The Day the Universe Changed

Despite their impending return home, the mood of the USS Voyager was grim. They had lost, through no fault of their own, a valued friend and colleague.

As Captain Janeway delivered the eulogy, Commander Chikotay tried to come to terms with the fact that Seven of Nine, the girl-come-Borg-come-woman, was no more. In her last days, weak and emaciated she had worked diligently to help integrate the Borg technology with Voyager's and it was principally because of her work that the crew was returning home. Yet, because her body had not been able to do the simplest of things -- eating…sleeping -- she had died.

A single photon torpedo casing carrying her body lanced forth from the Voyager and into the stuff of the "Between--space" which the anomaly carrying the ship was composed of. With that, the funeral was over. The crew returned to their stations. The worst part, was that as Voyager remained in its own created anomaly, rocketing home, there was relatively little to do. The watches were boring actually, with little to distract the crew from their new found grief.

It was readily apparent as Rick Hunter's transmission cut off that the SDF-3 was a complete loss. Max Sterling took one quick look at the screen and winced as uncountable numbers of Octorg converged on their position. There would be no rendezvous between the SDF-3 and the smaller GMU.

"We can't wait any longer. Begin calculations for space-fold! Go as soon as we're ready. Don't wait for my command. Just go!"

Max had little time for reverie. Soon, the now tell-tale signals of Octorg transporters began appearing all over the GMU. Max knew he had only mere seconds to react, he shouted over the increasing whine of the transporters, "Activate the Space-fold!"

Luckily, the woman at the helm did not question his order. Instead, she went against all her years of training and activated the space-fold mechanism without a trajectory calculation. By doing that, she might have doomed the entire crew to reduction to their basest elemental states…still that was better than being an Octorg drone wasn't it? Her hand turned the dial and space folded in on itself. Leaving thousands of Octorg to materialize in the deep vacuum of space.

It had taken the survivors 3 hours to cut through the Excelsior's hull. Sulu lead what was left of his ship's survivors (a number just over fifty) from the ruins of his ship. He tried to maintain as professional a demeanor as he could. He looked back at his ship.

Most of the saucer section was still intact. He could hardly tear his eyes from the tangled mass of ruined metal that had once been the engineering section. From inside the ship, they had been able to detect no life-form readings from the engineering decks. He hoped they would have more luck from the outside.

"Rand. Get a rescue party going. Sweep for any other survivors." She grabbed some volunteers and they moved aft. Ensign Tuvok briefed Sulu. "Captain. This is almost a textbook Class M world. It seems to be in its early life form development stages. Comparable to Earth's mid-Triassic period. There is ample plant and animal life. They should provide adequate food sources."

"Very well. But we'll use the ship's stores as long as we can. I want Class One protocols observed. We don't know how long we'll be here but we don't need to lose anymore crew because someone ate a cherry that turned out to be poisonous on this planet."

"Aye sir. There is something odd about the whole planet. The entire globe is drenched in chronoton particles. It's almost as if the entire body had undergone a space-time anomaly."

Sulu tore his gaze away from the swath of destruction the warp nacelles had torn into the jungle when they had broken from their moorings. "Chronoton particles? That is odd. We'll have to investigate that further. For now, let's just deal with the first order of business. Survival. See if we can get at least one of the topside phaser batteries on line. We don't know if any of those ships we fought up there are endo-atmospheric."

"Captain look!" Sulu turned his eyes in the direction his crewman was indicating. A large fiery ball was burning its way across the sky. "A meteor?" the crewmember asked.

"I don't think so…if I didn't know better I'd say it was trying to steer. Better double our efforts on getting one of the ship's batteries on line. These hand phasers aren't going to do much against whatever is coming down."

When space unfolded itself, Max had little time to figure out where the Ground Mobile Unit had wound up. And even less time to defend himself. Apparently, he hadn't been fast enough at activating the fold. Some Octorg drones had in fact made it aboard. The drone nearest Max stabbed at him with its assimilation probe. Max narrowly dodged out of the way. The Octorg probe stabbed into the GMU's navigation console -- the nanites flooded out and began modifying the ship's circuitry. Max grabbed for the dagger that he kept at his side, the one that his wife Myria had given him so long ago. He slashed outward and cut a hose on the Octorg drone. Vital fluids geysered forth. The Octorg drone kept advancing but the hose was more important than even it believed. And soon it was evident even to Max that the drone was going to die.

