Apocalypse | Black

Commissioner Janeway stared at the report before her, then glanced up at Admiral Yar, who stood before the conference room viewscreen. "I don't understand. They're just... retreating?"

"We don't understand it either, but yes. Ship after ship, the Klingons are retreating back to the Empire. And as near as we can determine, it is an actual retreat. Not a feint. Not a redeployment. Not even an organized withdrawal. Individual ships, wherever they may be, are turning around and making a bee-line for home at high warp."

"We're sure it's not a trap? A trick of some sort?" asked Janeway.

"We're not sure of anything at this point."

"Could we have caused more damage to their forces at Khitomer than we realized?" asked the Commissioner.

"Doubtful," continued Yar. "All said and done, there were over fifty Federation vessels engaged in that battle. In the end, we were lucky to achieve parity. It was a stalling engagement at best. There's no reason to expect it to turn the Klingons around."

"What now?" asked Doctor Crusher. "We just stay out of their way and wave good-bye?"

"Hardly," answered FIA Director Kira. "Despite the speed of their withdrawal, the Klingons aren't exactly leaving peaceably. In fact, they're implementing a sort of scorched-planet policy. Any planet they withdraw from -- any Class-M planet they even happen to pass -- they bombard with radiation bombs."

"If *they* can't have it, no one can. Is that it?" commented Janeway.

"I think we ought to let the science department comment on this part," said Yar, moving toward her seat. As she did so, she nonchalantly adjusted the eye-patch which covered her left eye -- yet another souvenir of her service to Starfleet, and a result of her participation in the Battle of Khitomer. She had been scolded several times to have it repaired with a bionic replacement, but she had yet to find the time. Between her scar and now her patch, she was looking quite the rogue.

Doctor Brahms leaned forward as she spoke. "The bombs are not tremendously destructive when they strike, but they have a devastating long-term effect. Only a few bombs are needed on any given planet to completely contaminate the food chain. Initial studies indicate that the radiation released inhibits plants from absorbing nutrients. All plant growth ceases, and the food chain collapses."

"Why such an indirect approach?" asked Kira. "A starship can lay waste to an entire planet all by itself."

"We can't be sure," said Yar, "but most likely it's a matter of time. To systematically destroy an entire planet takes time -- even for a starship. This way, they need only lob a few bombs as they pass by. They could even have troops still on the surface get away safely after a bombing, before its full effect takes place."

"Enough speculating," interrupted Janeway. "Time for answers. Food stocks were already low due to the war. Things will only get worse. I want a fix for this before a full-blown famine sets in. I want to know what the Klingons are up to. And there's still a disease to cure. Don't anyone say you haven't got enough to keep busy."

*****

Commissioner Janeway studied a map on the monitor before her. A long wide red scar spread across a score of star systems -- indicating the areas hardest hit by the spreading famine. The area corresponded to the main avenues of retreat followed just a few months ago by the retreating Klingons, and marked the areas they devastated with radiation bombs.

So far, standard decontamination procedures had failed to rectify the situation. The eco-systems of the affected planets were collapsing, and their populations had become totally dependent on off-world resupply. This only served to further tax the already strained Federation network.

Janeway looked up at FIA Director Kira, standing next to a wall-mounted console. "I fear the day I have to start making the *hard* decisions."

"The what?" asked Kira, looking up.

"The hard decisions. Two starving planets... one supply convoy... who lives..." she sighed deeply, "and who dies."

Kira finished downloading a file she was reviewing. Crossing the room, she handed a padd to Janeway. "I think you ought to see the latest intelligence summary, Sir. It includes some details from a report by one of our deep agents."

As Janeway scanned the data, Kira summarized. "It looks like the reason the Klingons are pulling back is that they've got trouble on the far side of their Empire. An alien invasion of some kind."

"It still seems like overkill to me. The Klingons aren't pushovers. They shouldn't have to forfeit all their gains against us to repel some upstart aliens."

"These aren't just upstarts. Indications are that these so-called 'Borgs' are a force to be reckoned with."

Janeway raised her eyebrows. "They'd *have* to be, to make the Klingons sit up and take notice like this. How sure are we of our source?"

"Very. She's very close to the Klingon High Council."

"How close?"

Kira smiled. "She the Chancellor's concubine."

"And you're sure we can trust her?"

