The Gallant
Seven's first command has to confront danger – and the future.
[Author's Note: This story takes place two years after the return of Voyager to the Alpha Quadrant.]
"There's more energy in it than any warp core I've ever seen, and it's twice as dangerous as any Hirogen," said B'Elanna Torres.
"It is a two-year-old child," said Seven of Nine.
"Exactly," said B'Elanna. Her daughter was in the process of spreading food on the ToddlaTeacha computer, her Klingon brow furrowed in concentration. "Well, that should keep her quiet for a few minutes. So what's on your mind, Seven? Did you just drop by to tell me about your work at the Emerging Technologies Division? I somehow doubt you want to reminisce about Voyager. You were never one for small talk."
Seven looked out the window of the apartment at the city of San Francisco below. She wondered if this was a good idea.
"I … require advice," she said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Of a … personal nature."
"Ah," said B'Elanna. "Does this have to anything to do with you and Chokotay?"
Seven nodded. "He believes … that he and I … he thinks … that we should marry. This … this is not something in which I have experience."
B'Elanna laughed. "No-one does," she said. "And you want me to tell you if it's something you should do or not?"
"Well, yes," said Seven. This conversation, she thought, had seemed much easier when she had carefully planned it.
"I don't think you do," B'Elanna said. "I think you've already decided. You just needed to tell someone." Her daughter had finished destroying her toy and was now trying to climb the trouser leg of Seven's Starfleet uniform. Seven looked at the little creature with a certain perplexity.
"No, I … well … perhaps you are right," she said finally. She smiled, a sensation that still felt unusual to her. She suddenly felt relieved.
"And where is the lucky fellow?" said B'Elanna.
"In the D'War sector, I believe," Seven said. "He asked me before he left, and I said I would reply when I saw him again."
"Well," said B'Elanna. "Let me be the first to congratulate you. Both of you. Tom will be home soon and then he can be the second. He'll be delighted to hear it."
At that moment, Seven's communicator wallet beeped. She flipped it open, and the face of Admiral Janeway appeared on the little screen. Seven turned it so that the Admiral could see her former engineer.
But Admiral Janeway was, this day at least, in no mood for pleasantries. "Seven, report to this office at once," she said. "I'm afraid there is some bad news. About Chokotay. His ship ... it's disappeared."
"How much," said Admiral Janeway, when Seven was in her office, "do you know about the Deep Shadow project?"
"The research work is being done in a different part of the Emerging Technologies Division to mine," Seven said. "But I understand that it is advanced stealth technology."
"Specifically, a cloak designed to evade Borg sensors," said Janeway, passing a padd to Seven. "As you know, the Borg have assimilated Klingon and Romulan ships, so they are fully aware of their cloaking technology. What we are working on is a superior type of cloak, based partly on the one used by the Remen ship Scimitar. What we could re-construct of it, anyway."
"I was not aware that Chokotay was associated with this project," said Seven.
"Only indirectly," said Janeway. "His recent mission was to command the first ship to run an actual test of the cloak. Testing and data-gathering. Simulations are all very well but at some point there has to be the real thing."
"But that would require – " Seven's voice trailed away as she realised the implications of Janeway's words.
"Yes," said the admiral. "The Borg. They are here. In the Alpha Quadrant. In the D'War sector."
Seven felt a tremor of fear run along her spine.
"And that is a mystery in itself," Janeway continued. "The Borg have tried to move into the Alpha quadrant before but have always been defeated. We have always known that they would try again. That's why so much of our defence research effort – of which you are a very important part, let me say – is dedicated to developing anti-Borg weapons. The Deep Shadow project was part of that."
Seven nodded. She had always known that the Borg would, one day, return. She had participated in – and had even helped to develop – the computer simulations about the eventual outcome of the struggle. Those simulations all led to one conclusion. Unless there was a radical, fundamental change, the Borg would win. Eventually. Ultimately.
Janeway touched her computer console and the screen behind her produced an image of the large but remote D'War sector. It was uninhabited, except for a few small mining operations and a sprinkling of frontier settlers. Hardly good territory for the Borg, thought Seven. They preferred systems rich in population and technology, the better to assimilate others into their own kind.