It was only then that Max recognized the drone as the Enterprise's first officer, Commander Riker. It still didn't cause him a moment's hesitation as he stabbed the drone in the throat.

Wallart didn't like this space-folding business one bit. He tried to concentrate on his work. He was trying to mount Robotech solid rocket motor units to his Battlemechs. The Robotech people told him that one of their common tactics was to deploy their 'Mecha' while the main ship was still airborne. Wallart had seen the maneuver done before, but always by much lighter mechs. A HALO jump with an ATLAS had to be up there somewhere with suicide. Wallart promised himself he would only attempt the maneuver as a last option. He didn't like the idea of jumping airborne with a hundred ton mech very much, but he liked the idea of not having any options even less.

His work was interrupted by a burst of heavy machine gun fire. "Damn, we never get a break do we?"

He leapt off the ladder assembly he was using and grasped his side-arm. He yelled at some Robotech workers, "What the hell is going on now?"

The Robotech people were already shooting at the dozens of Octorg drones who were materializing all over the hangar bay. Their energy weapons bounced harmlessly off of the Octorg's adapted shielding. Wallart fired with his side arm, a light machine pistol. It chewed right into the drones, knocking their carcasses back.

He called to his men, what was left of what was once a proud mech company, "C'mon! It looks like the Inner Sphere has something to bring to this fight after all. Pour it into 'em boys!"

Max straddled one of the last Octorg drones and drove the palm of his hand into the pommel of his dagger, driving the blade deeper through the sternum plate of the unfortunate drone. It gave one last shuddering gasp as the dagger's blade burst its heart. Max rolled off of it, propped his foot on its chest and used the leverage to pry his dagger free. He whirled around and surveyed the bridge. The battle was over. His crew had won. But at a price. The corpses of more dead crewmembers littered the bridge -- their half-assimilated bodies a testament to their pain-wracked last seconds.

Yet they weren't being overwhelmed. Max had ordered the space-fold in time. He allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction. Then reports began pouring in from all over the GMU. Hand to hand fighting had broken out over the whole of the ship. But the GMU's crew was slowly but surely winning. Max wiped his bloodied brow. "Come on. We need to help people on the lower decks. We don't want to win the bridge but lose the rest of the ship!" He addressed one woman who was nursing a wounded arm. "Stay here and keep me informed of the status. I'll make it back if I can."

The bridge fighting crew, armed with a hodge-podge of improvised weapons opened the blast-doors to the bridge and began fighting their way to the lower decks."

The unnatural clearing surrounding the crushed hull of the Excelsior became a triage center for the wounded survivors of the engineering substructure. Some thirty in all had been recovered before fires and coolant leaks had rendered the engineering section too dangerous to proceed into without the appropriate gear.

It had been three hours since the meteor had fallen and nothing had yet come of it. Sulu began to relax. Then he felt the ground shudder…one…twice….a pattern. He switched on his tri-corder. Its chirping activation sound was mimicked by his science officer's as he snapped his on and the two began a regional scan.

"I'm beginning to pick up a massive life-form reading. Two more. These are big…35 maybe even 40 tons."

He checked his tri-corder…400 yards away. "Battlestations…phasers on kill." Not the standard Starfleet protocol but Sulu wasn't going to take any chances.

Max was a good knife fighter by any standards. Yet even the best fighters have their limits. And Max was getting tired. He had long since lost count of how many drones he had personally killed, let alone his little party he had led from the bridge. He had suffered more losses but considering the odds, they were still faring quite well.

He heart began to beat faster as he neared yet another blind corner. He readied himself and rounded the corner. The sight he saw sickened him. Twenty or thirty Octorg were busy assimilating fallen members of his crew…and in some cases rending parts of them off to replace the Octorgs' missing limbs. The Octorg drones saw Max and began advancing on them. Max knew he didn't stand a chance. His grip on his dagger increased along with his determination to kill as many of them as he could before he too was assimilated.

Just as the battle was to be joined. Max caught a glimpse of some people on the other end of the hallway. They would hit the Octorg from behind! He recognized them as the 'Mechwarriors' they had picked up earlier. The men yelled at him. "Get out of the way!"

