Metamorphosis

by Steve Bellinger
Part One

"Immortality is illogical," Tuvoc said. "The existence of life in the
Universe depends upon a cycle. A cycle that includes death and decay
which ultimately results in new life."

Duncan MacLeod sighed. "But it is a fact. You and I are proof. We are
here and we are immortal."

"Facts are not always logical."

"Maybe not, but the facts are there, and that's all that matters!"

The two immortals were strolling along a service corridor within the
bowels of the Deep Space Nine station. Lately, it was one of the few
places where they could find peace, quiet and privacy. The Vulcan,
with his always orderly and logical mind, was having difficulty with
his own immortality, and Duncan had taken it upon himself to help his
new found friend.

"What if all creatures were immortal? It simply would not work!"

"What if everyone were Vulcan?" MacLeod countered with a grin.

Tuvoc mulled this for a minute, "The Universe would be a very logical
place."

"And a very boring place. Look, Tuvoc," Duncan smiled, "I'm not saying
that it's going to be easy. It's never easy. Look at me. I have lived
for almost 800 years! Can you imagine the friends I've made, the women
I've loved? And for what? To simply watch them age and die while I go
on. But, I do go on!"

"Indeed," Tuvoc mused. "But to what purpose?"

"What is the reason for anything?" 

"You are repeating my question."

"What I mean is; must there be a reason for everything? Can't there be
things that are just beyond our understanding? Look, do you believe
that life can be a—a journey, and an adventure?" MacLeod stopped and
turned to Tuvoc.

The Vulcan thought for a moment. "Yes," he said. "That is why I joined
Star Fleet."

"Perhaps part of our adventure is to try to find out why. The Universe
is infinite! We immortals are, perhaps, the only creatures who could
ever possibly see all—or at least most of it!"

Tuvoc was quiet for several long moments. "Indeed!" He began walking
slowly and MacLeod fell into step. "You make us sound like gods!"

"No, not gods," MacLeod smiled. "Just different."

The silence was suddenly ripped by the sound of a distant explosion
and screams.

"This way!" Tuvoc ran ahead. MacLeod was a step behind.

As they turned a corner they could see two men, one lying on the floor
with a large metal support beam on his chest and the other trying in
vain to move it. Both were staring wide eyed at a glowing, smoking
pipe on the wall, hissing loudly as small amounts of white hot
material spewed out.

"What happened?" MacLeod yelled as they approached.

"We were welding a microbreach when this pipe busted!" the standing
man said.

"A plasma conduit!" Tuvoc shouted above the noise. "Get him out of
here! I will help this one!" The Vulcan tugged on the beam while the
man under it groaned.

"You can't move that alone!" MacLeod said.

"Yes, I can!" Tuvoc said as the beam rose several feet. "Can you
move?" he shouted to the man on the floor.

"No!" the man shouted back.       MacLeod and the other workman took
the screaming injured man by his badly burned arms and pulled him
free.

"Get them as far away as you can!" Tuvoc shouted.

The three men moved quickly around the bend in the corridor, the
injured man being dragged by the other two. Tuvoc, seeing the others
out of danger dropped the beam and started to run.

At that moment, the conduit exploded.        *  *  *         It was a
simple service. By special request, Captain Benjamin Sisko took part,
waiting patiently as a Vulcan ambassador performed the traditional
rituals. Around the shiny, black, capsule-shaped coffin stood Miles
and Kako O'Brien, Miles with bandages on his arms and chest, and
Duncan MacLeod and Dr. Julian Bashir, who exchanged solemn glances.

"Mr. O'Brien?" the Captain said when the Vulcan portion of the service
was over.

Miles walked over to the coffin. "Tuvoc, I did not even know you, and
yet I owe you my life. A debt that I intend to at least try to repay.
We never found any records of any surviving kin, but, I plan to take
it upon myself to locate any family you have and tell them of your
heroism and the gratitude of myself and my family. I promise this to
you. Godspeed, my friend."

