By Nathan Warner
The tall order of the day is for the U.S.S. Yeager to "convince" the Borg not to enter Federation space.
"Arm the weapon," Captain Alban ordered through clenched teeth. The U.S.S. Yeager and U.S.S. Brightwatch prepared to cut across a Borg cube to ward it off its course towards Fairweather Colony on the boundary of Federation space. Only a few years ago, Captain Alban would never have dared even approach within visual range of the Borg in his aging Saber class starship. But the U.S.S. Yeager had just undergone a refit and had some precious cargo, which bolstered Alban's courage enough to get this far - a small compliment of Transphasic torpedoes (thanks to the U.S.S. Voyager's return two years before).
The Saber's refit wouldn't have even been necessary had not Borg scouts begun appearing again on the edge of Federation space that year, seeming to have slowly been recovering from the neurolytic pathogen that "future" Janeway had delivered to the Hive. No one knew the status of the Borg collective, but rumored whispers had reached Starfleet that they had returned, and Starfleet wasn't going to take any chances. From the day it arrived back to Earth, Starfleet began adapting Voyager's advanced technology to properly equip ships most likely to encounter Borg scouts.
"Make sure they scan our underbelly," Alban commented to the helm, pulling painfully at the tuft of his graying beard below his lip. Ensign Beccky Travain could only nod though her auburn bangs as she wiped the sweat from her brow and banked the Yeager, waving the ventral quarter towards the towering Borg cube.
"They're scanning us!" Lt. Estler called from Tactical - Alban could feel the adrenaline in his voice. If that wasn't enough, the Andorian's antennas were twitching anxiously. On tactical, Alban could see that the U.S.S. Brightwatch had followed their course and was showing off its transphasic signatures as well as it pulled along under them in a "wingman" formation.
"Sir, the Borg have halted their advance!" Travain reported. Alban ground his teeth.
"I'll believe it when I see it," he commented. But even as he said the words, the massive Borg structure came to a stop, glowing and gleaming poisonous green light at them. It spun its towering walls slowly in place and then shot off at high impulse almost 90 degrees to its previous course. It quickly shrank to a spec on the viewer.
"Report?" Alban ordered.
"They are headed back along the border, Sir!" Travain answered through a sigh of relief. "Sir, we did it - we warned the Borg off!" She was almost giddy with emotion and disbelief. Alban let it go without a comment because he was feeling it too. The rush from scaring off the Borg in nothing but a light cruiser was invigorating. Slowly, he let his breath out, so as to claim more calm than he felt, and he cautiously stood, peering over Travain's shoulder to confirm the unbelievable news that sensors bore them.
"I don't believe it," he muttered, and then straightened. "But I do see it!" He returned to his chair. "Inform Starfleet," he ordered. Before his words had finished ringing in the air, Captain Irene Bellacose called in from the Brightwatch.
"Well?" she said with a bit of surprise. "What do you make of that?" Her one strand of grey hair seemed to have turned white since he last saw it only minutes ago.
"It would seem that the Borg have some memory at least of the last time they ran into Admiral Janeway!" Alban chuckled. "We'll have to thank her personally sometime. Perhaps this will provide a new stalemate for our cyborg friends out there!"
"I wouldn't count on it," Irene commented. "Mark my words, we'll be using those torpedoes sooner than later. But for now, I'm glad to see their backside. I'd say we delivered the message loud and clear." She winked slightly at Alban and leaned in. "So, last one to Starbase buys the drinks?" Alban smiled.
"You've got a race, Captain," he nodded. Even as he was speaking, he could hear Travain already prepping the coordinates and warming up the warp engines. He wasn't sure whether he should be irritated at the presumption or pleased he had such an intuitive crew. He settled on being pleased. And with that, the two Saberclass starships banked together for the road home and leapt to warp at almost the same time, leaving the desolate frontier for the time being.