"Yes. Her name is B'Elanna Torres. Codename: Miral. Half human, but she can pass for full-blooded Klingon. She's been undercover for three years now. We've used her before. Very reliable."

"Very well, then." Janeway pushed off the edge of her desk as she stood, handing the padd back to Kira. "I'm taking the evening off. Gonna spend the night up north, just for a quick respite. If you need me, I'll still have my comm-badge."

"Very well, Sir." Kira turned to leave.

"How soon do you think it'll be before the Klingons can resume their advance on the Federation? Or do you think we ought to be worried more about the Romulans?"

Kira paused for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "To tell you the truth, Commissioner, I think maybe we ought to be worried about these 'Borgs'."

*****

As Janeway stepped into her private sanctuary, she was pleasantly surprised to be enveloped in the aroma of real cooking. The dining table had been prepared with full place-settings and even lit candles. "Nella, you shouldn't have," she called out, not yet seeing anyone. She dropped her small attaché on a chair and wandered around the table, admiring its beauty and snitching a carrot stick from the relish tray sitting out.

Captain Nella Daren, Starfleet Astrometrics Director, entered from the kitchen, smiling and wiping her hands on a towel -- a picture of domestic cliché. Still in her black uniform pants, she had a loose-fitting, lavender blouse on as well. "Hello! I thought I heard you come in."

"Nella..." said Kathryn, gesturing toward the table with an expression that completed her earlier statement once again.

"Oh, please," responded Nella. "I love this kind of stuff. So, when's the last time you had roast duck?"

Janeway thought a moment as she popped a couple olives into her mouth, shaking a couple more in her hand like a pair of dice. "Probably the last time I was home. Tell me," she joked, gesturing again toward the elaborate table, "could we get into trouble for anything you've got here?"

Nella responded with a smirk. "Nothing from the black market, if that's what you mean. I've had this poor bird in the stasis container for so long, we'll probably be doing it a favor by eating it. Well, it will all be ready soon. Let's sit down with a glass of wine."

Home, for Kathryn, would always be Indiana, which Kathryn hadn't seen for several years. Her usual place of abode nowadays was the Commissioner's Residence in the Presidio, adjacent to Starfleet Headquarters. It was not nearly as pretentious as the homes of many other heads of state, but it was still much more so than she preferred.

When she could get away (as she had decided to tonight, if only for one evening), where she went most often was here -- a spacious yet still quaint private residence on the outskirts of Victoria, British Columbia, at the southern tip of Vancouver Island. The fact that the place was in Nella's name helped maintain some privacy. The fact that Nella was married to someone else made that privacy all the more important.

The wine was excellent, which was typical when Nella made the selection. Despite her outwardly homey appearance, however, Captain Daren was no lightweight. On any standardized test, she would mop up the floor with Janeway. She just also happened to have an undeniable domestic streak running through her -- probably the quality that most strongly attracted Jean-Luc to her in the first place. She rarely got to act on those urges lately, but occasionally she and Kathryn would set aside an evening or two to play house.

Realizing that the few free hours she'd found herself with tonight might be the last for quite a while, Kathryn had given Nella a quick call. Tomorrow they would both be hard at work again, but tonight they would enjoy each other's company.

Nella sat at one end of the living room couch. Kathryn lay lengthwise, one foot on the far end of the couch, one foot on the floor, her head resting against Nella's shoulder. Thoughts of business continued to swirl in her head. "If we don't come up with a solution soon, I'm going to have to start thinking about mass evacuations."

Nella put her drink aside and turned sideways. "Stop thinking about work. You need to relax." She began rubbing Kathryn's neck and massaging her shoulders.

"Mmmm," purred Kathryn at the unexpected pleasure.

"Lay down." Nella took Kathryn's drink and placed it aside with her own. She pressed a button, and the couch opened itself flat -- the seat extended forward and the back rotated downward, forming a smooth wide soft surface.

Kathryn lay on her stomach. Nella tugged at the zipper on the back of Kathryn's uniform. "We shouldn't get carried away," scolded Kathryn.

"Why not?" teased Nella, sliding the red uniform top off Kathryn's shoulders. She worked her thumbs into the taught flesh on either side of Kathryn's spine. "You're just full of knots. When's the last time you had a massage?"

"When's the last time you gave me one?"