Sisko read a Bible passage while Kako quietly sang "Amazing Grace."
Slowly, the coffin moved along a track and into an opening in the wall
that irised shut afterwards. Moments later, the computer confirmed
that Tuvoc's body had been fired into space through a photon torpedo
tube.

O'Brien walked over to Duncan. "You were a friend of Tuvoc's."

"Only for a short time."

"Well, I meant what I said. I'm going to search every database in the
Federation and beyond until I find someone. There has got to be
someone somewhere!"

MacLeod smiled.

"And I am indebted to you, too, Mr. MacLeod!" Miles smiled. "I'd shake
your hand, but, well, it will still be a few days before these burns
heal."

"Call me Duncan. And it was my pleasure—I'm sure you would have done
the same for me."

Kako walked over and, with a tear in her eye, kissed MacLeod on the
cheek. "Thank you for bringing my Miles back to me."

"Uh—Duncan," Bashir interrupted, "hadn't you better get going?"

"Oh, yes," MacLeod addressed everyone in the room. "I have an
appointment to keep, and as it is I barely have time to get there.
Thank you, thank you all. I think Tuvoc would have been pleased."

With that, MacLeod rushed to his ship and was quickly on his way.     


*  *  *       

It took almost an hour to catch up with the coffin. MacLeod brought
his ship alongside and activated the transporter. The Vulcan
materialized on the floor, eyes closed and hands crossed on his chest.

"Ok, you can get up now, it's all over." MacLeod said.

Tuvoc's eyes opened slowly and he began to breathe deeply. After a few
seconds, he stood. "I seem to have been in the coffin a bit longer
than planned!"

"I had a hell of a time catching up with you! I didn't know they were
going to fire you out of a damned torpedo tube! Are you alright?"

"I am fine, and I am in your debt."

"Please," MacLeod said, "We have to look out for each other. Besides,
it was Julian's idea to outfit a coffin with life support."

"Indeed. An excellent and logical plan."

"The only problem is," Duncan said as he moved back to the controls at
the front of the ship, "a couple of men saw you die, and some very
important people saw you buried. You're going to have to lay low for a
while. Maybe a very long while. And, did you hear what O'Brien said?"

"About searching for my relatives, yes," Tuvoc frowned. "I am certain
that my parents have had all the necessary databases modified
already." He walked over to the front of the ship and sat next to
MacLeod at the console.

"You know, I'm really not that great a pilot," Duncan said as he
slowly veered the ship away from the capsule.

"I suspected as much. That is why I had several days of oxygen placed
into the coffin."

"Several days?"

"By using a self-induced state of hibernation, I could have survived
for weeks, perhaps longer."

"You would have survived no matter what."

"True. But it would otherwise have been quite uncomfortable. May I ask
where we are going?"

MacLeod pressed a few keys on the console. "To the Ferengi homeworld.
I've got some junk in the back that some Ferengi hotshot is willing to
pay a lot of latinum for."

"I see," Tuvoc paused as he worked some things out in his mind. "With
a deviation of less than 7 hours you could drop me off at Praxis-13.
There is a colony of old-fashioned terra-formers there who would
welcome an additional set of hands, and with no questions asked."

"Oh," Duncan said. "I kind of thought that perhaps you might want to
come with me!"

Tuvoc's eyebrows shot up. MacLeod gave him a sidelong glance—did he
see just a hint of a smile for a second? "Come with you?"

"I did promise to teach you how to be a good immortal. Besides, it
gets a little lonely out here; I was kind of starting to think of us
as partners."

"Partners?"

"You know, like the Lone Ranger and Tonto, or Batman and Robin..."

Tuvoc frowned, "Batman and Robin?"

Mac thought for a moment, "How about like Kirk and Spock?"

"I see," Tuvoc nodded. "You wish for me to be—what is the expression—a
side kick?"

MacLeod Laughed. "I like partners better. Partners are equals. You're
still new to immortality. I'm still a little new to space travel. I am
sure we can help each other out. So, are we partners?" he offered his
hand.

