Star Trek: The Next Generation
Resistance is Futile
An AU story
Set shortly after Generations. The ship was not destroyed, though there was a great loss of lives, including Commander William Riker. In this universe, there is a split race of super powerful beings, of which the Q Continuum is exiled from. And the Federation is at war with the Borg, as you will soon find out.
Captain’s Log; supplemental
I have just received word from Starfleet Command informing me of an impending visit from Admiral Virginia Hamilton. She is to arrive in a week’s time and it shall be a long week of waiting, as she is no doubt bringing orders concerning the recent development with the Borg. The War is at a stand still at present, and the next move is ours. Regardless of the circumstances, I look forward to meeting the admiral. I’d like to see if she is a formidable as reputation has her.
One week later
Captain Jean-Luc Picard waited patiently in the transporter room. Admiral Hamilton’s ship would be within transporter range in less than five minutes and after a week of waiting for this woman, those five minutes promised to go by slowly.
Behind the transporter console stood young transporter technician Abigail O’Reilly. She was a petite woman of mixed descent, given that her skin had an olive green tint to it. As she waited the confirmation signal from the USS ALBRIGHT she fidgeted with her controls and occasionally let out an unprofessional mutter.
Picard had let it go long enough, and felt the need to address the woman. “Is something wrong, ensign?” he asked evenly.
O’Reilly’s jaw firmed. “I just don’t understand some people, sir.”
“That’s hardly a cause to vent your frustrations while working. Explain yourself,” the captain ordered, fervently hoping it wasn’t a romantic issue.
“It’s just…Sir, Admiral Hamilton has the ability to transport herself from one location to another just by thinking it. Literally across the galaxy in the blink of an eye! But here she is, traveling by starship and using the transporter. Think of how much time and energy she would save Starfleet if she were to just blink herself right onto the bridge.”
“I do see your point, ensign. However, I am certain you are aware of the regulations regarding Gandraleayians, especially half-breeds, and the use of their powers.”
“Still sir, I’d much prefer she’d not have to go through my transporter room.”
“Oh?” asked Picard innocently enough, wondering whether he’d have to put the young woman on report.
O’Reilly hesitated before answering, “They say she can read minds, that she can see your entire past just like that!”
“And without meaning to,” confirmed Picard. “Even with races that prove to be unreadable to other telepaths. However, it is my understanding that it requires eye contact with the admiral.”
“I’ll make sure…” O’Reilly was interrupted by a beep from her console. “Here she is now, Captain.” With smooth motions, the young ensign transported the admiral onto the ENTERPRISE.
Although her pictures were well publicized and her agelessness well known, it still took Picard’s breath away to see the admiral in person.
Admiral Virginia Hamilton stood with straight posture and elegant poise before the two, looking little older than the 25-year-old ensign, though in fact the admiral was several hundred years old. The blue eyes that gazed at the wall over the ensign’s shoulder had seen both the Eugenics War, and WW3, as well as the formation of the Federation and the deployment of Starfleet. What treasures must lay in her memories.
“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” Picard said in greeting, a small pleased smile in place.
“Thank you, Captain,” the woman replied. Virginia stepped down from the transporter pad gracefully. She glanced quickly at the ensign, not once meeting the other woman’s eyes, saying, “It was a smooth transport, ensign. Thank you.”
“Y-you’re welcome,” O’Reilly stammered.
The Admiral looked back at Captain Picard, her eyes not quite meeting his. “Shall we go to your Ready Room, Captain?”
“Of course. This way.” Picard led her out of the transporter room and down the hall to the turbolift. Once ensconced in the privacy of the lift, and the directions to the computer to take them to the bridge given, the captain discretely studied the young looking admiral. To his eyes, she looked nervous, tense and insecure…traits that went against her bold and confident reputation. “Admiral, permission to speak freely?”
“Only if you call me Virginia,” she answered firmly. “I get so tired of being called by ranks and titles.”
“It’s not exactly proper protocol,” began Picard before remembering whom he was speaking to. “But then, you’ve always been one to stretch proper protocol to it’s limits, haven’t you…Virginia?”
“Whenever I can. Bend it, stretch it, break it.” She smiled widely. “Half the problem with Starfleet is that they have too much starch in their blood. What’s your question?”
“I am merely curious as to why you’re avoiding eye contact? It doesn’t fit with your reputation.”
Virginia’s smile took on a wry slant, but she refrained from answering as lift doors opened onto the bridge just then. The admiral did not answer until they had entered the captain’s ready room and the door had slid quietly shut behind them. “Picard…one doesn’t have to be a telepath to know that many people don’t want to have their entire history, hopes fears, and dreams known to me at a single look. Some act as though it happens every time our eyes meet…like I’m constantly trying to access them.”
He motioned for her to sit as he himself sat in his own chair. “People fear what they do not understand.”
“And sometimes we fear more what we do understand.”
“Quite,” Picard agreed. “However, I do not fear you, Virginia, or your gifts.” He smiled as the woman visibly relaxed in the chair across from him. In this room at least, she was free to be herself. “You may look me in the eye at anytime.”
She did so, and Picard watched in fascination the array of emotions that played across her beautiful face in the instant he was known to her.
“Does it hurt?” the ENTERPRISE captain asked, having felt nothing from the experience.
“Hurt? No, not…it’s just…when someone has had a traumatic experience in their recent past, and the memories are fresh…it’s sometimes hard emotionally.” Compassion and tears glittered in her blue eyes. “And ‘I’m sorry’ is often woefully inadequate to express sympathy.”
Picard didn’t answer right away. The admiral was undoubtedly referring to the time he had been assimilated by the Borg. It was not what he himself would consider ‘recent’, but when compared to a life span such as Admiral Hamilton’s, why – his very birth could be considered ‘recent’. Smiling once more, oddly trying to comfort the older woman, he said resolutely, “It is in the past.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” Virginia wiped her eyes quickly with her fingertips. Within a moment, she was again composed and this time her gaze had no trouble meeting his. “However…it makes my mission here all that much more difficult. I hate the War Council’s decision even more than I already did.”
Virginia raised her right hand, effectively cutting him off. Her voice was now tinged with anger, though clearly not directed at Picard. “I wish the entire Council could experience your assimilation as I just have. Then they would never even dream of asking someone to be assimilated. They shouldn’t anyway, but…this…is ridiculous!”
Cold horror filled Captain Jean-Luc Picard, his smile slipping away as his face became granite. “Ask someone…Who? And why?” Logically it had to be someone from his ship…one of his people.
Once again, Virginia’s blue eyes pooled with tears. “The Council has sent me to ask Deanna Troi to be assimilated in an attempt to destroy the Borg once and for all.”