A red area appeared on the screen. "According to our ultra-long-range scans, their base is somewhere around here," Janeway said. "That's an area of several light years, of course. The scans are too distant to narrow it down further, and it may be shielded. Anyway, the base has been there for a year. And, apparently, very little has changed."
"That is unusual," said Seven. "If this is the first step of a new invasion, they would have advanced by now."
"I agree," said Janeway. "It is possible that the virus that I – that is, my older self from the alternate timeline – used to infect the Borg queen has something to do with it. We don't know – and not knowing is worrying, when you are talking about the Borg. So Chokotay volunteered to take a Sabre-class ship, the Encounter, equipped with the Deep Shadow cloak, to find out what was happening. A few hours ago, we lost contact with the ship. Just gone."
"I would like to lead a rescue mission," said Seven.
Janeway smiled. "I had a feeling you would," she said. "But, Seven, you must realise that this would be a Starfleet mission, not a personal one. It's a dangerous mission, and Chokotay understood the risks. I know about your feelings for Chokotay, and his for you, but it should not affect your judgement. The mission is to find out about the activities of the Borg as much as it is to find the Encounter. In fact, if there was anyone else in the Federation who knew more about the Borg than you, I would be sending them. But, of course, there is not."
"I understand," said Seven, without a trace of emotion.
Janeway looked closely at her former protégé. Seven now wore a Starfleet uniform, and held the rank of commander. But she still retained the Borg implants on her face and arm, even though they could have easily been removed. And she had not chosen to re-adopt her human name, Anika Hansen. When Voyager had returned to Earth two years ago, Seven had lived with her aunt – her only relative – for several months before moving into an officer's apartment of her own. But, Janeway knew, the relationship between Seven and Chokotay, which had begun in a halting way on Voyager, had blossomed, and the two of them often shared either her or his apartment, when their Starfleet duties did not separate them.
Janeway handed Seven another padd and a data file. "You'll need a crew," she said. "I've taken the liberty of drawing up a list of possibilities. And here are the specifications of the ship assigned to this mission, the Gallant. It's a sister to the Encounter, and it's equipped with the Deep Shadow cloak – for what it's worth."
Seven nodded, and rose to leave.
"And," said Janeway, "good luck."
It was the captain's chair, in the middle of the bridge of the Gallant. Seven hesitated for a moment before taking it.
"Lieutenant Nog," she said. "Set course for the D'War system. Maximum speed."
"Aye, Captain," said the Feringi, as his fingers played over the console. The Sabre-class ship, with a crew of 25, slipped away from the dock and turned for deep space.
Seven looked around at her bridge crew, all of whom had volunteered when she had approached them. She had not previously met Lieutenant Nog, or any Feringi, but he had a letter of commendation from Benjamin Sisko in his file, and that carried a lot of weight. And it appeared that he knew how to work a helm.
At the engineering station was Lieutenant Naomi Wildman, an old friend from Voyager. She was now the equivalent of twenty-two years old – her race grew faster than humans – and had a reputation for knowing the 'feel' of a ship, perhaps the result of being born and raised on one.
At sensors/communications was Icheb, also from Voyager – another individual intimately acquainted with the Borg. He had spent the past year working in the Emerging Technologies Division, applying the knowledge he had gained in the Delta Quadrant to the defence of the Federation.
The science station was manned by Doctor Bashir, who also ran medical. Like Nog, he had fought through the hardest straits of the Dominion War from the base of Deep Space Nine. But Seven was not primarily interested in his battle experience. She knew that his intelligence had been (illegally) augmented, and had asked only one question of him: if necessary, could he return a Borg to its human state? He had considered it, and then said that only a handful of doctors could do it. He, of course, was one.
The last member of the bridge team was Reginald Barclay, the eccentric genius who had been responsible for the Pathfinder project that had guided Voyager home. More recently, he had been the key figure in the development of the Deep Shadow technology. As the Gallant sped towards the D'War system, he did not seem particularly comfortable, although as First Officer he was technically second-in-command.