Tuvoc stared at MacLeod for a moment while he digested this. "Yes, we
are partners," he said as he allowed Duncan to shake his hand.

"Good, then you can be the pilot, MacLeod waved his hands over the
console, "I hate doing this. Too damned complicated!"

"Of course," Tuvoc's hands quickly ran across the console as he made
minor adjustments. "There. I have modified the fuel mixture ratios.
Efficiency has been increased by 27%."

MacLeod stared blindly at the console.

"Your fuel will last 27% longer," Tuvoc explained.

"Oh, uh, thanks!"

"Now I shall make a few minor course corrections—" Tuvoc suddenly fell
silent.

"What is it?"

"A ship on long range scanner. I shall put it on the screen."

"That's a ship?" MacLeod said. "Looks more like--" When he turned to  
Tuvoc, he saw something that chilled his spine. The Vulcan, for the
briefest moment, showed an expression of fear—no, terror—on his face.

"Reversing course," Tuvoc said quickly as he worked feverishly at the
console.

"Why?"

"We must leave here as quickly as possible! We are in grave danger!"

"From that?" Duncan pointed at the screen. "How can that pose any
danger to us?"

"Obviously, you have never before encountered the Borg!"




Metamorphosis

by Steve Bellinger
Part Two



"The Borg?" MacLeod eyes widened, "Get us the hell out of here!"

"Then you have heard of them!" Tuvoc had already reversed course and
they were approaching warp speed. "Then also you know how desperate
our situation is!"

"This ship can do warp 5 if you really push it! How fast can they go?"

"Borg ships have been known to exceed warp 9," the Vulcan said as he
switched the viewscreen to rear view. "And they are in pursuit."

"What can we do?"

"I am afraid that I am at a loss!" The ship shuddered violently and
alarms went off. "They have engaged a tractor beam." Tuvoc worked
feverishly to wring every ounce of power from the warp engine. "The
engine is overheating! We cannot fight the tractor beam! Warp engine
is shutting down!"

Suddenly, the bluish glow of a transporter field appeared in the
center of the ship. A moment later, a Borg drone materialized, part
man, part machine, covered with black mechanized armor. The flesh that
was visible on his face, neck and left hand was a mottled gray. He had
a laser emitter over his left eye. The other eye was a pale blue, that
caused MacLeod to shiver when it looked at him. The drone walked
stiffly to a computer port and jacked in with the data-prosthesis on
his right arm.

MacLeod drew a sword from somewhere and swung at the thing. As the
blade came within inches of the drone, it struck an invisible force
field that sizzled upon contact. The energy that was transmitted
through the metal of the sword ripped through MacLeod's body and sent
him flying backwards, headfirst into a bulkhead.  The drone was
oblivious.

"WE ARE BORG!" a voice seemed to come from everywhere. "RESISTANCE IS
FUTILE!" 

Tuvoc's hands flew over the console, rerouting circuits and bypassing
fail-safe systems. He then lifted the panel, reached in and pulled
loose a conduit.

The panel that the drone was connected to exploded. Bolts of plasma
energy danced around its body as smoke rose from the data-prosthesis.
It's body convulsed for several seconds, then it fell to the floor.

MacLeod sat up, rubbing his head. "What the hell did you do?"

"Hopefully I have gained us some time," Tuvoc said as he re-connected
the conduit and closed the panel. "I overloaded the data line to that
port. As you can see it apparently damaged the drone. We have,
perhaps, seconds before the collective on the ship realizes that the
link to this drone has been broken."

"So what do we do with these seconds?"

"I am already on it." Tuvoc slowed the ship to sublight and spun it
around.

MacLeod's jaw dropped. "What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?"

"I am trying to escape," Tuvoc said calmly as the ship was programmed
for a collision course with the Borg ship.

"They'll blast us before we get anywhere near them!"

"If they were going to destroy us they would have done so already."

The tiny ship approached within a few million kilometers of the Borg
cube, then, veered off sharply and went into maximum warp. The Borg
ship also went into warp, continuing on it's original heading.

