Stellar_Magic

You are... A Bad Samaritan.

Well there is a second approach which few people use in the game, I've only used it a couple of times. First off I'll ask you some questions... 1. Is it more efficient to build 10 shipyards on one planet or 1 shipyard on ten planets? 2. Is it riskier to have 10 shipyards on one planet or 1 shipyard on ten planets? The answers may surprise you. 1. Because production times are simply the amount of refined material divided by the processing capacity of the shipyards on the planet you can build 10 ships in the time it took to build one at that planet -But- while they may be individually battle ready in more time those ten shipyards scattered across ten worlds can build the same number. It's just that they'll all be launched at about the same time and be scattered. 2. By building 10 shipyards at one planet you've made that world extremely important strategically, against a human opponent this also makes it risky. Loss or blockade of the world could be a damaging blow to your war machine. Fortunately you can concentrate your forces in defense of world and hold it in most situations. Conversely the decentralized and scattered nature of the second option is both beneficial and a detrimate. Loosing one or even a number of planets will not deliver a stunning blow to your strategic resources, you'll still be able to produce ships. On the other hand you can't possibly deploy your forces across all those worlds and expect to repel an assault. If you're weak a decentralized structure is the way to go because it will allow you to loose worlds without being knocked out of the game, if you have the upper hand centralization may be you best bet.

Sounds good. Evaders gets to replace Palpy! Trej or maybe JI should take Vader's Place... Rebels. Cain should be Luke, Bad Samaritan should be Solo, Dinochick could be Leia, and I've got no clue who should replace Mon Mothma.

Well if they can have TIE bombers do a bombing run, why not a VSD?

Unless the Death Star itself is considered a hero unit...

The Galactic Conquest Scenario is the Scenario mode (At the very least with 2 planets, one for each side), what you're talking about would be more along the lines of a single skirmish map or two (Space and Ground). Instead of a true Galactic Conquest Scenario.

Mods are your best hope. Also looking at the model for the VSD, am I the only one that thinks its the Victory II Model?

Dark Nest... Time for a bookburning!!!

...5783782091903994.... Signal Established... INTEL REPORT: The target commonly known as Zoot *Hereafter to be represented by the Codename Fuball* was last sited near Yellowstone National Park. Since then Furball has disappeared, it is possible that his disappearance is related to the unusual seismic activity in recent... AAAHHH!!!! Get it off me, it bites! It Bites! ...SIGNAL LOST...

Stellar appears with a company of Raporan infantry and smiles at BS... Boo!

OR make both the Death Stars normal units that can be destroyed by mass capital ship assault. Theoretically that would have been possible. I may also be possible to assign the Trench Run Abilty to any Starfighter Squadron through modding thus enabling you to launch a massed starfighter attack, at least on the DS1 anyway.

Massed fleet attack on the DSII would be able to take it out, but with Extremely Heavy Casualties. (Just think about how big the Fleets got in NJO, the Yuuzhan Vong fielded something on the order of 4,000 combat ships in the last batte.)

Well I'll probably have some modifications of the D20 system just cause... parts of it don't work all to well in Rapora Wars. As for a PhP version, I'll see if I can assemble one, but that may be out of my league.

I think it be most likely that an AT-AT spawns troops for free but there is a limit to how many troops can be deployed per AT-AT. Also, just think what would happen if the Imperial TIEs did cost pop points, the Rebel Fighter Squadrons would constantly be up against Imperial TIEs one on one and in that scenario the TIEs are Screwed.

Any advice on that front?

Nope, Spawned units don't count against the pop cap...

Enjoy it? Here's part 1 of the Sequeal, IMPS-The Relentless http://impstherelentless.com/tek9.asp?pg=chapter1 Look out Lucasfilm, you've got competition!

Not yet, I'm still working on the stats. I'll post them once I'm finished.

Its Rapora BS, and I've been compiling D20 stats for their return in the RPG threads. We'll actually have a real RPG to base it off of.

Talk about what you think of Shattered Space and Star Trek vs Star Wars in general. No flaming, I've tried to be fair with my portrayal by giving both sides advanatages.