The rest of the crew had been selected on the basis of experience and expertise, but none had before served on the ship. Seven's first thought had been to approach more of her friends from Voyager, but it had not proved possible. Harry Kim was now in command of his own ship, and was somewhere on the Romulan border. Tuvok was on Vulcan, on long-term leave from Starfleet. The Doctor was thoroughly immersed in the political battle over the rights of holograms. Tom Paris was engaged as a Starfleet test pilot and designer, and in any case Seven could not bear the thought of asking him to leave his wife and daughter.
No matter, thought Seven. It was a good crew, especially given the speed with which it had been assembled. And the chair was even beginning to feel comfortable.
"Permission to run some tactical tests," said Nog, interrupting her thoughts. "They will not detract from our estimated arrival time, and might even cut it down."
"Proceed," said Seven.
Nog took the ship through a series of manoeuvres, taking it up to its top speed of warp ten and holding it there.
"Port lascalle rattles a bit," said Naomi.
"Define," said Seven.
"Rattles … a … bit," repeated Naomi. "I'll take a hammer down a Jeffries tube and bang it into shape."
"What!?" said Nog.
"Hey, it's a joke," said Naomi. She pushed a few buttons. "There, all fixed. Should be a slight increase in reactor efficiency."
"Zero point zero zero zero three," said Reg.
"Better than nothing," commented Nog.
"And speed is of the essence," said Seven.
Nog brought the Gallant out of hyperspace at the edge of the D'war sector. Icheb began a series of scans.
"I have made some modifications to the scanners," Icheb said. "An algorithm of my own." After a while, he said: "I am picking up a faint ion trail, probably the result of a plasma leak. Borg signature. Headed towards the fifth planet of a red dwarf star. It's an N2-class planet."
"Suitable for humanoid life, but not particularly pleasant," said Bashir.
"Mr Nog, follow the trail," ordered Seven.
The trail led them to a surprising find. It was the wreck of a small Borg ship, a scout. Scans showed no sign of life.
Seven, Naomi and Bashir beamed down. It was a harsh, dry planet wracked by savage winds. The team wore environmental suits.
It was clear that the ship had not crashed by accident. There were blast marks on the side, and a gash had been torn in the hull.
"Odd," said Naomi, as she read her tri-quarter. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that these blasts were caused by Borg weapons."
"But why would the Borg destroy one of their own ships?" mused Bashir.
They went inside, but the ship had been stripped. It seemed that everything that could be removed was gone. There were no bodies.
"Just a minute," said the doctor. "Here's something." He extracted a small data-module from the wreckage. It was damaged but glowed faintly. He activated it and scrolled through the flickering data. "It's the equivalent of a ship manifest," he said.
"I was not aware you could read Borg," said Seven.
"I learned last night," said Bashir. "Well, just the vocabulary and basic grammar. And the syntax. Thought it might come in handy. Tell me, how many Borg would usually be on a ship like this?"
"The standard crew of a scout is 15," said Seven.
"Well, this one had only six," said Bashir.
"Can you tell where the base is?" said Naomi.
"Just a moment … yes, I think this is it." He showed the module to Seven, who nodded.
Naomi touched her communicator badge. "Nog, kick the tyres and light the fires!" she said.
"Uh …. okay," came Nog's voice through the communicator, as he activated the teleporter.
Reginald Barclay often seemed uncertain in any sort of social interaction, but was remarkably articulate when explaining the Deep Shadow technology.
"The key characteristic of Borg scanners is that they operate on multi-spectrum frequencies," he said to the assembled bridge crew in the conference room of the Gallant, calling up a series of technical diagrams on the screen. "They are constantly rotating through visible and invisible wavelengths. That's how they have been able to discover Klingon and Romulan ships. Their cloaks operate on only a single part of the spectrum, although of course a part invisible to conventional scanners and the naked eye.
"The difference with the Deep Shadow cloak is that it also rotates through multi-spectrum frequencies, although of course it always remains in the invisible segment."
"But to be effective, wouldn't you need to know the frequency settings of the Borg scanners?" asked Naomi.