MacLeod was breathless. "Tuvoc," he said, "Even an immortal can't
survive the matter/anti-matter explosion of a warp core! It would blow
us apart!"

"So I have surmised. However, I had no intention of being blown
apart."

"You were flying right into that thing! We could have crashed into it!
They could have blown us to bits!"

"But, neither happened."

Duncan got up off the floor and dropped himself into the seat next to
the Vulcan. "Ok. So, can you tell me just what the hell did happen
just now?"

"The Borg are part humanoid, part machine. Actually, they are mostly
machine when you consider the entire collective. Being very efficient
machines, they are very logical, like any computer. I reasoned that
the only way to fight such pure logic was with illogic," Tuvoc paused
to check the scanners. The Borg were nowhere to be found. "If you were
chasing an enemy on foot and temporarily lost sight of him, what would
you do?"

"Keep running in the same direction. Sooner or later I'd probably spot
him again."

"Precisely. The logical thing to do. For a few moments, when we
disabled the drone, there was a communications disruption. The
overload must have have distorted the signal on the link. Even though
they had scanners on us, that burst of random energy probably did some
damage on their ship. Even the tractor beam shut down. Once they
rerouted ther systems and realized what happened, they would logically
assume that we were trying to get away and would be doing so on the
same or similar course."

"The last thing they would expect us to do is reverse course and fly
towards them," MacLeod smiled. "That would have been illogical! Tuvoc!
That was brilliant!"

"It was logical. And not without precedent."

"Think they'll come looking for us?"

"We are on a perpendicular course. They will probably have forgotten
about us long before they realize that we are not where they think we
are."

MacLeod sighed. "I see, I think."

"There is one problem," Tuvoc turned to face the center of the ship.
The Borg drone was still lying on the floor. 

"Is he dead?" 

"If he was assimilated," Tuvoc said flatly, "he probably died the day
the implants were installed. Because he is part, possibly mostly,
machine, it may only be malfunctioning, and may even be in the process
of repairing itself as we speak."

"If it's a machine, we should beam it off the ship! If he comes
around, he could call them back." 

"True," the Vulcan said as he stood. "And if he is—or was humanoid, he
is quite likely dead. The logical choice would be to get him off the
ship, quickly."

"Then let's do it," MacLeod stood and they both cautiously approached
the drone. 

"Our encounter with the Borg put a serious strain on our power
reserves," the Vulcan said. "It would be wiser to not use the
transporter and simply jettison the body into space."

"Good," MacLeod said as he stooped to grab it's feet, "help me get it
into the airlock."

Tuvoc took it's shoulders and they lifted. And the laser device over
it's eye fell off and onto the floor.

"Wait a minute!" MacLeod said. "Put him down!"

They lay the drone back on the floor and for the first time noticed
color appearing in it's face. Then, it opened it's eyes.

"My God! I know this man!"

The Borg drone sat up and blinked. His gaunt face turned to MacLeod
with a wicked smile. "Well hello, Duncan!"

"Methos!?"



Metamorphosis

by Steve Bellinger
Part Two


"Methos! What the hell?" MacLeod said as he helped his very old friend
to his feet.

As he stood, metallic armor pieces fell from his body. "Do you have
anything here that I can wear ? I'm going to be quite naked in a few
minutes."

"Oh," MacLeod said. "Sure," He opened a panel and gave him a jumpsuit.
After a minute or two, the prosthesis dropped off and they were able
to pull off the armor that did not fall off on its own. Methos stepped
into the jumpsuit.

"I am afraid I do not understand!" Tuvoc said as he watched Methos
peel the Borg implants off his face.

"How much does he know?" Methos asked Duncan.

"He's one of us. He's immortal. Couldn't you tell?"

"No more than you could while I was in that computerized tin can!"
Methos walked over to Tuvoc and examined his ears. "And what are you,
some kind of overgrown leprechaun or something?"

Tuvoc's eyebrows went up. "No, I am a Vulcan."

"I see," Methos looked at him suspiciously.