Star Trek vs. Star Wars: In Pursuit of Profit Part I In space there was nothing, no life, no form, just an infinitely of vacuum. With one exception, a single ship waited in the night. Its hull dark and gleaming, its engines silent, and its occupants quiet and patiently awaiting for something, something that was imprinted on their minds like commandments from the creator. They awaited prophet. The ship’s crescent form and red brown hull had been smoothed and ground to a brilliant polish at lavish expense. The vessel’s portals covered with shades to keep the light of its activity from escaping out into space. Its shield system configured to jam any sensor sweep. Onboard the captain’s patience was only just beginning to run thin. He’d been waiting there for days at the rendezvous point, and yet their partner had not yet arrived. The Ferengi Captain clacked his teeth in frustration as he leaned back in his plush new chair, “Sensors, nothing new?” “Negative Captain Tron, we’re still completely alone.” “I hope it remains that way, the Federation has been breathing down my neck of late.” Tron shook his head and glanced back at the display, “The Federation continues to try and infringe on my profits.” Suddenly there was a chime from the sensor display and Tron shook his head, “Please tell me that our partner has finally arrived.” “I don’t think so captain, the sensors just recorded a neutrino burst…” Tron shrugged, “Where’s the source?” “Everywhere sir, I’m picking it up in every direction… Sensors are starting to clear…” The Sensor officer looked up and shook his head, “Star positions have changed, not all of them, and… there’s another ship out there.” The Ferengi Captain straightened, “Well, then bring it up on the viewscreen…” “Yes Captain…” Suddenly the screen before the captain changed, resolving itself to display a shi, an enormous vessel, larger then a romulan warbird. Before him was an enormous circular vessel, which contained a central bulb where it’s center had been hollowed out. The circle was broken in what Tron assumed to be the front of the ship and a pair of enormous bays was clearly visible to each side of the opening. Captain Tron stood there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing in astonishment, “Well that certainly isn’t the ship we were waiting for.” A slight smirk slid over his face, “But, I think there may be the opportunity for profit here none the less.” * * * Viceroy Nute Gunray frowned as the quiet rap of a droid’s hand echoed in his private chamber. Frowning, or as close to frowning as his alien face could manage, he climbed out of the bath of green algae he’d been enjoying and walked over to the door. It slid open as he approached and the droid captain stood before him, “Viceroy, sir.” Nute Gunray rumbled a quiet curse to himself, “Yes Captain.” “There is a situation that requires your attention; an unknown ship is hailing us.” The Viceroy’s clear eyelids slid across his eyes in his species reflexive expression of surprise. He glanced at the droid before turning back to his room’s flat screens, “Computer, display the unknown vessel.” The monitor warped and rippled until it resolved itself into the form of the spacecraft. Its surface reflected and bent light in all directions. The Viceroy ran the ship’s configuration through his memory and came up blank. With a sigh he turned back to the droid captain, “Very well, I’ll be on the bridge after I’ve prepared for the encounter. Thank you Captain, you’re dismissed.” The droid turned and left the room, the door sliding shut behind him. Slowly Nute Gunray turned to his dresser and considered his appearance. At the same time his thoughts dwelt upon why he was here, the transmission that had instructed him to be at the rendezvous point, what could Darth Sidious want this time? * * * Tron drummed his fingers impatiently on the side of his chair, “Why do they keep us waiting?” He glanced back at his bridge crew and frowned deeply, “Any change in the vessel’s disposition?” “Negative sir, nothing more then a couple power allocation charges. They look more like system checks then any power up sequence for weaponry. Those guns which we have identified remain silent.” The Sensor operator grinned, “Perhaps they’re just trying our patience.” Tron snorted, “Time is latinum.” He glanced back at the viewscreen which showed the enormous vessel, “But in this case I’m willing to spend a little more in the hope of further gain.” Suddenly the communications console lit up, “Sir, they’re answering our hail.” “Onscreen,” Tron answered immediately. The viewscreen suddenly switched to an image of a tall figure with dark green amphibian skin and dark charcoal colored eyes. Flanking him were a pair of robots of some sort, their ant-like appearance marking them to the Ferengi’s eyes as some form of servant. The creature’s mouth moved in a strange manner as he spoke, as though his face was incapable of expression, “Unknown vessel, this is the Trade Federation Starship Saak’ak Viceroy Nute Gunray speaking.” A smile slipped across his face, Trade Federation? How could he get so lucky with a chance encounter? His sharp teeth clicked softly as he spoke, “Viceroy, this is Captain Tron of the Ferengi Marauder Profit and Glory.” He continued to smile as he stood, “This is a first meeting between our peoples, and represents a chance for us to profit from each other. Surely you will allow us to negotiate a deal that will ensure trade, security, and profit between our worlds.” “You speak well Captain,” The Viceroy glanced aside to one of the robots, “Prepare to open the portside hanger.” Then he turned back to the viewscreen, “Perhaps we can speak more of this in person.” With that the viewscreen winked off. “Their Portside hanger is opening; it’s large enough to accommodate our ship from my calculations, barely.” The Sensor officer said quietly. “Helm, move us into the hanger. I’ll be in the transporter room.” As he walked to the door, “Commander Pros, make sure he doesn’t scratch the paint while I’m gone.” * * * Viceroy Nute Gunray turned from the viewscreen and frowned, “Commander 009, I want you to do a tactical analysis of their ship. I want to know about any surprises these Ferengi may have onboard.” The droid saluted smarty and turned to its fellows, “Sensor scan procedure 1703-29-38.” “Roger, roger,” The blue painted fleet crew droid responsible for sensors answered as it tapped its display. The buzzing voice of the droid soon filed the air, “Four plasma-based Pulse Weapons, and one directed energy beam weapon. No missile systems detected.” The command droid snapped back to the viceroy, “Minimally armed sir.” “Good,” The Viceroy nodded, “Commander you will accompany me to the hanger. Captain, you have the conn.” * * * The three hundred meter long Ferengi Marauder slid into the cavernous hanger bay. As it descended onto the platform Battle droids and Droid Starfighters turned toward it in curiosity. The vessel didn’t match any within their records or programming. Still its presence here meant that it existed. Quickly many of the droids began doing quick scans to upload the new class of ship into their records. With a strange four beam effect the Ferengi Captain appeared before them, his fleshy earlobes picking up the sudden commotion among the droids. Two of the droids raised their weapons toward him, “Halt.” Another droid, this one with red painted soldiers stepped toward the two, “Lower your weapons, he is our guest.” “Roger, roger,” The two droids answered instantly as they dropped their blasters to their sides. The red shouldered droid turned back to the Ferengi, “Captain Tron?” “Yes,” Tron answered timidly. “Wait here,” The droid replied before turning toward the back of the hanger. As the droid moved away Captain Tron glanced over his shoulder at the Marauder, “The riskier the road, the greater the profit.” * * * The Nebula Class Starship Paris slid quietly through space, its sensors sweeping in every direction. The ship was hunting, hunting for stolen Federation property. Its scanners picked up the radiation trail of a Ferengi ship, and the vessel turned toward the readings. If there was one thing the ship’s captain knew about Ferengi, it was that they stopped at nothing in pursuit of profit. What he didn’t realize was that he was about to meet another race with the same ideals.