"Well, yes," replied Reg. "We have examined every piece of Borg hardware and software that we have, and we think we have a good idea of it."
"A good idea!?" exclaimed Nog.
"Well, to have a better idea we would … er, need to be closer," said Reg.
"Closer?" said Bashir. "Closer to what?"
"To the Borg, obviously. Specifically, to a Borg surveillance unit."
"How close?" said Seven.
"Close enough to do a detailed scan. A thousand kilometres or so would be good. It would only take a few seconds."
Everyone else around the table looked at each other. A thousand kilometres. Spitting distance for the Borg, if the Borg could spit.
"I believe that the Deep Shadow cloak as presently configured will in any case give us a short window of opportunity," Reg said.
"Mister Barclay," said Seven. "Have you ever actually been in contact with the Borg?"
"Uh, well, I've done a number of simulations. On the holodeck. I know a lot about holodecks. And research, I've done a lot of research. But actual contact, no, I can't say I have."
Naomi let out a little groan, stifling it after a stern glance from Seven.
"Anything else we should know?" said Bashir.
"No, that's about it," said Reg. "Oh, we can't use our phasers or launch torpedoes while cloaked. And it uses a lot of power, so about ten minutes at a time is the maximum. We can still use the communicator and teleporter, though."
"Wonderful," said Nog.
The communications unit on the table whistled. It was Lieutenant Harris, temporarily in command on the bridge.
"Captain to the bridge," he said. "We have found something. Wreckage. Of the Encounter."
With the others, Seven returned to the bridge. She had to force herself to walk, not run.
Seeing the wreckage of the ship was like a blade turning slowly in her chest, but anyone watching her would have seen no sign.
"The wreckage has been drifting due to solar winds," said Icheb. "Extrapolating the course backwards indicates that the ship would have been destroyed very close to the Borg base. There is no sign of survivors."
"This does not change our mission," said Seven. "Mister Nog, hold our course. Icheb, continue long-range scans for Borg ships. I will be in my ready room. Mister Barclay, you have the bridge."
With that, she left the bridge for the adjoining room that served as her captain's office.
It was only when she began to prepare the message informing Starfleet of the destruction of the Encounter that the reality hit her. Chokotay was dead. Yes, she knew that many others had died on the ship as well, but she had not loved them. That was the simple fact: the person she loved was gone.
She suddenly realised that she had never told Chokotay that. She had tried but the words would not form. She had hoped he would understand.
Tears flooded from her eyes, and she could not stifle the sobs that seemed to burn through her. She had heard people speak of broken hearts but had never understood what it meant – until now.
I wish I could stop this feeling, she said to herself. I wish my heart was made of stone.
I wish … I wish I was again Borg.
Her communicator beeped.
"Captain to the bridge," said Reg.
She wiped her eyes as best she could and re-entered the bridge.
"We … we have company," said Reg, relinquishing the captain's chair with what seemed to be a sigh of relief.
"A Borg cube, two million kilometres," said Icheb. "The edge of scanner range."
"Any sign that they have seen us?" said Seven.
"I've analysed their movement pattern and it shows no change," said Bashir. "A routine patrol, I would say."
Seven nodded. "Mister Barclay, bring the Deep Shadow cloak on-line," she said.
"Cross your fingers and think good thoughts," said Naomi. "Captain, request permission to change station to engineering. I think we're going to need all the power we can get if we're going to use the cloak."
"Granted," said Seven, and Naomi left the bridge. "Icheb, anything further?"
"A Borg sphere has just entered scanner range, not far from the cube and following a course parallel to our own," said Icheb. "That's not good."
"Why not?" said Nog.
"Spheres are designed as scouts," said Seven. "Their scanners are generally more sensitive than those of cubes."
"Deep Shadow ready," said Reg.
"Engage," said Seven. "Mister Nog, head for that cube … but carefully."
The Gallant edged closer to the cube. It seemed to fill the viewscreen. "The size of it," gasped Nog. "I didn't know … it would be so … "
"Big," finished Bashir.
"Something peculiar," said Icheb. "I am picking up bio-signs for only eight hundred and ninety-two Borg on the cube. And only 56 on the sphere. Well below the usual numbers."