"You were kidnapped and assimilated by the Borg?" MacLeod asked.

"No, I volunteered," Methos said nastily. "I enjoy being a mindless
automaton!"

"Well, you haven't changed very much!"

"I assume that the auto regeneration properties of your immortality is
why the implants are failing." Tuvoc said.

Methos squinted as he looked Tuvoc in the eye. "You talk funny!"

"What he is trying to say is that being immortal..." MacLeod started.

"I know what he said." Methos sat down. "Now that I am outside of
their influence I am no longer part of the collective. So my body is
rejecting all of the implants. In a few minutes I'll be puking up nano
drones like mechanized hairballs." He looked up at them. Believe me,
it's not a pretty sight!"

"Then you have experienced this before!" Tuvoc asked.

"Over and over and over again," Methos sighed. "At first, they didn't
understand. They would install an implant and a minute later it would
be rejected and fall off. Unfortunately, they are not known for their
bedside manner—or use of anesthetics, for that matter. It was one
painful operation after another. Then they somehow figured it out.
They injected me with microscopic nano drones to go into my brain and
suppress my healing mechanism."

"Fascinating!"

"That's not the half of it," Methos continued. "They also somehow
figured out that, no matter what happened to me, I would not die. So
they always made me the vanguard of any invasion. I was always the
first one to go—in a manner of speaking."

"So, when I shorted out the computer port and broke the link to the
collective, your natural healing proclivities were returned to you."
Tuvoc.

 "Ah, yes," Methos turned to Duncan, "Is he always like this?"

"Yes. But it does come in handy sometimes."

"But," Tuvoc queried, "if the healing mechanism is suppressed--then
you would be injured and perhaps die if you were attacked. It would
not be logical to send you first everytime!"

Methos shook his head in exasperation, "Look, I am an immortal, not an
engineer! Next time you see a Borg, ask him how it works!" Suddenly,
he began coughing, a loud, painful hacking cough. "The nano drones,"
he said in a choking voice. "Where...?"

"In there," MacLeod directed him to the lavatory. Methos ran inside.

Tuvoc winced slightly as Methos retched and screamed in pain. "Is this
the man you told me about?"

"Yes. The oldest living immortal." MacLeod said. 

"I take it he is a superlative swordsman!"

"He is good, but there are many who are better," MacLeod grinned.

Tuvoc raised an eyebrow. "I do not understand."

"Immortals are people, too, Tuvoc," MacLeod smiled. "Methos managed to
become the world's oldest immortal not by winning fights, but by
avoiding a fight whenever he could."

"Logical!"

"Logic has little to do with it," MacLeod said as he told the Vulcan
about the immortal who masqueraded as a watcher and who once killed
countless thousands of people as one of the Four Horsemen of the
Apocalypse.

"Hmm--I thought they were nothing more than legend!"

"They were real alright, and the man throwing up in the bathroom was
one of them."

Tuvoc looked confused. "And you say that this is the man who runs from
a fight?"

"Avoids a fight," Methos said as he exited the bathroom. "I avoid a
fight, unless I am forced, and then only when I have the odds in my
favor." He wiped a little blood from his mouth.

"That does take the 'adventure' out of it all," Tuvoc mused.

"Yes, well, you can keep your adventure," Methos walked over to the
console, "I'll be quite happy with just keeping my head on my
shoulders, thank you very much! Where are we going?"

"I have business on the Ferengi homeworld," Duncan said. "Then I
thought I'd go back home for a while."

"To Earth?" Methos turned and scowled. "What for?"

"I miss green grass and blue sky."

"There is nothing for us there!" Methos shook his head. "This is the
place to be--the Universe! And infinite place for infinite beings!"

"We are not gods!" Tuvoc interjected.

"Listen, Peter Pan, I have a plan for my life, and it does not include
going back to Earth and being hunted by the remaining immortals there
who still think that 'there can be only one!'" Methos lowered his
voice, "I want nothing to do with any gathering." The room fell silent
for a few moments. "So how soon will we get there?"