Star Trek vs. Star Wars: The White Admiral Part IV The cold dark of space was reamed by the thunder of the assembled force of Task Force Relentless gliding into the Polaron V Star System. The whine of Tie Fighters echoed in the dark as they circled the grey hulks of their motherships. For the crew it was night, the corridors of the ships we’re lit with red light. The crewman on duty sat before their posts with steaming hot mugs of café. Some of the men in less important posts napped, their officers too tired, lenient, or distant to bother waking them. This state was a danger on any voyage, and Captain Dorja knew that it was all to real a danger on a Voyage into the unknown. He stopped by countless duty stations, rousing the crew and rebuking them for their behavior. Dorja would have discipline on his ship. He’d seen far too many times what happened when a crew lost focus. He knew just how high the cost could get. It was around one o’clock galactic standard time when Dorja managed to retire to his cabin. There he lay down and dreamed in fits of cubes and diamonds. * * * Admiral Pelleaon felt his throat contract as he heard the words issue from the aging Admiral, “It’s been over a year since Bilbringi. Things have changed.” Thrawn’s red eyes narrowed, “I’m sure that you’ve noticed the strange occurrences of the last week. Perhaps we should talk more about this in person, and in safety.” “Certainly Admiral, if you would allow me, I’ll send a shuttle for you.” Reinach answered with a quick bow. His eyes flicked to Pelleaon, “If I may ask that you leave without your noghri bodyguard, there are things we must discuss that may be harmful to his sensibilities.” “Rukh has been through such discomfort before.” Thrawn answered quietly. Admiral Reinach held his ground, “I’m afraid, I must insist on it, sir.” Thrawn sighed, “Very well Admiral, Rukh will remain on the Chimaera. I trust you have no qualms with Captain Pelleaon joining us.” “I would be more then happy to have Adm… I mean Captain Pelleaon as a guest.” Thrawn arched an eyebrow at the Admiral’s misstep but didn’t follow up on it, “Very well, I expect to see you in one hour. In the meantime I would appreciate it if you release your support personnel to transfer additional supplies to the Chimaera.” “Consider it done Admiral Thrawn.” * * * A wing pair of Tie Fighters swept through the blackness of space, their sensors thundering across thousands of kilometers, hunting for echoes. They rolled and juked as they traveled, leaving their mothership’s far behind. The second pilot’s voice echoed across the reaches of space, “This is Eta Two to control. I’ve got an unidentified contact, two-thousand kilometers, on my nose.” The gruff and groggy voice of the Starfighter controller answered them, “Roger Eta Two, we’re negative for any contact along your vector. Eta One, confirm clearance?” “Negative Control, this is Eta One. I’ve got the contact on my scope, just where two says he is. He’s small maybe you guys can’t see him from back there.” The lead pilot replied, his voice washed out by the sound of the engines and life support gear. “Well I don’t see it Eta Lead.” Control answered, his gruff voice growing more groggy and disinterested. The Lead pilot grumbled under his breath before answering, “Permission to check it out control?” “Go ahead, you’re just chasing mynocks.” The Control officer answered before cutting off the comm. Lieutenant Kira Nemis furrowed her brow as se switched back to the flight communications frequency, “Lazy bastard.” “Roger that two, I’m sick of dealing with him. Next time he’s the control I’ll wash him out with my Imperial Orchestra collection.” “Sounds good to me,” Kira answered as she rolled her fighter back onto an intercept course with her fighter. She glanced at the control board before adding, “All speed or a little caution?” “It’s just a lone contact, and it doesn’t look big enough to be a Starfighter. All speed, it’s probably just a bit of orbital junk.” Lead replied as he rolled onto the contact and lit his drives. He leapt forward after the contact. “In that case I’ll blast it once we get there.” Kira answered as she redirected power from her newly installed shield systems to the engines. The fighter leapt forward, its engines roaring in the cockpit. Kira watched the sensor board, “Fifteen hundred kilometers… twelve hundred kilometers… one thousand kilometers… entering visual range.” “What the Sith is that thing?” Eta lead cut in, “It looks like a… coffin, or a beetle’s shell?” Kira frowned at her monitor, “I don’t know, the computer is analyzing it now.” “Bet you twenty credits the computer draws a blank.” “We’ll see lead…” Suddenly the computer before her pinged as it identified the object, “What the hell… Object identified as a Trade Federation Scarab Droid.” * * * The Shuttle ride to the shipyard was a smooth one, smoother then most that Pelleaon had been in since the Empire’s fall. Still it felt strange, as though some small things about the ship weren’t quite right. Finally he settled on the cause of his discomfort. The shuttle had no direct means of communicating to the pilot, nor did it have any furnishing except for a number of chairs lined with bright purple cushions and seating. Thrawn knew Pelleaon’s discomfort, “Captain, it may interest you to know that I’ve been on shuttles so upholstered before.” “You have sir?” Pelleaon asked quietly. “Yes,” Thrawn replied his voice as even as though he was ordering a meal, “When I accompanied the emperor himself on tours of our command he utilized a shuttle such as this. He had many, and any facility which he’d often visit was given its own.” “So the Emperor himself could have…” “No this shuttle is far too new for that. Did you notice just how clean the exterior was, and how the maintenance hatches show no sign of use. No Captain, this shuttle was just produced.” Thrawn glanced around the cabin, “Perhaps Admiral Reinach could explain why it has been built.” The Shuttle came to a stop in the hanger bay of the Golan Three Defense Platform that acted as the command center for the shipyard. With a hiss the wings folded up and the gear dropped onto the polish steal, followed quickly by the loading ramp. Thrawn stood and headed down the ramp, his eyes flicking around the hanger at the four platoons of stormtroopers that had to have been waked and rushed into presentation formation. They seemed surprisingly ready for a visitor in the middle of the night. Pelleaon stepped down the ramp and took a place beside Thrawn as Admiral Reinach stepped into the hanger. He walked toward them before stopping and saluting smartly, “Admiral Sir.” “Admiral Reinach, I trust you have a meeting room prepared?” “Right this way Admiral,” Reinach waved them toward the hanger doors, a clear hurry to his step. * * * The two fighters closed on the lone ship, their drives burning bright red in the night. The slowly began to circle the vessel, scanning it. “Control, we’ve got a positive ID on the contact we reported earlier,” Kira took a deep breath before continuing; “It’s a droid starfighter, an old one. We’re sending you our data feed.” “Roger Eta two, it’s coming… son of the sith!” “That’s about the shape of it control.” * * * The meeting room that Admiral Reinach had chosen was one of the smallest meeting rooms onboard the station. That wasn’t to say it was necessarily very small, it was just the smallest of a group of monstrosities. Inside the room had been a single table and holoprojector and three seats. It was clear that Reinach wanted the meeting to be as private as possible. Gilad Pelleaon couldn’t help but note the team of stormtroopers that guarded the doors to the room and the counterespionage team in the cooridor. When they had all stepped into the room the door hissed shut and a pair of green lights on the door flicked on, showing that the room was secure. Finally with the door shut Admiral Reinach turned to them, his worn face taunt with worry, “Well Admiral, I don’t think it will surprise you to learn that you’re the first Imperial ship I’ve seen in the last week.” “No, it wouldn’t,” Thrawn answered flatly, “Though it seems we’re not alone in this debacle, a number of previously unknown races have appeared in this region of space. Most all rebel activity has disappeared as well.” “Are we all that is left of the Empire then?” Admiral Reinach asked flatly. Thrawn shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s possible that more imperial facilities and ships survived the events that have brought us together across both distance… and time.” “Yes, Admiral, I suppose that you being here force my hand. You are aware of the means by which we had controlled the Noghri. It seems that during your time as head of the empire they discovered the means of that control. The noghri turned against you while you weren’t looking.” Pelleaon felt his throat constrict, “So the noghri defected to the rebels, what specifically this have to do with the Admiral’s death?” “I’m getting to that,” Admiral Reincah sighed before turning back to Thrawn. “The Noghri found and destroyed Wayland. When word of the attack reached Rukh he turned on you in the heat of battle and stabbed you through the command chair. You died.” Admiral Reinach shook his head, “We were rolled back, and then he came…” “Who?” Thrawn asked in his chair. “Who else? Palpatine’s clone,” Admiral Reincah shook his head, “We’ve gone on the offensive since he showed up, but it’s not the same as it was when the Emperor was still alive.” “I see, I trust he emerged from Byss,” Thrawn answered quietly, “Well, I suppose this leaves you in a bit of a pickle as to which empire to follow?” “No, Admiral. It doesn’t.” Admiral Reincah stood, “I’m your man sir.” “I’m glad to hear it.” * * * Captain Dorja woke when his intercom chimed. He rolled out of bed and hit the key still groggy, “Dorja here?” “Sir you’d better come to the hanger bay. There’s something we’d like you to see.” Dorja frowned as he sat up on the bed, “Alright commander, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” “We’ll be waiting sir.” Dorja frowned as he pulled on his uniform and headed for the turbolift. In the last week he’d gotten less sleep then he had in most every combat cruise he’d been on in the last few months. He hurried into the turbolift and keyed the main hanger. Then leaned back against the cool metal and closed his eyes as the lift sped toward the hanger bay, first going down then sideways before finally down again and slowing to a stop. The doors opened with a hiss and Dorja stepped into a bizarre scene. A pair of Zero-G stormtroopers stood before him, their mounted lasers charged and leveled at what looked like an enormous ten pod. Beside it were two TIE Pilots conversing quietly among each other. Commander Jula Krenner stood beside them and turned to Dorja as he stepped into the room, “Sir.” “What is this thing?” Droja answered looking at the pod. “Sir, it’s a Trade Federation Droid Starfighter, old vintage to, about two generations older then the Vulture droids used by the Separatists during the Clone Wars. It’s called a Scarab Starfighter.” Dorja frowned as he looked down at the strange craft, “What in the name of the Sith is going to happen next?”