Max and his party really didn't need all that much encouragement. They dove back into the side passage that had led them to the hallway in the first place and then were rewarded with the harsh chattering barks of the Mechwarriors automatic weapons. In seconds, the Octorg drones were composed of considerably more metal than flesh, and they lived no longer.

Max peeked around the corner. The Mechwarriors were sweeping the hall, executing some of the poor souls who had been injected with the Octorg nanites. The one named Wallart called him, "Commander. I think that's the last of them. These machine-guns make short work of them. I took the liberty of sending out a couple of parties to the scour the ship. If there are any more we'll find 'em and give them a quick end."

Max was about to thank him when his communicator beeped. It was a message from the bridge. "Sir, I'm detecting a massive hyperspace-fold."

"Damn," Max thought aloud, "the Octorg have found us. Looks like we're dead after all."

"No sir. This is a localized signature. Very concentrated. Not like the Octorg signature at all."

Where it had taken them hours to fight their way down from the bridge it took merely a few cautious minutes of weaving between the huddled survivors to get back to the bridge. The blast doors sealed themselves behind them as a precaution. Everyone in the bridge party returned to their stations.

"I'm having trouble interfacing with the ship's computers. The Octorg nanites are still trying to assimilate the controls. We're losing the ship. Bit by bit." A bridge officer explained.

Max ignored the statement. There was nothing he could do about that now. "What about the space-fold?"

All eyes on the bridge focused on the area in question. They all saw the pale blue shimmering of the hyperspace jump gate swirl open. Then they saw hundreds of spacecraft -- unfamiliar in design -- stream forth. Max didn't know whether to shudder in dread or feel relief. He didn't know if these new craft were enemies or allies.

In seconds it didn't matter. They saw the stars begin to shimmer and then be obscured as thousands of black spider-like tentacled ships made themselves apparent and drenched the oncoming newcomers in considerable energy beams -- picking them apart. Friend or foe, the newcomers had stepped into a dreadful trap and they would pay for it with their lives.

"What the hell is that!" Wallart shouted over the din, covering his ears with both hands.

Max shouted back at him, "It means we're caught in the planet's gravity well. With the ship's controls incapacitated we have no way to escape. We're going in!" He gave orders to his crew. "Order all hands to abandon ship. Launch all the escape pods. As soon as we hit atmosphere, we'll try to slow down with 'S' turns. At that time, I want all Mecha and Destroids to deploy. We'll try to regroup on the planet." He turned to Wallart, "That goes for our Inner Sphere friends too."

On the bridge of the Agamemnon, Sheridan stared out at the swirling colors that represented hyperspace. He knew the colors didn't really exist. They were just his brain's way of interpreting the nothingness that lay between the stars. The first wave was ahead of his task force by fifteen minutes. The third wave was fifteen minutes behind him. The timing was designed so that one wave could serve to reinforce the other and in doing so catch the enemy off guard.

But there was a drawback, each wave would not know the fate of the other until they cleared the jump gate. By then reaction time would be cut down to micro-seconds. Sheridan remembered an old adage, Every plan is the perfect plan until it comes into contact with the enemy.

His crew would have to react on the fly. Think on their feet. They were good at that. He glanced at his crew, especially Ivanova who he'd come to rely on so heavily recently. She stood on the bridge resolute. A rock. Her hair pulled back to reveal her strong patrician Russian features. She was born warrior, she wouldn't admit it. But that's what she was.

His thoughts drifted to Delenn. He wished she could be at his side. But she had her own duties commanding the Minbari contingent of the fleet. Even the Narn and Centauri had set aside their differences for this sortie into the Shadow-held territory of Z'ha'dum. Sheridan wondered if he would ever see the Babylon station again.

It was the only thing anyone had said for the last ten minutes, and when she spoke most of the crew jumped. Jarred out of their collective reveries by the sound of her voice. Sheridan thought the same thing they all thought.

'Till what? Five minutes until the ultimate victory? Or five more minutes to live?

"See you planet-side!" The Phoenix-Hawk pitched out of the open hangar door and past the hull of the GMU, still red-hot from the recent re-entry into the planet's atmosphere. Wallart remarked to himself how two completely unconnected societies could develop technologies so similar to one another. In one of their configurations…Battloid mode he thought they called it…the Robotechnology Veritech fighter looked identical to the Phoenix-Hawk.