"What's your rush?" MacLeod said suspiciously.

"No rush," Methos shrugged, "it was an innocent question."

"Within the hour," Tuvoc said as he sat down at the controls.

"Ferengis," Methos shuddered, "Never had any use for them. Disgusting
little devils. Ah--but MacLeod, you'll like the Ferengi women!"

MacLeod frowned, "What are you talking about?" 

"You know, they are not allowed to wear any clothes," Methos smiled
wickedly, "they are required by law to walk around completely naked!
Should make things easy for you!"

"You're a sick man, Methos!"




Metamorphosis

by Steve Bellinger
Part Three


After negotiations with three Ferengi spaceports, Tuvoc landed the
ship at the one who accepted the lowest landing fee and was near their
final destination. MacLeod assembled the unidentifiable metal parts
that the Ferengi found so valuable and he and Tuvoc set off to make
the deal.

"You're not coming?" MacLeod said to Methos.

"No! I told you, I dislike the Ferengi! They are abhorrent, money
grubbing little creatures! They make my skin crawl. If you don't mind
I'll just stay here and get a little rest. I've been through quite a
lot!"

"Suit yourself," MacLeod said and he and the Vulcan left the ship.

The negotiations were quick. The Ferengi were willing to pay an
unbelievable sum for what MacLeod thought was just so much scrap
metal. With a little dickering he actually got them to pay a little
more. MacLeod took his money and excused himself when the Ferengi man
offered to call his wife and daughter in to meet him.

"That went well!" MacLeod said as he placed the heavy latinum in a
bag.

"I am surprised that you did not hold out for more! It was obvious
that they found the articles to be of great value!" Tuvoc said.

"I am interested in a decent profit. I'm not greedy. Besides, I have
to agree with Methos. Ferengi make me nervous."  They made their way
back to the spaceport, and after paying an unexpected departure fee,
climbed inside their ship.

"Have you ever been to Earth, Tuvoc?"

"Yes, when I was in the Academy," the Vulcan immortal said as the
hatch closed behind him with a faint hiss. "It is a beautiful planet.
I look forward to visiting again."

"So, Methos, are you coming with us or what?" MacLeod fell silent when
there was no answer. "Methos?"

"It would seem that he is not here!"

"Where the hell did he go?" MacLeod clenched his fists. "What kind of
game is he playing now?"

"We shall have to locate him!"

"He's up to something!"

Just then, the hatch doors hissed open and Methos walked in. He was
visibly surprised to see Duncan and Tuvoc. "Well, that was pretty
quick negotiating! I thought these Ferengi were hard-nosed
businessmen!" 

"Don't change the subject! Where the hell were you! We almost left you
here!"

"Well, I'm here now, let's get going!"

"You did not answer the question," Tuvoc said. "Where were you? When
we left, you showed no interest in leaving the ship."

"I went for a walk, OK?" Methos walked over to face Tuvoc. "Don't you
Klingons ever need fresh air?"

"I am not a Klingon, I am a Vulcan."

"Same difference."

"Look, let's just get going, alright?" MacLeod sighed.

Tuvoc got the ship off the ground and into orbit. They left the
Ferengi system and went into warp.

Methos was sitting near the rear of the ship with his head in his
hands. 

"Are you alright?" MacLeod called from the front.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. How fast are we going?" 

"Warp 4.6, why?" Tuvoc said as he turned toward Methos. Duncan turned
also, curious.

Methos lifted his head and stood. He blinked twice and grinned.
Suddenly, there was a jolt and alarms went off.

"We are caught in a tractor beam!" Tuvoc said. He began moving his
hands over the console. "The sensors are out of alignment. I cannot
get an image!" He hands moved faster. "I have an image now!" 

The viewscreen flickered. When it cleared, a Borg ship appeared.

"Sorry that I won't be joining you on your trip home," Methos smiled.
"I'll just be getting off here!" And, with that, he was snatched away
by a transporter beam.               * * *       


Duncan and Tuvoc spent the next hour wondering if and when they were
going to die.