Star Trek vs. Star Wars: The White Admiral Part III Grand Admiral Thrawn folded his hands in front of him and starred out at the glistening blue tunnel that was hyperspace. He turned as Pellaeon approached holding a data pad. Slowly Thrawn took it and read the contents, “So Fondor has begun construction on a Sovereign Class Star Dreadnaught.” “Yes Admiral, I’m surprised that it was in the Wayland archives,” Pellaeon answered slowly. Thrawn allowed himself a slight smile, “You’d be surprised how many designs for weapons that are in that warehouse.” He shrugged, “Weapons that are rare, or nearly impossible to find, but still extremely effective.” The Admiral smiled coldly, “Weapons and vessels which we must build our plans upon.” “What of the unknown ship?” Pelleaon asked slowly as he punched the second holo up onto the display, “We didn’t get a good look at it, but it’s clearly not an imperial design.” “No,” Thrawn answered quietly, “It is not.” “Sir?” “I’ve seen such ships before, long before I joined the deceased emperor. It is a raporan vessel.” “Raporan?” Pelleaon asked, his grey mustache quivering. Thrawn nodded, “They are a species I’ve had some… dealings with on the outer rim. I would prefer avoiding a clash with them if it is at all possible.” “Understood sir.” “Unfortunately we may encounter them weather we want to or not,” Thrawn stood, “Instruct Dorja to return to the Polaron V Garrison. We’ll proceed onward to Fondor.” * * * Captain Talam pulled the switch of his belt and slipped out of his seat, “Take over Lieutenant.” They’d been watching the shipyards and assembly facilities from a distance, monitoring the deployment of defenses, the work of the construction teams, and any arrivals in the system. So far there’d been little activity of note, the shipyards were busily laboring on their assigned tasks, the garrison was conducting its patrols in a routine manner, and all of the combat ships spotted within the system hadn’t moved. Talam sighed as he dropped himself in a seat across from Sensor Operator Johan Velate. Johan pulled a small bottle of corellian ale from his breast pocket and tossed it to his commander, “Here sir.” “Thanks,” Talam answered as he unscrewed the cap of the bottle and leaned back in his seat, “It’s been what? Thirty hours now?” “Something like that,” Johan replied quietly, “What’s forty-eight hours in a chair?” Talam closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat, “An accident waiting to happen.” He quickly fell to sleep in the chair as his comrades continued to work at their posts. To him he had barely drifted into the soft netherworld of dreams when he was blasted awake. “Sir!” Johan yelled from his console, his tired face now taunt with adrenaline, “Ships exiting hyperspace, two-thousand kilometers dead aft!” Talam shot out of his seat, “Identify!” “It’s the Chimaera!” Johan shouted in relief. * * * The somber silence of space was torn by the thunder of engines as an imperial combat force dropped out of hyperspace. The angular form of the five star destroyers, two Imperial IIs the other three Victory IIs, lay at the center of the formation. Scattered around them was a cloud of support ships, varying in size and power. All the ships had clear damage, open wounds and blackened hulls from their skirmish with the borg. Still their hulls remained strong and resilient, their sensors active, and their weapons ready. Onboard the Relentless, Captain Dorja paced the command deck of the bridge. He listened to the quiet labor of the crew and glanced from post to post noting which control stations were disabled or unused. The clack of heels behind him announced the arrival of Lieutenant Mitchell, “Yes, lieutenant?” “Sir, we’ve compiled the status report you requested.” Dorja nodded without turning, “Good, I trust the Admiral’s modification has been put in place.” “Yes sir, all turbolaser crews have installed and tested the re-modulators, we’ll be able to easily triple the length at which are weapons will be effective.” “I hope it won’t come to that lieutenant.” Captain Dorja finally turned toward his subordinate, “The Borg probably have more tricks up their sleeve. We can only prepare for the unknown and only guess what the universe will hand us.” “Yes sir.” Out beyond the sensor range of the Relentless the eight dark cubes watched and waited. The ghostly green glow reflected off the smaller hulks of their attendant vessels. Slowly the eight dark shapes drifted closer, fusing into one enormous mass, creating one vessel, six kilometers long, six kilometers high, and six kilometers tall. A Borg Fusion Cube. * * * Grand Admiral Thrawn smiled coldly as Captain Talam came clanking down the ramp of the Ferret Scoutship and saluted, “Excellent work Captain.” “Thank you sir,” Captain Talam answered wringing his hands, “I’ll have my report ready for you within an hour.” “No need to rush Captain, you should get a shower and some sleep before putting words to your actions,” Thrawn answered. Captain Talam smiled, “Thank you sir, I’ll have that report ready for you tomorrow then.” “I look forward to it Captain,” Thrawn answered as he turned away and headed for the turbolifts. As he stepped into the lift Thrawn glanced at Pelleaon, “Any response from the shipyards?” “No sir, not even a blink. It’s as though they didn’t even see us drop into the system.” Pelleaon frowned, “We’d have been hard pressed to detect the arrival if we were in their position.” “Maybe Captain,” Thrawn glanced at the two fleet guards beside the lift as the door slid open and they stepped out onto the bridge, “Somehow I doubt they missed our arrival.” As Thrawn came to the command chair he stopped, “Either way, we’ll find out soon enough. Helm, bring us within sensor range of the shipyards. Comm, hail the shipyards.” “Aye sir,” The communications officer replied as she knelt in front of her control board. She stopped almost instantly, “The Shipyards are responding. Admiral Dave Reinach commanding…” “Put them on Holo,” Thrawn answered as he slid into the command chair. The fuzzy blue image of an aging Imperial Rear Admiral appeared before them. He held his hands before him, clasped just above his belt. His worn face betrayed age and struggle but his build was strong, not yet marred by the wear of advanced years. Thrawn stood, “Admiral Reinach, it is a pleasure to see you again.” The old admiral’s eyes widened, “Grand Admiral Thrawn, how is this possible, you’re dead…” * * * Captain Dorja frowned as he stepped into his quarters. The door slid shut behind him, plunging the room into darkness. Soon another day would dawn, and with it many more challenges.