Nella reached the bottom of Kathryn's spine, where her uniform came together again just above her buttocks. "This just won't do." She playfully patted Kathryn's butt. "Come on. Off with these."

Kathryn made as if to protest, but stopped herself. She knew it would do no good against Nella. And besides, she didn't really want to. As Kathryn stripped, she asked, "What about dinner?"

"Dinner will wait." Nella tossed a sheet across the couch, and then removed her blouse and slacks, revealing a lacy black bra and panties. As Kathryn looked on, she reached up to her chestnut hair. Pulling out several pins, she shook her long locks down about her shoulders. Taking a small bottle of oil from a nearby drawer, she moved back to the couch and straddled Kathryn's naked thighs.

Placing some oil in the palm of her hands, she worked it back and forth until it was warm. Then she lay her hands once more upon Kathryn's shoulders and began working the flesh. Shoulders and back, buttocks and legs, soon Kathryn's body glowed with a golden sheen caused by the confluence of slick oil, soft light, and an inner glow that Nella never failed to spark. Kathryn felt like a pat of soft butter, oozing into the couch.

Nella herself could resist this romantic image no longer. Slipping out of her lingerie, she lay atop Kathryn with her entire body, sliding back and forth across her slick skin. Already aroused by the intimate setting, Nella could feel her nipples stiffen against Kathryn.

Kathryn could feel it too, and they exchanged murmurs of contentment. As Nella nibbled on Kathryn's ear and breathed hotly against the nape of her neck, she slipped an oily hand between Kathryn's legs and up against her equally slick pussy.

*****

The two women sipped from two fresh glasses of wine. Having sated one of their physical appetites, their dinner was about to satisfy another. They'd showered off the oil, and now they each wore a soft warm robe -- Nella's rose colored, Kathryn's light blue.

They sat again on the couch, this time with Nella resting against Kathryn's shoulder. Nella's conversation was growing inexplicable melancholy, and Kathryn wondered what was wrong. After all, it was usually Nella who cheered *her* up. Taking a guess at the source of her worry, Kathryn asked, "How is Jean-Luc?"

Nella's relaxed body tensed up. For better or worse, Kathryn had rightly identified the crux of the matter. "He's been the same for quite a while. When I visit him, he seems to recognize me, to want to communicate. The doctors say his brain activity is as vital as ever but..." Nella wiped away a tear with the back of her hand.

Kathryn had her arm around Nella's shoulder. She hugged her a bit tighter, not sure what more she could do to comfort her.

Nella tried to force a smile on her face. "Y'know, years ago, when we met, it seemed as if he was going to be one of those immune... that the Plague wouldn't hurt him." She looked up into Kathryn's eyes, her smile genuine now as she recalled happy memories. "When we got married, we had such plans."

"He's strong, Nella. He'll beat this thing yet."

"Yes, he may be strong. But look at me! You're a wonderful person, Kathryn, but I'm hardly the image of the loyal spouse. It's just that sometimes... I just can't take the loneliness."

"There's no need to, Nella. I'm not trying to replace anyone." Kathryn wrapped Nella up in another hug and kissed her forehead. "I've learned that when things start going really rough, there's no harm in leaning on a friend once in a while."

*****

It turned out to be a very late dinner by the time they got around to it. Nevertheless, it was every bit as good as it had looked when Kathryn arrived hours ago. The duck was succulent and tasty, but the salad really caught Kathryn's attention.

"What is it about this salad, Nella? It's delicious!"

"It's a simple vinaigrette dressing, but you've probably never had the greens before. They're Omicron Orchid leaves."

"They're what?"

"Omicronis Cetidium. Leaves from the orchid of the Omicron Ceti system. Actually, they're part of a new horticultural program that was begun since the food shortages began. Y'know, there's over thirty thousand species of orchid right here on Earth. Thousands more across the quadrant." She took a forkful of salad into her mouth. "Many of them are quite delicious."

Kathryn inspected her salad dubiously. "But Omicron orchids are *poisonous*!"

"Not entirely. The flowers are. Certainly the *spores* are. But the leaves are safe. They taste good, and they're high in essential minerals."

"What *else* was it about them?"

"You mean the Berthold rays?"

"That's right! Berthold rays! The spores protected their human hosts from Berthold radiation. Nella, could the plants themselves neutralize the radiation?"