He broke his line of thinking as the Phoenix-Hawk plunged down towards the planet surface. Wallart maneuvered the Atlas towards the door. The massive mech's footing was uncertain on the unstable deck of the plummeting GMU. He looked down. The enormous Atlas looking, to an outside observer, much like an over-large thrill jumper having second thoughts.

He was still kilometers up. If the SRMUs didn't work he wouldn't even have to worry about it. He'd be a crater. Defining features began to break through the atmospheric haze. He could see lakes, mountains, and wide forests. In the distance, he could see a large swath of destruction, still bounded on its sides by brush fires. It was the unmistakable sign of a spacecraft crash from orbit. Wallart had seen it before and usually at the end of the great fire lines -- pointing like an arrow to their source -- would be a dropship. Only this was much bigger. Another ship had crashed here. Wallart was sure of it. But he had no time to think about that now.

To his right a Robotech Excalibur toppled outward. Its top-heavy configuration causing it to tumble slowly as it fell. He only hoped the pilot's rockets would be able to right the Destroid before it hit. He wondered if the same thing would happen to the Atlas. He took one last look at the scenery. Then against all sanity he pushed the throttle forward.

The 100-ton Atlas plunged downward and also began to tumble. The disorientation in his stomach from the fall and the roll threatened to make him throw up. And even a proud mechwarrior such as he, knew a little fear when sky-diving in a 100-ton walking tank from 14 kilometers above the planet.

The first of the colossal dinosaurs smashed into the clearing surrounding Excelsior. The crew didn't even hesitate. Phasers tore into the giant beast and the surrounding jungle. Even as the beams superheated the beasts flesh to its flashpoint, Sulu couldn't help but be amazed at the primal strength and speed of the creature.

Two more burst from the jungle. The first paused for a moment, nipped at the flank of its fallen comrade, then followed the second towards the Excelsior. More phaser fire. It took a little longer but the result was the same. More charred flesh.

"Ensign Tuvok, please tell me we didn't kill the last three dinosaurs in the universe in self-defense."

Tuvok scanned the carcasses. "Sir, these appear to be very-like the Earth species Carcaradontosaurus, not unlike the infamous Tyranosaurus Rex species. A large predatory carnivore. They appeared to be exhibiting pack-hunting behavior, so I therefore seriously doubt that they were the only three on this planet."

Sulu nodded. Tuvok continued, "Which brings up two major concerns sir. The first, is that we now have a considerable amount of meat which has been felled in close proximity to what we would make our camp and our triage center. To such highly evolved predators such as these, the scent will carry for kilometers. We are without a doubt going to have more company. The scent of the wounded undoubtedly brought these three here. But these were predators…the scavengers will also come."

"We must evacuate this site. I recommend making for the high ground over there. It will make a good vantage point from which to see any other predators and also will serve to help us send a beacon should rescue become an option."

"All right. But that's a lot of jungle to cut through between here and there. I suppose it won't be that hard with phasers."

"That brings me to my second concern sir. I noticed an almost imperceptible drop in the phaser strength during the attack."

Tuvok knew how useless an argument against guessing could be when dealing with humans. He gave the captain his best estimate. "Phasers and other equipment which use power cells will be useless in two hours. Three at the most."

"And you suggest that we leave our secure shelter in favor of the carnivore-laden jungle…with no effective weapons?"

"Yes sir. Those predators may or may not find us in the jungle, but they are sure to find us here."

Sulu let his indignation drop a bit. "Don't worry Mr. Tuvok, I agree with you. But I don't have to like it."

Wallart knew that the Atlas was going to hit hard. And it didn't disappoint him. The rocket motors fired at the right time and worked perfectly but the mech still came down violently. If he hadn't been wearing his helmet he would have surely been knocked unconscious.

One by one, his team checked in. Victor's Phoenix-Hawk had come down unscathed. Jason's Oscout had suffered minor leg damage. Ferrow's Archer had come down on the edge of a boulder. One of her LRM 20 launchers was irreparably damaged. Ferrow wouldn't risk using it unless the mech was already a complete loss.

"This is Inner Sphere Lance Leader Wallart to any Robotech forces. Do you read?"

"….allert read you….crease the gain….we are suffering…unexpla….loss of power….protocult…."