Star Trek vs. Star Wars: The White Admiral Part II The white shape of the Lambda Shuttle ITS-473A-4 slid into the expansive hanger bay of the Chimeara. Its wings retracted upright with a hiss of escaping gas as the craft settled onto the deck. With another hiss and whine the loading ramp dropped down and a dozen battered and haggard looking personnel sped out of the vehicle. Suddenly at the opposite side of the hanger the doors to the turbolift hissed open and Grand Admiral Thrawn stepped into the room. Beside the main control console General Covell spun on his hip and saluted to his superior, “Evacuation of Wayland complete. We managed to grab most of the important equipment and data on our way out, including the… cylinders.” “Good,” Thrawn replied as he glanced at the medical teams busily treating the casualties from the complex, “Any loss of life?” “Sixteen stormtroopers that were on patrol are missing and two of the maintenance personnel as well. They probably got caught in the lava flows.” The General frowned, “Considering the situation it’s miraculous that no one else was lost.” “I’d agree,” Pelleaon said to himself. Suddenly a lieutenant ran up to them, “Sir, we’ve got a transmission from Dorja. He reports repulsing an attack by previously unknown forces.” Thrawn’s red eyes narrowed, “Set course for Dorja’s command. We’ll find out what this is all about.” * * * Out in the space beyond the bridge Dorja saw another white dagger shaped ship leap out of hyperspace. The comm officer turned to him, “The Chimeara is hailing us; Grand Admiral Thrawn wants a report.” Slowly Dorja sighed as the holo projector at the aft of the bridge hummed its readiness. He stepped to the plate and nodded to the comm officer. The tall blue form of the Grand Admiral materialized before him. With the effect from the Holo projector he looked nearly human, “Captain Dorja one of your ships is missing and several appear to have sustained battle damage.” “Yes Admiral, we were attack by an unknown force. They called themselves the Borg. We have a complete sensor record of events, Admiral I’m afraid I’ve never seen anything like them,” Dorja said slowly. “Yes, the damage your ships have suffered is not consistent with any known form of weapon except… except for a number turbolaser blasts on your hull,” Thrawn said as he took a data pad from an officer that walked on. “Somehow the enemy discovered a way to reflect our fire back at us. Our own shots caused damage to our ships toward the end of the battle. They also boarded and captured the Cruel Redoubt,” Dorja reported. He saw Thrawn arch an eyebrow. “Captain, I’d like that complete record of events and a full report within twelve hours, events have taken a strange turn and I want to know what is happening, and every sliver of information is crucial,” The Grand Admiral cut the transmission. Dorja let out a deep breath, “Yes sir.” * * * Captain Pellaeon slowly walked toward the rear of the bridge. He held the latest report from the scout ships, and prospects weren’t looking good. Slowly he stepped through the doors into the outer office of the Grand Admiral There in a darkened corner Rukh stood, somber and watching. Pellaeon shook his head and stepped through the doors. Hovering in front of him was an enormous image that made Pellaeon halt. Three giant cubes were engaging a force of two Star Destroyers and support ships. Pellaeon watched the crisscrossing of blasts and beams for a moment and was about to clear his throat when the Admiral leaned back from his chair in the center of the room, “Fascinating isn’t it. We’ve encountered a race that is far different then any we have encountered before. But I think I know how to beat them, if they return at any rate.” Thrawn brought up a sensor display record recording the imperial gunners’ impacts. There Thrawn nodded, “You recall that each turbolaser fires on a slightly different frequency.” “Yes, the gunners installed the measure so they could keep track of who destroyed what post battle, something of an instrument of pride,” Pellaeon answered. “Yes, if you watch closely you notice that all the batteries on the ship have fired three times at this point.” Thrawn pointed to the display and suddenly Pellaeon watched as the newest barrage from the Relentless reflected off a shield the Borg had suddenly deployed. Thrawn keyed off the holo projector, “The enemy recorded the frequency of each of our attacks and used the information to deploy a shield directly on that frequency; the counter to this is self evident. Each turbolaser will be a given a sequence of ten frequencies that they will rotate through when engaged by these Borg.” “I’ll order the modification at once Admiral,” Pellaeon said swiftly. “What do you think of the shape of the ships, captain?” Thrawn asked casting his red eyes directly at Pellaeon. “I don’t know what to make of it sir, it’s just a simple cube…” “Yes, a cube, a simple standard geometric shape. This gives us an insight onto the enemy’s psychology, we’re dealing against a low grade hive mind, and a culture based upon adding other to its existence. I’d say that it is a culture striving to include all to become a one all in composing culture, I believe that they believe that doing this they will reach a utopian existence,” The Admiral had stood and was now gripping the tops of the chair. Slowly Thrawn shook his head, “They’re striving for perfection makes them dangerous, even more dangerous if they actually believe themselves to be perfect.” “So you know how to defeat them in battle,” Pellaeon answered slowly. ”Yes, captain, if it comes to that, they have their weaknesses,” Thrawn answered slowly. He glanced at the pad which was clutched in Pellaeon’s