Captain's Log Supplemental: Commander Riker, Commander Shelby, and a couple of red shirts--sorry, that's too Kirk Era--yellow shirts beamed over to the Borg Cube. I still don't understand why Starfleet decided to change the color worn by the cannon fodder. I mean, red hid the blood stains so well. But I digress. As the immortal Shakespeare said…ah, screw it. My Earl Grey's getting cold.

* * *

"Report, Number One," Picard said.

"Nothing so far, Captain," Riker's voice reported over the comms. "These idiots are giving us the run of the ship as long as we don't molest them."

"I guess it's a good thing we didn't send Mr. Data with you. He's been lonely lately without any female android companionship."

"Not that kind of molesting, Captain."

"Right. What do you suggest we do?"

"Well, since they seem to be able to adapt to our supposedly superior technology, I think we should go low-tech. Do you think we can replicate a strategic-level hydrogen bomb?"

"Sure. We can replicate anything from Earl Grey to pre-warp civilization costumes. A nuke should be no problem."

Data spoke in technobabblese.

"What'd he say?" Troi asked.

Picard shrugged. "I dunno. Geordi, you speak technobabblese."

"I'm an engineer, Captain, not a translator," Geordi said.

"That's an order, dammit, not a request. Am I running a country club here?"

"Actually, Captain," Troi said, "you have children and civilians on board with holodecks for entertainment. You are running a country club."

"Right. But this isn't a union shop. Geordi, translation."

"Data said that we shouldn't use nuclear weapons," Geordi said.

"Why not?"

Data spoke in technobabblese.

"Because they're Evil Weapons," Geordi translated.

Picard frowned. "Damn. Sorry, Number One, nukes are Evil Weapons."

"What!" Riker demanded.

"It started two hundred years ago in Archer's Era when the Vulcans started genetically manipulating the human male population so that we will no longer be born with testicles."

"Oh. Right. What about Kirk?"

"He was an anomaly," Picard said wistfully. "Ah, but he did know the power of a good right cross. And banging all those alien babes…."

"Captain," Troi said.

"Sorry." Picard thought for a moment, wondering what it would be like to actually have balls enough to do something drastic like blow up an enemy ship before it slaughtered millions of people. "Number One, you have a go. I'll send a couple of nukes right over."

"Thank you, sir," Riker said.

"Make it so, Mr. Data."

Data spoke in technobabblese.

"What?" Picard asked.

"He said, 'Yes, sir,'" Geordi translated.


The hydrogen bombs were easily replicated, as they were merely twentieth century technology. Riker and Shelby beamed back to the Enterprise, but the yellow shirts were mysteriously killed even though the Borg didn't bother the away team. Oh well, they were cannon fodder anyway. They had signed the release form where they understood that upon their deaths they would be forgotten and never mourned by nonexistent family members. Well, unless mourning them was a Deep Plot Point.

The hydrogen bombs, planted deep inside the Borg Cube, succeeded in destroying the ship. Frequency adaptation explained the Borg's ability to adapt to Federation phasers, but there was no frequency adaptation involved with the sheer physical force and tremendous heat of a nuclear explosion.

* * *

Somewhere in the Delta Quadrant, the Borg Collective stopped laughing their collective asses off. The puny Federation still had inferior-designed starships whose weaknesses were easily exploited by someone as dumb as a Klingon, but one of the humans had actually used…gasp…deadly weapons! Maybe he wasn't the only human willing to use such force.

Screw you guys, we're going home.

* * *

Back on Earth, in San Francisco, Captain Picard was demoted for the audacity of using Evil Weapons, even if it was for the greater good of protecting Federation citizens. He should have found an obscure, kinder, gentler, high technology-based way to handle the situation without resorting to detonating The Most Evil Weapon Civilization Ever Devised.