"I don't know. I suppose it's possible. But if you're thinking of the Klingon bombs, they didn't use Berthold radiation."

"No, they used a variation of Baryon radiation, but it shares certain properties with Berthold rays, so it might be a place to start. And if these plants don't work, we'll try others. After all, you said yourself that there were thousands of varieties of these plants. I'm sure there must be others with similar characteristics."

Janeway got up and retrieved her comm-badge. "Ensign Nicoletti? This is Janeway. Sorry to bother you at this hour, but I need you to leave a message for Doctors Crusher and Brahms. I'll need to see them in my office tomorrow at 0900 hours... Thank you." She returned to her seat at the table with a smile. "Well! A great massage, a wonderful meal, and now this. Tonight turned out to be a very good evening indeed!"

*****

Annika grunted and groaned as she pushed back against the weight above her. The U.S.S. Faulkner had the latest, most sophisticated exercise equipment available, but Captain Hansen preferred the bang and clang of good old-fashioned free weights. The statuesque officer was both an exercise nut and a bit of an exhibitionist, so the mirrored weight room of the ship's gymnasium provided her favorite environment.

She got up from the bench press and picked up a towel to mop her forehead. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, with a stray wisp hanging free here and there. She wore a snug tank top with bare midriff, short shorts, and her outfit was classic gym gray in color. Dark sweat stains marked the top of both her tit cleavage and butt crack. The gym was empty now. She'd noticed a young ensign finish her routine and enter the locker room a few moments ago. Deciding that she too was done, Annika followed her.

Captain Hansen was aware of the rumors aboard ship regarding her penchant for petite young women. Well, sometimes rumors were true. Or in this case, partially true. Given a choice, Annika preferred more mature, busty women -- women she wasn't afraid might crack under a little pressure. But what could she do? She could only take the women Starfleet sent her.

Inside the locker room, she sat down on a bench next to the ensign, who was now toweling off after a quick shower. Annika surveyed her body non-too-subtly: a slim frame, dark auburn hair, and the requisite firm young breasts. Captain Hansen's imposing physical presence -- not to mention her rank -- held the new crewmember in nervous silence as she fumbled inside her locker.

"Good afternoon," Annika smiled, not too menacingly she hoped.

The ensign smiled back but could not bring herself to speak.

"I'm Captain Hansen."

"Oh, yes Sir... I mean, I know."

"And you are?" Annika continued, holding out her hand.

"Lefler... Robin Lefler... *Ensign* Robin Lefler... Sir!" the girl stammered, taking her hand.

"At ease, Ensign," Annika chuckled. Standing, she pulled her sweaty top off over her head, freeing her breasts. "Or can I call you Robin?"

"Of... of course," replied Robin, pulling on a pair of white panties as her eyes were involuntarily drawn to the Captain's chest.

"I haven't seen you around. You must have been assigned fairly recently."

"A couple weeks ago. I just graduated."

Annika paused and stared. "And you not looking a day over eighteen!"

"I'm twenty-one!" Robin responded, with the same urgency as a five-year-old insisting she was five *and-a-half*!

"Well, welcome aboard." Annika patted Robin's butt, leaving her hand there half-a-heartbeat longer than was necessary. She turned her back to the ensign and bent over, pulling her sweaty gym shorts down to her ankles. She practically rubbed her naked ass against Robin as she stepped out of the bundled clothing. She held that position as she looked back at Robin, who was studying her pink pussy, visible between her round ass cheeks.

Actually bumping her butt against Robin's thigh, Annika said, "Go ahead, touch it."

Robin looked at her and smiled as she tentatively reached out. She slid her hand edgewise between Annika's legs and began rubbing her soft pink pussy -- finding it completely shaved. The first touch was electric for both of them. For Robin because she rarely ever did such things. For Annika because she had just scored yet another young conquest.

Not long after she began palming Annika's hot snatch, Robin had to reach into her own panties to give herself some relief. She rubbed both pussies in unison, and came with youthful enthusiasm rather quickly. Annika came quickly as well, mostly because she wanted to, knowing her young ingénue would not last long. It was not a mind-blowing orgasm, but she enjoyed it nonetheless, letting the pleasant waves roll across her body.

She smiled as she straightened up and turned back around. "That was nice. It was certainly a *pleasure* to meet you," she teased.