"….scattered….veritechs powering down….. ology failing…. extravehicular…."

Wallart then heard what might have been screaming. It sent a chill down his spine. But it could just have easily been static or interference from an ionized atmosphere. And yet his own comm was working fine.

It must be the differences in technology. He didn't really believe that but he consoled himself with that thought.

He activated his 'beagle' probe. His lance had all landed within a couple of miles of one another. That's because we pretty much dropped like rocks. The Robotech craft, much more aerodynamic, and some of them flying under their own power had come down spread out over a hundred miles. It would take days for them to regroup. As it was, Wallart only spotted four of the Robotech Mecha on the very limits of his scope -- and they looked powered down for some reason. He decided to try one last transmission.

"If anyone can hear me. I saw a downed ship on the horizon when we were coming down. It looked to be about 20 or 30 miles away. We're going to make for that to render and to receive assistance. If any of you can hear me try to meet us there." There was no response.

He switched frequencies again, "Lance. Move out to these coordinates. I think there's a downed ship there. Victor. Keep trying to raise the Robotech guys. Your mech is the most similar to theirs so hopefully you'll get through."

"Boss this is Mavrick. I can't bring any of my energy weapons on line. Looks like the LRMs still work ok, but everything else is experiencing a power drain."

"I know. I've got it too. I think its what our Robotech friends might have run into. Let's hope it doesn't affect our power plants. Now let's move out. Standard formation and stay sharp. We've got a lot of ground to make up and through these Heavy Woods it will take us twice as long."

Wallart eased the throttle forward, and the outsized mech lumbered clumsily through the dense jungle.

Failing to heed his own advice, Wallart failed altogether to notice the mounds of upchurned dirt that followed the vibrations his mech was making; the upwellings of disturbed earth, which heralded of some mammoth burrower beneath. His lance mates failed to notice their followers as well.

They had just gotten all the wounded onto litters and stretchers, and were about to set out from the Excelsior when the first of them struck.

The tiny chicken-sized scavengers entered the clearing at first. Their heads bobbing up and down as they cautiously probed the clearing. Tuvok scanned them, "Small scavenging carnivores, similar to the procompnathids of the Jurassic period. They are no threat to us. They will probably head for our dead."

That is exactly what they did. They bee-bopped into the triage area and began to nibble and tear at the dead. Rand stepped towards them and fired off a couple of phaser blasts.

"Commander. I suggest you save those phaser charges for the living rather than on the preservation of the memory of the dead. They will go the way of all flesh and it is neither practical nor logical. My calculations show that my initial estimates were wrong and that the phasers will not last more than a half an hour if that. I suggest we get moving."

Rand glared at Tuvok. Sulu intervened, "No one likes to see the bodies of our friends defiled. But we really don't have a choi….Rand lookout." A rustling in the brush behind Rand was Sulu's only warning. A five-foot tall speeding creature burst outward as if it materialized from the jungle itself. Sulu fired but already his blast was too late. The thing had leapt into the air and came crashing down into Rand's back. Its terrible claws rending the flesh all too easily. But Rand never felt a thing. The creature's jaws had come down on the back of her neck simultaneously as it struck her. And in one swift bite it had severed her spine and bit so deeply into her neck that her head was almost severed.

Sulu's second blast caught the creature in its chest and it reeled backwards engulfed in flames.

Tuvok quickly glanced at it, "A Raptor sir. Deinonychus I believe, and if I'm not mistaken, I'm led to believe they were pack hunters."

Sulu didn't need to hear any more. "Run!" he ordered his crew. But already the jungle was bursting forth with myriads of the creatures. Survival instinct took over in the Excelsior's crew members. Those pulling litters or carrying stretchers dropped their charges to save themselves. Phaser blasts went everywhere setting dinosaur and jungle alike ablaze with countless fires.

Sulu was so intent on fighting the raptors he hardly noticed the tremors in the ground. They were growing more severe and growing in frequency as well. He realized what they were when four of the large Carcharadontosaur dinosaurs crashed through the jungle and entered the scene of carnage. He fired back at a near dinosaur, but his phaser had lost so much charge he might as well have shot at it with a laser pointer.

He dodged between two trees. The larger dinosaur turned and Sulu saw it snatch up another member of his crew and bite the man cleanly in half. It swallowed the man's torso almost as it bit him and the action flung the man's legs yards away where the raptors and procompnathids battled for it.

