hunters. Robert did some mojo and it seems like there may be a network of them, one centered on a strange planet closer in to the galactic core. I want to go check it out." There was silence while Vectura listened to the response. "Of course we'll be careful. We'll start out at maximum sensor range and move in from there." She hung up the phone. "OK, let's go take a look, right?"
Bobbi and Robert glanced at each other. Neither was particularly keen on the idea of venturing alone to a completely unknown planet that was probably the center of a massively powerful bit of alien technology. Bobbi bit the bullet, given how Vectura was her boss and Robert was just on loan. "Is that entirely safe to do by ourselves?" she asked.
"Safe?" said Vectura with a smirk. "Probably not entirely. Having said that, you're in a ship with an EDM hull that can open wormholes to other dimensions and turn invisible, and immediate help is literally just a phone call away. Plus, we have a wizard and two kickass engineers. I'm not terribly worried."
Bobbi and Robert looked at each other again, then both shrugged at the same time, prompting a shared grin. Neither one really felt qualified to be called, "kickass," but they weren't going to argue it, either.
Vectura began plotting a course toward their destination, amused at her companions' discomfort, and wondering with another smirk if this was how the Family felt all the time about the reactions of other people to their antics.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Cordelia was looking around the conference table in a room on Sineya Station at the other people in attendance. She knew Anya from Sunnydale, of course. The young ex-demon was looking especially happy ever since she accepted Xander's proposal. Cordy pointedly ignored the slight pang of regret that came up at that thought, though she admitted that she never really accepted her ex's apologies and might want to rectify that. Faith was also known, though she hadn't spent a lot of time in the slayer's company. Xander had told her that the dark slayer was honestly repentant after her time with the Mayor, and had turned herself in to serve time in jail for murder. The events leading up to the closing of the Sunnydale hellmouth were enough to make her break out and take a more active path to redemption, apparently. Both Xander and Anya had said in retrospect that it was the right call.
Spike...or William, was also there. She mostly knew him from when he was a vampire, which really meant that she didn't know him at all except as a threat. She and he had spent some time drowning their sorrows, and she had discovered that he was actually fairly intelligent, well-read, philosophical and even poetic. Luckily, there was no real spark between them, which made her more comfortable in his presence. Given her history, she wasn't sure she would be ready for romance any time in the near future...even if some of the Jaffa she had seen in passing would have turned her head back in high school. Relationships and her were pretty much unmixey.
There was a tall, pretty, blonde woman with some type of implant embedded in her face. She had entered the room, sat down, and simply introduced herself as, "Seven," which was an odd name. She was also wearing a skin-tight leather suit that showed a distinct lack of body modesty, similar to a lot of professional models that Cordy had met in Los Angeles.
The last person in the room was a dark-haired woman, also in leather, named Vala. She also hadn't said much, though she, Anya, Faith and Seven seemed to know each other. For that matter, she realized Anya and Faith were
also wearing leather. She wondered if she had missed some memo about a dress code? Was leather now the official uniform of space babes everywhere? From what she had seen from a brief check in the station library, the fashion magazines in this universe were distinctly lacking -- or maybe the library here was just more focused on demonology than the latest trends from Milan?
The meeting didn't begin until the video screen at the head of the table lit up. On screen was Metis. "Hello, people! Thank you for coming to my meeting," said the dark lizard. The people in the room returned the greeting, and Metis continued. "The reason I called you all together is that the Family is getting stretched kind of thin by trying to run around the multiverse and fix everything. I spoke to some other members of the Family, and we pretty much want to form a special operations group that we can send out to handle troublesome issues that don't merit a full Family intervention."
There were a number of surprised glances exchanged around the room. William spoke first and asked, "Why us?"
"There are several reasons. All of you bring skills to the table that would be incredibly useful when mixed and matched in different ways," explained Metis. "Cordelia and Vala have a broad range of social skills. Vala, Faith and William all have skills useful for less-than-legal matters. Vala and Seven are extremely adept at advanced technology. William and Anya have centuries of mystical experience. Anya and Cordelia are familiar with having and managing money, and both have useful organizational skills. You also all have training on how to defend yourself, and we can enhance that further where necessary."
"I was expecting to go to work for the Council?" said Faith. She wondered if Buffy and the others had decided they didn't want her help?
"I too, have other commitments. I have been quite satisfied working with Vectura in ship design," interjected Seven before Metis could respond to Faith.
Metis grinned, showing a little teeth. Most of them were used to it by now...mostly. "This is completely up to you. I've spoken with Buffy and Vectura, and convinced them, despite their protests, that making you available at least part-time would be useful, and would help keep their organizations engaged with the Family. I can also promise you that assignments won't be boring, and that you'll have a great deal of autonomy with regard to how you complete your mission objectives."
"You haven't actually answered my question," said William, prompting some confused looks from around the room. "I'm sure everybody here has got useful skills, and I'm sure you lizards could use all the help you can get, given how big the scale of your efforts are...no pun intended." Metis grinned a little at the pun anyway. "What I want to know," continued William, "is why you've picked
us in particular."
"To put it bluntly -- every single one of you has had issues in your past that can make it problematic to integrate socially with other people. Frankly, you've all had extraordinary, and in many cases horrible, past experiences. While the Nox were quite willing to say that any of you could do perfectly fine elsewhere, they also suggested that your personalities could also mesh well in this type of group," said the lizard on the screen. "For some of you, it would also give you the opportunity to...appropriately manage some of the personal relationships from your past."
"So we're the basket cases?" asked Cordelia, somewhat annoyed, despite the irony of her being annoyed by blunt honesty. She was self-aware enough to notice that, and honest enough to accept her own hypocrisy.
Metis actually laughed. "I wouldn't put it that way. Every single one of you has had experiences that have driven other people completely insane, if not catatonic. The fact that you're all functional, and beyond that, willing to contribute and even risk your safety for the sake of others, speaks to an unusual strength of character. What I'm offering is an environment in which you can all excel without having to deal with the prejudices and preconceptions of others."
"Would we have to do field work?" asked Anya. She was getting married soon, and wasn't eager to risk her life on dangerous missions.
"It would be expected...but we also expect you to have down time, and we're more than capable of enhancing any of you...even slayers and Borg, to a level that would make you extremely difficult to truly injure," replied Metis. "Some of you would also function as mission control at times, depending upon the mission and Family availability. I would expect Cordelia and Anya to do that most frequently."
"You've put a lot of thought into this, obviously. Does this special group have a name?" asked Vala.
Metis gave a broad smile, and said, "We were thinking of calling it Saurial's Angels."
Seven looked around at the reactions of most of the people in the room, apart from her and Vala. "Is there a reason for why the others appear to be in physical pain upon hearing that name?" she asked.
Nobody answered her question, although she did hear Faith mumble, "That explains why she called into the meeting instead of just coming in person..."
Vala shrugged her shoulders and said, "Must be an Earth thing."
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