grip, “What have our scouts reported?” “I’m afraid they’ve reported that all the installations supposedly in this sector no longer exist, there is no sign of battle or debris either sir,” Pellaeon answered as he handed the report to Thrawn. “And we have no scientists with us who could explain what has occurred,” Thrawn shook his head slowly, “What we really need are a few good minds.” “Yes sir,” Pelleaon said quietly as he flipped the datapad around in his hand, “Our scout ships’ latest reports. Prospects aren’t that good sir.” “Have they found any remaining bases?” “Just one sir, and its barely able to support one of our task forces let alone both ours and Dorja’s,” Pelleaon closed his eyes, to think that all of those bases had disappeared was hard to swallow or accept. Admiral Thrawn nodded to himself, “Expand the search, we must find a base of resupply soon for both our forces. How long until the recon teams reach Fondor and Bilbringi?” “The first should be arriving at Fondor any moment,” Pelleaon answered quietly. * * * With a flash the Imperial Reconnaissance Team Epsilon Four dropped out of hyperspace. Their two escorting gunboats sweeping their sensors for possible threats as the ferret probe sped forward into the system with an Imperial Patrol Ship in close attendance. “Epsilon Four-Alpha this is Epsilon-Four-One, we’re clear of starfighter and capital ship contacts for a thousand kilometers in every direction.” Onboard the Ferret Probe the mission leader, Captain Talam leaned over the mike, “Roger Gunboats, this is Alpha, beginning area scan.” With a sigh he leaned back in his seat, “Let’s hope something is left.” Behind him Sensor Operator Johan Velate glanced over to his commander, “Something sir? I’d settle for the whole shipyard.” “The way our luck has been running Johan, we’ll be lucky to find a bolt of that shipyard left.” Captain Talam turned back to his controls and glanced out the window at the three escorting ships. Suddenly in the back of the crew compartment there was a gasp, “Sir, I’ve picked up another ship. Bearing Two-One-Zero Mark Two, closing fast.” “Contact is unknown type, repeat unknown type,” Johan called out as he caught the ship on his display, “I can barely make it out on the EM scanners.” He flicked a switch, “Gravitic sensors show the craft at twenty kilometers and closing.” “Twenty klicks?” Captain Talam said under his breathe, “But the fighters said…” Suddenly a red brown starfighter shot straight past the cockpit. Captain Talam could barely make out the two claw shaped wings and curved black canopy before it disappeared from view. Captain Talam turned back to the crew compartment, “Optical, did you get that?” “Yes sir, we’ve got it.” “Hot sith,” Talam said aloud as the two gunboats maneuvered past the canopy, “Epsilon Four-One, do you see him?” “Negative, he just jumped to hyperspace… out system jump too.” Captain Talam turned back to the displays slightly shaken, “Well son of the sith… What the hell was that?” The gunboat commander’s voice echoed across the comm, “Almost looked like one of those old Sith Fighters from the Galactic Museum. Wrong color though, those were grey.” Talam replayed the high speed pass in his mind again, the ship did look similar to that craft, but more angular then the sith ships he’d seen in the museum. It might be something to go on nonetheless. He glanced back at his displays, another seven hours in the sky. Through the viewport the distant sphere of Fondor was rising into view, from here he couldn’t see the shipyards, but at least the planet was still there, and if the world was still there… Behind him one of the sensor operators whooped with joy, “By the force, its there, its all there!” The first glimmers of hope rose within him as he listened to the operators call in the contacts. Star destroyers and unknown vessels, Titan Cruisers, Venerators, Acclamators, and Strike class ships. There were more ships there then Admiral Thrawn had used on the attack on Coruscant, and with them at his command the Empire would be able to recover and expand like they’d never dreamed. * * * Grand Admiral Thrawn sat in the command chair at the center of the bustling activity of the Imperial II Star Destroyer Chimaera. Slowly he turned to watch Captain Pellaeon as he strolled along the command deck inspecting the stations of his subordinates. Thrawn watched as the communications officer straightened, “Captain, I’ve got a communiqué from Scout group Epsilon Four. They’ve found the Fondor shipyards completely intact!” “Their report?” Captain Pellaeon asked swiftly. The officer nodded and Pelleaon took the data pad from the officer. He skimmed it then handed it to Thrawn, “There is an attached holographic file.” Thrawn nodded as he took the data pad and skimmed its report. Yes, they’d found that Fondor still seemed to have its shipyards. Slowly Thrawn took the data card from the pad and punched it into he tactical data holo projector. In front of him the world of Fondor materialized. There were indeed a large number of shipyards around the world. He zoomed in one off the shipyards and stopped cold. There in the center of the shipyard was a vessel that was far from standard Imperial design. Thrawn’s eyes narrowed as he saw that it was an enormous vessel that was shaped like a ship from the distant past. He guessed that it was just over fourteen kilometers long from the range. Putting a finger to his blue cheek he spoke, softly, barely a whisper, “Captain?” Pellaeon wheeled and marched next to him. When he bent down Thrawn continued in that tone so that the crew could not hear, “Run this vessel through the technical specifications found at Wayland if there is a match I want to know about it.”