"Yes," agreed Robin, embarrassed again as she rubbed a wet spot on the outside of her panties.

"Robin, would you mind stopping by my quarters this evening, so we can visit some more?"

"Uhhh," Robin stammered.

The Captain put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Relax. You don't have to if you don't want to, but it's nothing to be concerned about. We're all pretty good around here at keeping business and pleasure separate."

"Okay. I'd like that."

"Around 2100 then," said Annika as she tossed a towel over her shoulder and headed for the showers.

*****

Annika smiled as her door buzzer sounded at 2100 hours sharp. New recruits were always so punctual. Rather than tell the computer to open the door, she opted to answer it herself. She crossed the room and pressed a button beside the door. When it slid open, Robin gasped. The Captain stood before her, wearing only a pink see-through robe, which she hadn't even bothered to close in front.

"C'mon in," said Annika nonchalantly as she turned and walked away. Robin's gaze followed her swaying ass as it crossed the room. "How about some wine?" she offered, pouring two glasses from a carafe.

"Thank you."

They both sat down on a sofa, Annika folding one leg under her butt as she did so. "You wore your uniform."

"I wasn't sure what I should..." Robin's voice trailed off.

"It's fine. Whatever makes you comfortable." Noticing Robin studying her breasts, Annika held her robe open and jiggled them just a bit. "Not too bad for a broken down old captain, eh?"

"Oh, they're... awesome!"

"And how are you enjoying your tour so far?"

"It's been very interesting. We're pretty far out, huh?"

"One of the farthest corners of the Federation, but pretty close to the Klingons. They may have retreated, but you gotta keep an eye on those buggers." Her buzzer sounded again. "Oh, I hope you don't mind. I asked someone else to join us."

Robin was a bit confused. Considering the Captain's attire, she thought they were heading for something intimate. But if others were invited, maybe it was just a friendly visit after all.

"Come in," Annika called, this time letting the computer open the door. "Robin, you know Counselor Tigan, don't you?"

"Of course. Hello, Counselor."

"Please, call me Ezri tonight."

The way Ezri slipped under Annika's outstretched arm, it was clear to Robin what kind of relationship they shared. She recalled what she'd heard of the Captain's preferences -- young and petite. Did *she* fit that bill as well? The way the two of them now leered at her, it was clear what was going to come next. Robin wasn't confused anymore.

*****

"Bridge to Hansen."

"Dammit!" cried Annika, as the intercom sounded in her quarters. Why'd they have to call now -- talk about coitus interruptus. She was on her side, thrusting a massive strap-on into Robin's tight pink cunt. Behind Robin, Ezri was working a similarly large cock in and out of the girl's ass. Annika looked at Robin, biting her lip, not making a sound as the two officers stretched her limits. What a trooper, she thought.

Pulling out, she rolled over to a comm-panel and pushed a button. "Hansen here."

"Sir, an unidentified craft is closing fast."

"On my way." She looked at her two guests, who had also paused their activity. "I have to go." She leaned over and placed a passionate kiss on Robin's lips -- lots of tongue and slobber.

Ezri wrapped her arms around the ensign from behind. "You go ahead. We'll be along in a minute -- we're almost finished."

Annika dressed quickly and headed out. Two more minutes and she would have come. Not that she hadn't orgasmed several times already, but once more would have been nice.

*****

Hansen stepped from the tubolift onto the bridge. "Report."

First Officer Ro Laren spoke as she ceded the command chair to Hansen. "Long-range sensors picked it up a few minutes ago. A large vessel of unknown origin."

"Klingon?"

"No Sir, definitely not, though it *is* coming from Klingon territory. It's begun scanning us -- very intense beams. Coming into visual now."

Hansen squinted at the small speck in the center of the screen. "Magnify." The image shimmered, and then the ship filled the screen. It was very large, and cubical in shape. "Shields up. Red alert. What do our scans show?"

Ro leaned over the sensor panel. "It appears to be very decentralized... no bridge to speak of... no central engineering... many redundant systems..."

"Hail them."

"They're not acknowledging us."

Just then, a transmission was received from the Cube. It overrode all communication controls and sounded from every speaker on the ship:

"We are the Borg. Prepare to be assimilated. Resistance is futile..."

(End of Part Three of Four)