"Park, port one-three-zero, fifteen degree down! Tess!" "Locked and firing!" My blue friend hammers her trigger pad as Park yaws left and depresses the bow, and streams of light lance out from the dorsal and ventral phasers and finally batter down the Borg cube's shields as the Benthan cruiser 150 klicks to starboard adds its fire. "Torpedoes!" "Firing, fore tube!" A volley of purple-glowing thunderbolts shriek from below the saucer and the cube's transwarp drive detonates in a green fireball as we bank away. Tess responds, "Don't worry, Chief, I've kept count. We'll have enough." "Yessir!"