Star Trek vs. Star Wars: The White Admiral Part I The white dagger shape of the Imperial II Star Destroyer Chimeara slid through space, its hull glinting slightly in the shine of a distant star. Below the craft the green and blue globe of the world called Wayland rolled through space. Suddenly, between the world and the planet a metallic sphere shimmered into existence. With a flash a blaze of brilliant yellow light flashed from the sphere out into space, and in that instant the planet changed. An enormous plane of asteroids appeared from nowhere and the green and brown on half the planet was replaced by a glowing molten surface of magma. Geysers of molten rock shot up from the surface, arching to grab at the Star Destroyer high above. As the ship passed through the outer fringes of the asteroid field, it was rocked by dozens of tiny impacts. Captain Gilad Pelleaon winced as a sound akin to hail pounded across the hull. He stood on the metal catwalk overlooking the crew pits. His eyes were focused outside at the planet, with his jaw agape. He turned to the lieutenant in charge of sensors, “Are those asteroids a danger?” “No sir, we just passed through the outer edge of the ring sir.” “Lieutenant Acks, contact the Wayland base, find out what they’re situation is,” Pelleaon turned to the other crew pit, “Helm bring us into a higher orbit. I don’t want to go through that asteroid field again.” He felt a lump rise in his throat as the metallic sphere appeared again, just below the asteroid field, “Sensors focus on that object.” In the back of the bridge a pair of doors hissed open and a somber figure stepped into the room. The badge of a Grand Admiral rested on his chest, as the man’s red eyes flicked across the bridge. His blue skin marked him as an alien, but the crew had long ago dropped any belief in human superiority, he’d forced them to. When he spoke, his voice was soft and measured, “Captain Pelleaon, report.” “Something just happened, sir. I don’t know what yet,” Gilad’s mustache twitched as a shadowy grey figured slid into the bridge behind the Admiral. Pelleaon may have come to respect Grand Admiral Thrawn, but he had little use for the grey skinned bodyguard. The sensor officer glanced up at Pelleaon, “Sir, I’m not getting anything on the sphere. All our sensor readings are just bouncing off it.” The Admiral stepped beside the command chair at the bridge’s rear and tapped a button on its arm. Suddenly a holographic image of nearby space snapped into existence in front of the chair. He began to quietly study it. After a moment he glanced to the crew pit, “Lieutenant Acks, have you gotten in touch with Wayland?” “Just got it sir, they’re reporting massive damage to the complex. Lava flows are moving in on the compound.” “Order them to begin an evacuation, grab as many of the cloning cylinders as they can. Start downloading all the files from the complex’s computer into out own.” Thrawn turned to the repeater display, “After that Lieutenant Acks get on the holonet and initiate a fleet check in. I want to know if what we’re seeing is isolated.” The helm officer, Lieutenant Sarn, stood from behind his post, “Sir, it’s not just us. I just completed a star plot, everything’s out of alignment; everything.” “Thank you Lieutenant,” The Grand Admiral answered slowly. Captain Pelleaon turned to his superior, “Sir, can I speak with you in private?” “Certainly Captain,” Thrawn answered gesturing to the rear of the bridge. Captain Pelleaon followed him to the holographic chamber and waited. Thrawn turned toward him, “You’re expecting the holonet to be down.” “Yes sir,” Captain Pelleaon swallowed, “Without the holonet…” “We’ll be forced to rely on courier ships, I know Captain. Still, I believe that some of the holonet may have survived. We did after all,” Thrawn replied soothingly. Captain Pelleaon’s fists knotted at his hips, “Whatever this is that sphere caused it.” “Indeed, unfortunately none of us are scientists captain, perhaps some of those that were assigned to Wayland can assist us in finding out what it is going on.” Lieutenant Acks slipped into the room, “Admiral, Captain, most of the Holonet is down, but I did manage to contact Captain Dorja. He reports that his task force is intact and awaiting orders.” “Thank you Lieutenant,” Captain Pelleaon answered with a tight smile. Thrawn nodded slowly to himself, “Tell Dorja to launch recon ships and probes to all nearby systems. Have him launch a probe ship to contact the rest of the fleet and a second probe ship to check on Fondor and Bilbringi.” “Yes sir,” The Lieutenant answered before heading back to his post. “Sir, what about us,” Pelleaon asked quietly. “We’ll d much the same as him, launch probe ships and check out the nearby systems. I want to know how much damage this… event has done to our infrastructure. If the Rebels have suffered the same or worse then us, we may be able to us this to our advantage.” Thrawn headed back down to bridge to the crew pits, “Lieutenant Sarn, can we still plot safe jumps?” “Negative Admiral, I did a star position once we went through, the stars are close to where they should be but they don’t perfectly match. If we jump the chances of us hitting a gravity well must be considered,” The chief navigator replied. He sounded tired and worried as he should be. “Well then we must be careful, plot jumps to the six nearest systems as best as you can. You’ll need the star charts from those systems in order to compile the position of stars more precisely. We’ll launch six recon ships for that task.” “Thank you, sir.” * * * Captain Dorja clasped his hands behind his back as his ship slid through space. On either side of him crewmen worked swiftly. To Dorja it was the constant bustle of ship at work. Still his calculating mind was perplexed by recent events; there had been no holo communications, no calls for help, no updates from imperial intelligence, to him the silence of the galaxy around him was most unwelcome. At least Thrawn had given him orders. The reports from the recon ships had surprised him, many of the worlds they’d visited had been completely transformed, and others seemed untouched. Still more were completely silent on the communications systems but just as intact. Then there was the report from a system where the world was now nothing but a rapidly expanding cloud of debris. It would be a few days before the probe ships could reach the imperial shipyards at Fondor and Bilbringi. Days that filled him with worry, if they were gone the Empire was finished, done for. Even more frightening to Dorja however were reports of unknown vessels, potential enemies that had sprung up seemingly from nowhere. His thoughts were quickly interrupted. “Captain, I’m picking up distant contacts, closing fast,” The sensor operator said as a light flashed on his board. “Deploy the task force, defensive alert.” “Contacts resolving, unknown configuration, entering visual range,” The operator added. His voice slightly more excited then usual. Dorja let it go as he saw the first ship through the view ports. An enormous vessel that was over twice as large as his ship slowed and stop with speed he’d never seen before. It was an enormous cube that slowly spun through space, glancing to his side Dorja saw another ship just as large and then another. He starred for a moment before ordering, “Tactical analysis.” “I’m getting large energy reading and couple emplacements that might be weapon systems. A lot more energy then needed for those batteries they probably have some sort of other weapon system,” The sensor operator injected. “They’re hailing us, audio only.” The voice that came across the speakers seemed to be the synthetic merger of thousands of versions, “We are the Borg, lower your shields and surrender your ships, we will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own; your culture will learn to serve as us. Resistance is futile.” Dorja looked around at the crew members. Several had stood to get a look at the enormous ship that sat in front of them. There were whispers among them about their situation. Slowly he turned to the tactical