"There is no logical reason for the Borg to 'toy' with us," Tuvoc
said.

"But this is Methos we're dealing with. I told you that he has a
history of ruthlessness--killing for pleasure. We don't know what his
involvement is with the Borg," MacLeod thought out loud. "Doesn't
assimilation involve taking something from the assimilated person and
adding it to the collective?"

"If there is something that the Borg find useful."

"Methos is immortal--maybe their control over him is not complete--
maybe--
maybe--"

"MAYBE I AM THE ONE WHO IS IN CONTROL?" On the viewscreen was the
image of Methos, complete with Borg accouterments.

"That would be logical," Tuvoc said. "The Borg operate on a "hive"
model. Occasionally, a Borg is born with the capacity to lead--to be a
"queen" if you will."

"Methos? A Queen Borg?" MacLeod's head was spinning.

"METHOS OF BORG IS THE LEADER OF THIS COLLECTIVE. WHEN I WAS
ASSIMILATED I SOON DISCOVERED THAT MY IMMORTALITY MADE IT IMPOSSIBLE
FOR THE COLLECTIVE TO ABSORB ME. I WAS ABLE TO TAKE CONTROL AND THIS
COLLECTIVE BROKE AWAY FROM THE LARGER ONE."

"And what are you up to now?" Duncan asked.

"MACLEOD, ALWAYS THE HERO! WHAT AM I UP TO? NONE OF YOUR DAMNED
BUSINESS! YOU DON'T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND! I AM IN CONTROL! I
ORCHESTRATED THIS ENTIRE ENCOUNTER, FROM YOUR GETTING THE "JUNK" THAT
THE FERENGIS WANTED TO ARRANGING THE CONTACT TO INVITE YOU TO THEIR
WORLD."

"Why?"

"SO CURIOUS, VULCAN? I NEEDED INFORMATION FROM A CONTACT ON THE
FERENGI HOMEWORLD, AND I COULD NOT VERY WELL APPROACH THEM AS A BORG!"
Methos' expression turned cold. "ENOUGH OF THIS. I HAVE WHAT I NEED."

Tuvoc and MacLeod nearly fell from their seats as the ship was jolted
again.

"I HAVE REMOVED THE TRACTOR BEAM. YOU ARE FREE TO GO. AND I SUGGEST
THAT YOU GO HOME AS PLANNED," Methos' expression softened. "PERHAPS
WHEN WE MEET AGAIN IT WILL BE UNDER MORE AMICABLE CIRCUMSTANCES."

With that, Methos' face faded from the screen. For a moment, they
could see the Borg ship. The next moment, it zipped out of sight.

"We've got to follow him and find out what he is up to..."

"MacLeod," Tuvoc stopped him as he reached for the controls. "There is
no way we could ever catch up with him. He is already out of sensor
range."

Duncan sighed in exasperation.

"What did you think we could do if we did catch up with him?"

"I don't know. Stop him somehow."

"The best thing that we can do is continue on our course for Earth."

"Right, we can warn Starfleet or somebody."

"Of course, but one Borg ship is no greater or lesser threat than any
other." Tuvoc placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "This is one
instance where there is nothing that you can do!"

MacLeod sat quietly as Tuvoc computed the coordinates for Earth. The
Vulcan, who had experienced many emotional relapses since becoming
immortal could sympathize with him. Perhaps, he thought, if he could
help him get his mind off of it all.

"Curious," Tuvoc said.

"What?"

"While we were on the Ferengi homeworld, I noticed for the first time
the name you have given your ship. I understand it is customary for
humans to ascribe female qualities to space vessels..."

"That's been true since wooden ships sailed the oceans."

"It is also true that the names often have special meaning. Is it true
in this case?"

MacLeod looked up in surprise, "Yes, yes it is."

"I would be most interested in hearing about it!"

MacLeod sighed and smiled and began to tell Tuvoc the story as the
Vulcan engaged the warp drive on the Tessa as they headed for Earth.


The End