Sulu felt a large impact in front of him that almost knocked him to the ground. In front of him a small steel wall had come crashing down into the jungle. He ran up to it, pressed his back against it and struggled to switch his phaser's powerpack. Maybe he could get a shot or two off with one of the other power cells. As he toiled to change out the power cell, he became vaguely aware that the dinosaur chasing him had stopped.

That's when Sulu glanced upward and realized for the first time that he was not leaning against a metal wall, but against the foot of some monstrous robot which bristled with weapons. A cannon mounted in its torso began to spin to the necessary revolutions per minute. It fired.

The noise threatened to burst Sulu's eardrums. He looked at the damage it had wreaked. The single cannon burst had rendered a mockery of the jungle and the dinosaurs nearby. They were all a tangled muddle of wood, flesh, blood, and branches.

Sulu looked back up at the thing that had saved his life and his engineer's mind, struggling for a sense of order in the chaos, noticed that some humorless designer had given the robot a death's head for a face.

Wallart's Atlas crashed through the jungle. The Atlas's immense leg actuators made short work of any foliage in his way. He could see dozens of creatures scrambling underfoot, trying to escape the resolute footfalls of the mighty BattleMech. They were almost at the crash site. Wallart tuned his scanners to higher sensitivity. He could see some infantry on the ground tending to the wounded. He switched to infra-red.

He gasped as he saw hundreds of red blobs moving with unbelievable speed towards the crash site.

"Those crash victims are going to get massacred. Let's see if you can give them a hand huh? Victor you can make it there fastest. Go!"

Seconds later, Wallart saw the Phoenix-hawk bound forward, its jump-jets allowing it to traverse yards of jungle as Victor hopped the mech towards the crash sight. Despite the risk of falling, Wallart brought the Atlas to a run. He already knew he would be too late. He could already see the energy weapons of the beleaguered crash survivors. He had been in bad situations like that himself and he knew that for every stray beam he saw arc toward the sky, it meant someone else had fallen. He was seeing entirely too many beams fire into the evening sky.

He could see the smaller blobs herding the people toward a dozen or so large infrared blobs. He switched back to normal sighting. He was close enough he should be able to see the things normally now. His eyes almost bugged out of his head. He could swear he was looking at dinosaurs!

He had read about them in books about ancient Terra, but he never dreamed he would see one. They were huge! Slightly bigger than a Jenner, the creatures were remarkably agile and fast.

He parked his Atlas in the path of the larger dinosaurs. Several humans clustered around his mech, trying to take shelter in the Atlas's impressive shadow. He brought his medium lasers to bear.

Without thinking, he instinctively switched to his alternate trigger. Fired. The belching scream of the AC-20 caught him by surprise, but he guided the stream of rounds into his targets. The AC-20 ammunition was seeded so that every tenth round was a tracer. The cannon fired so quickly that it looked as if a single tongue of laser-precise fire was spilling out from the barrel and smiting bathing everything it touched in a purifying fire. Even Wallart was amazed at the damage a single burst had caused. The AC-20 had been designed to strip the armor off even the most powerful of Battlemechs. Here he had used it against mere flesh and bone. Where before a dinosaur-ridden lush jungle had stood, there now was a burned swath of mutilated bio-matter that stretched for two-hundred yards.

He activated his loudspeaker. "People! Make for that small hill! We will cover you!"

Almost instantly the people began to move, scrambling to stay ahead of the Battlemechs. To the left he saw a LRM-20 pack of missiles slam into the side of the hill, making slivers of the colossal trees that had stood there. The second pack of LRMs went wild, skyrocketing into the air.

Wallart whirled the Atlas around. He torso-twisted just in time to see the lead tentacles of the Cthonian burst from the ground and immobilize his mech. He fired the AC-20 into the ground. The rounds chewing up and churning the earth like it was liquid…but he couldn't get a good angle.

The Cthonian's head burst from the ground and its star-shaped maw parted as it belched forth an evil slime. The slime melted the Atlas' legs right out from under it. And in seconds the tentacles had a firm hold of the melting 100-ton mech and snatched it back into the grisly orifice. Seconds later, the Atlas, and everything with it, was already digested.