officer, “Battle alert. Ready all weapons.” The ship suddenly lurched as a green beam engulfed it from the first Borg cube. ”We’re in some sort of tractor beam,” The tactical officer announced. Dorja keyed the intercom, “Pilots to your stations!” With a flip of a switch Dorja cut the comm. and turned to the weapons officer, “Target that beam and destroy it!” The deck began to dully thump as a turbolaser cluster fired. Its emerald beam sliced into the corner of the cube and the beam disappeared. ”Good shooting weapons,” Suddenly the beam restarted and Dorja looked on in disbelief. “Sir, they seem to have near instantaneous repair ability,” The sensor operator reported. The communications officer turned to Dorja, “Captain Arden of Serpent’s Hiss requests permission to engage.” Dorja nodded to the communications officer, “Inform the task force they’re free to engage.” He turned back toward the hovering cube, “Guns fire at will.” The Imperial II Star Destroyer Relentless fired its forward batteries delivering an enormous amount of fire upon the Cube. Green flashes from ignited atmosphere flashed across the hull. Pieces and debris began to separate from its outer hull. The Cube retaliated letting loose with all its weapons. The blaze of green bolts flashed between ships reflected against the grey hull of Imperial Star Destroyer Serpent’s Hiss as it glide between two of the cubes firings with all its weapons. The blaze of green flames emitted from the sides of both cubes. Suddenly a volley of bright green torpedoes launched from both cubes at once. A brilliant green beam locked onto the ship and began to push it forward. The Borg had figured that if they could force it to use only is stern weapons they’d have an advantage. Dorja turned to the communications officer, “All ships are to concentrate on freeing the Serpent’s Hiss.” Dorja watched as a lancer frigate sped in delivering a stream of green blasts that smashed into the beam system which quickly was blasted into molten metal. Dorja turned to the tactical control officer, “Launch all fighters!” * * * Flight Lieutenant John Lukas strapped into the small compact TIE cockpit and gazed out into the blink red hall that was the TIE launch system. Ahead he saw the blast doors slid open and the launch rack lower a fellow pilot into space. With a scream the ship sped out into space. Slowly John felt his ship move forward above the launch doors. With a clacking sound he felt the rack lower him into the fiery realm of space. With a thump he was free. He punched the throttle forward and looked up and gasped at what he saw. A trio of enormous cubes were trading blasts and firing beam shots at a pair of Imperial Star Destroyers. Slowly John keyed his comm to the squadron frequency, “Kilo squadron, you’re to conduct strafing runs on those vessels.” John nodded; he knew that those ships seemed to be a threat, the only threat. He twisted his TIE fighter onto an attack vector on one of the Cubes. Glancing to his sides he saw the rest of his squadron forming up for the run. Suddenly a blast shot into the middle of the formation, two TIEs exploded instantly. John felt an icy fist of fear grip his heart as he watched another series of beam blasts cut down two more fighters. He gritted his teeth as the targeting computer calculated showed that he was in range. Pulling his triggers he saw his blasts hit home against the ship’s hull. John pulled away from the cube as a series of green pulse blasts shot past his cockpit. * * * Dorja frowned at the confused space between the craft that were engaged. Suddenly a series of glistening green torpedoes shot toward a cruiser. Within seconds they hit the ships hull but nothing happened. Suddenly one of the comm officers looked up, “Captain we’ve just lost contact with the Carrack Cruiser Cruel Redoubt!” Dorja watched as the ship tumbled through space. What had just happened? * * * “TK-897 report,” The helmet spoke in his ear. The trooper could barely hear the call through the blaring of alarms and hiss of steam from several points. Suddenly the alarms cut off and the rumble of turbolaser fire cut off. The trooper picked himself off the deck and glanced at the battered turbolaser station he’d been guarding. Slowly Benjamin Hammer shook his head as he looked toward the hall, “I’m alright.” He glanced at the status readout for the Carrack and saw it suddenly shimmer and change to a seemingly random series of glyphs. There was a hiss and the trooper turned to see the green sparkling effect of Borg Transporters as three of the burly foes suddenly appeared before him. Benjamin lifted his blaster and fired catching the first Borg in its chest bringing it to the ground, “Intruder alert!” Ben caught a good look at the grayed skin and dark black armor and implants of the second Borg before he fired again. The blast burned away the Borg’s neck and dropped it to the ground. Ben fired on the final Borg and watched in horror as the bolt glanced off a shimmering shield that suddenly appeared and impacted a bulkhead. Benjamin had never seen a foe like this before and even with all his Stormtrooper training began to feel fear. He drew a vibroblade from its sheath and advanced on the Borg he struck forward and saw the Borg catch his armored wrist. Suddenly he felt a pair of pricks through the black material that guarded his neck. Ben collapsed to the floor and rolled over as he closed his eyes he heard a woman’s voice, “Come to perfection Eight of Twelve.” As he blacked out he felt his emotions, his pain, his name all fade away and were replaced with a strange sense of bliss, he would strive for perfection, as was the way and goal of all. * * * Dorja watched as his Communications officer turned to him, “Captain, we’re getting reports of internal weapons fire on the Cruel Redoubt. I’ve picked up a personal communiqué, the Borg have boarded her using some sort of mater transporter. They’re being overwhelmed.” Dorja watched as a holding beam suddenly snapped onto the Carrack, suddenly the Borg and Carrack accelerated away. Within seconds they were out of sensor range. Dorja felt his chest instantly become pressured, "Report on the status of the first cube.” “We’ve managed to breach their hull, wait we’re getting secondary explosions, sorry sir the cube is still intact,” The Tactical officer couldn’t withhold his disappointment. * * * John smiled as he saw the cube light up from secondary explosions. Swiftly he turned his ship toward the enormous vessel and squeezed the firing studs on the control column. Green bolts lanced out at the cube and detonated against its hull. Suddenly to his horror he saw shields suddenly snap on. His last blasts bounced harmlessly off into space as he passed. He heard a bang and felt the ship shudder from the impact. The viewport was spinning and John glanced at the damage report, his weapons were out and his engines damaged. In the view port he saw the third Borg cube sitting lazily in space. He threw all his power to the engines and shot toward it. John braced himself for impact when suddenly he saw a holding beam snap onto his ship. Suddenly he saw a spherical cavern open up before his ship slowly he felt his ship being forced inside. There amongst dozens of box shaped fighters he knew it was over. A tingling sensation alerted him to another unsettling reality. His last thoughts as an individual were surprising, “I should have joined the rebels.” * * * Dorja watched as the third cube disengaged. It moved away then shot off into space at impossible speed. It remained visible until out of sensor range. He looked out at the remaining cube and felt fear. Suddenly he saw that his turbolaser blasts weren’t hitting the hull but glancing off. The rumble of explosions from impacts with the ship’s shields reached his ears. Dorja knew that it was his own fire being reflected back at him, he shuddered as he thought of what it meant, it only took the Borg minutes to come up with an effective counter for his weapons and implement it. These were a frightful new opponent they were facing. One that defied everything he thought was possible for technology.