Sheridan was gripping the command seat so hard his knuckles had turned white. Ivanova, her voice so calm Sheridan knew it was forced, kept calling out the time until em

ergence from the jumpgate.

The blue swirling flare of the jump-gate receded around them and nothing could have prepared them. Sheridan knew at a glance that even if they had jumped all three waves at the same time, they would have still been annihilated. He realized that the wreckage and debris of the first wave was the only thing keeping the second wave from total oblivion.

His first thought was to send a ship back into the jump-gate to warn the third wave. But the Shadows echelons had closed behind them cutting off any hope of escape. The trap was complete. They would all die here.

Except, even as his gunners blew holes into the massive ranks of the Shadows, the Agamemnon's sensors were picking up another fleet jumping in on the other side of the planet.

The collective Imperial and New Republic fleets dropped out of hyperspace in complete confusion. Something was very wrong. Everyone's sensors picked up the horrendous battle ongoing on the far side of the planet. They did not go unnoticed either. Already, legions of Shadow vessels were peeling off from their murder to welcome the new arrivals.

"What happened? We've been pulled out of hyperspace!" Ackbar barked from the command chair of the Defiance.

"It's the planet sir. Its gravity well is much larger than a planet of its size should be! And sir! It appears we've been drawn trillions of parsecs off course!"

"Admiral Ackbar. I trust that your crew has come to the same conclusion as mine has. We have decided to deploy our fighters and do battle with these new hostiles. I intend to give them a lesson in Imperial diplomacy."

"I advise against it Admiral Thrawn! We are grossly outnumbered and this is not our fight. I intend to make for the edge of the gravity well and jump clear of the system."

"Our calculations show that these craft will be upon you long before you clear the gravity well, which was no doubt the intention of their trap. A well laid plan on their part. As for us, the Imperial Navy is not accustomed to running. We shall take the offensive. That way we have control of our own destiny. That way we have a chance."

"I still think our best chance lies in escape. We will deploy our snub-fighters. They are outfitted with hyperspace capability and need not be stranded. Good Luck Admiral."

The hologram faded away. The two admirals, each competent in his own way, had no way of knowing that they were both awfully wrong. Neither of them stood a chance.

Tuvok did his best to brief the crew of the Voyager. They weren't taking the news at all well. Paris did little to hide the hostility in his voice, "You mean you knew this thing wasn't taking us home and you didn't say anything! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Janeway intervened, "That's enough Paris. I'm sure that Commander Tuvok has a very logical rationale behind his actions." She turned to Tuvok, "Well?"

"I cannot, as of yet, give you a full explanation that you would be satisfied with. But I wish to make it known that the outcome of our travel would be the same. It is, as it were, fated."

"Nor do I. Nevertheless, it is so. When we emerge from warp, nothing will be able to prepare you for what you will see and experience. You will struggle to retain your sanity. If we are to survive you all must follow my instructions exactly. The slightest deviation and we will be lost. Captain Janeway, I am not attempting to usurp your command. I will carry on my plan only with your expressed permission."

"All right Tuvok, out of morbid curiosity I will allow your request. The ship is yours. Now start talking."

Sulu and his crew….what was left of his crew…reached the crest of the hill. They had watched in horror as their would be saviors were swallowed and digested before their very eyes by horrid things that were pouring forth from the earth. Now they huddled together unsure of what course to take. Sulu looked around. Only eight of them had made it to the hill. Out of his entire crew, only eight.

Despair welled up inside him. He felt like he wanted to quit and just let whatever horrid things was going to eat him hurry up and be done with it. Tuvok took the lead, the Vulcan's constitution and mental training had left him better suited to take the lead.

"There are structures in front of us. It is best if I scout up ahead. I will return with a report of what I will have discovered."

"Bad idea Mr. Tuvok," Sulu gasped for breath. He hadn't run that far and that fast for a long time. "We don't need to split up now. What little safety we have, we have in numbers."

The party crept forward. When the wind shifted, they could hear the surreptitious beat of tom-toms pounding out a primitive and staccato rhythm. They moved closer.

"Looks like they're having a party." Sulu referred to a hundred or more figures who danced about a large bonfire adorned with the bodies of creatures from a recent hunt.

"Reptilian evolved hominids. Undoubtedly primitive, but they may accept a form of barter in exchange for food and protection."

One of the men whispered, "I don't think that's a good idea. Look at what they were hunting."

Sulu glanced at the smoking carcasses more closely and realized that they were in fact human. Ripped of skin and muscles the carcasses swayed slightly in the wind above the fire as the horrid leaping figures danced about and beat furiously on their drums. Some of the bodies still twitched.

"Damn. Now what….I don't believe it." Sulu was staring across the clearing at two figures who were crossing the clearing in his direction. He was not sure who the first one was, but the second was unmistakably Captain James T. Kirk.

Sulu began to run towards him. He vaguely heard Tuvok call him back. He became dimly aware that the tom-toms took on a new frenzied beat. And then he saw IT!

A living blasphemy to everything Sulu held dear. An abomination…a miscreation…an affront to order and everything sane. It burst forth from its crypt where it waited dreaming for thousands of millennia. And Sulu blacked out. But he went stark raving mad first.

When Voyager went to back to impulse it was exactly as Tuvok had explained only infinitely worse. Nothing could have prepared them. Tuvok sat at the helm of Voyager and adeptly piloted the craft between the hordes of spacecraft engaged in mortal combat. He streaked by dozens of snub-fighters who were fighting only because they had nothing better to do between now and dying. He streaked toward the planet and somehow, as impossible as it might seem, the Voyager made it into Z'ha'dum's atmosphere relatively unscathed.

Great Cthulhu battled with the tiny figure that had wounded it. He had retreated into the shelter of the inner hidden passages of R'lyeh and had snatched the figure. Now they battled in earnest. Each dealing the other paranormal blows that would level mountains if they were physically rendered. But Cthulhu knew that with every passing moment his amorphous bulk grew stronger. His old strength was returning. Then something intruded into Cthulhu's thoughts…it was the mode of speech of his kind and it had been so long that Cthulhu had almost forgotten what it was like, having only spoken to the most sensitive of degenerate mammals for untold millions of years. The thought burst into him again. Strong. Sure.

Then Great Cthulhu knew bliss. For he knew his brother had come! He had enjoyed the battle with this powerful puny being for a moment. Revelled in the fury that came with a fight. But now he had no time for that. There were rituals to be done! The time was at hand.

In space, all hope was lost as billions of Octorg craft coalesced around the planet and began to destroy everything in their path. The lucky were closest to them when they materialized and perished quickly.

Tuvok intently dove the Voyager through the atmosphere. Klaxons and alarms blared everywhere on the bridge. The inertial dampeners protested as Tuvok put the ship through maneuvers the designers had never dreamed of. But he found what he was looking for, lifesigns. He gave the order.

"Energize now!" Tuvok didn't wait for an answer. They would've had only one shot anyway. He began the ascent trajectory.

"Six Starfleet personnel. They're in old uniforms and look pretty beat up but they'll be okay….um…Captain…one of them is Ensign Tuvok."

The light bulb went off over Chikotay's head. "So that's how you knew what would happen."

Tuvok was too intently steering the ship to respond. That's when they saw the Octom fleet.

Tuvok spoke first, "I had not foreseen this. It will make our escape more difficult."

But already there was a hole forming in the Octom ranks and Tuvok made directly for it. There was just one ship in his way…and as they neared it they recognized the unmistakable battle pock-marked silhouette of the Imperial Super Star Destroyer Vindicator.

Then the slaughter really began. It was a massacre to make all other events pale into insignificance. It was a bloodbath that, should any survive, would not be forgotten in all the annals of the multiverse. The Vindicator glowed with unnatural radiance dragging behind it a cloak of utter nothing. Wiping clean the areas it touched and flooding them with unadulterated chaos. Temporal boundaries offered it no more resistance than the physical. And on the bridge of the Vindicator, no longer masked in the veil of the Emperor Palpatine, Nyarlathotep stood and screamed, "Azathoth! Azathoth! Blood and Souls for my lord Azathoth!" Somehow all could hear him.

There was great tear in the fabric of space-time and blathering idiot-thing that was Azathoth clawed its way in from the other side and began to feast.

Thus it was when the stars came right. Thus it was that the Old Ones and Elder Gods began their war a new. And thus it was that the forces of darkness vanquished all and knew victory.

As is wont, in their arrogance, the forces of evil had forgotten one insignificant being who had been given the key to their destruction……