"Deep Shadow operating, but there is only sufficient power for another two minutes," said Reg. "And stability is beginning to deteriorate."
"Captain, this is exactly what the Encounter would have done," said Bashir. "And remember what happened to them."
"I am unlikely to forget," said Seven. "Icheb, any sign that we have been detected?"
"No … wait, the sphere has turned towards us. Now on an intercept path."
"Shall I reverse course, captain?" said Nog.
"No," said Seven. "They are faster. Head straight towards the cube. Close as you can get."
"Towards the cube!?" said Nog in disbelief.
"Cloak losing stability," said Reg. "Seriously."
"Almost in weapons range," said Icheb. "Fifteen seconds."
"Drop cloak, all power to engines and shields," said Seven. "Mister Nog, your record states that you are an excellent combat pilot. Is it correct?"
"Yes, ma'am!" said the Feringi. "Let's show these guys how to fly!"
He put the Gallant into a tight corkscrew manoeuvrer as the sphere fired a disruptor bolt. But the sudden advance of the Federation ship had caught the Borg by surprise.
Now the cube began to turn to fire.
"Doctor Bashir," Seven said. "Analyse the cube's fire pattern. It is slaved to their sensor array. At this range, there may be a gap."
The ship shuddered as one of the disruptor bolts hit. But the shields held. The Gallant was too close, and was moving too fast, for the cube's weapons to get an effective lock.
Nog pulled the ship into another tight turn and was again racing along the side of the cube. They seemed to be only meters from the surface.
But now they were locked into a pattern of staying close. And the sphere had changed position to intercept them when they emerged on the other side. Only seconds left.
"Doctor Bashir?" said Seven.
Chokotay slowly swam back to consciousness. For a moment, he thought he could sense Seven by his side, sleeping peacefully. He started to reach out, but a vicious stab of pain in his arm jerked him into an awful reality. His next thought was: everything hurts.
Gradually, the pain became to focus itself into parts of his body. His left arm felt broken, and the right side of his head was caked with dried blood. I'm alive, he murmured. But only just. He closed his eyes against the pain.
What's the last thing you remember, he asked himself. Yes, it was on the Encounter. They had been using the experimental Deep Shadow cloak, and it appeared to be working. They were approaching a Borg structure, and were close to getting the crucial readings of the Borg scanners. Then a sphere suddenly veered towards them.
"They've seen us!" shouted the helmsman, a Klingon by the name of Var'l.
"Get us out of here, full speed," said Chokotay. "Evasive action, pattern sigma six!"
The Encounter began to turn but the sphere anticipated the move. It fired a full burst of disruptor beams, and a few moments later a second Borg ship appeared and joined the attack. Chokotay looked at his readout and saw that the cloak was no longer operating.
"Return fire!" ordered Chokotay. "Photon torpedoes, full spread!"
"Shields down to 40 per cent!" shouted O'Rog, the First Officer, above the noise of the near-constant Borg bolts. "Heavy casualties in all sections!"
A Borg cube came into view. A few more seconds, and it would be in tractor beam range. If that happened, thought Chokotay, the Encounter would be helpless. And then the Deep Shadow technology would be assimilated into the Collective. Odd, he thought, there's only one cube. But one will be enough.
He punched the buttons on his command chair that began the ship's self-destruct sequence.
"They're trying to get a teleporter beam through!" said O'Rog. "Shields down to – " Then the console between them exploded, flinging them across the bridge. Injured and bleeding, Chokotay began to crawl back to the command chair. Despite the wild pitching of the stricken ship, he reached it. The Encounter shuddered again under another blow.
He pushed the button. "Seven," he whispered. "Goodbye."
Then he felt the cold shiver of a Borg teleport beam. And consciousness slipped away.
"The famous Chokotay, of the famous Voyager," said a voice, at once both Borg and female.
He opened his eyes. With an effort, he looked around. He was on a Borg ship, in a chamber, lying on a long bench.
"You have me at a disadvantage," he said, wincing at the effort the words required. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he made out the form of a Borg. At first he thought it was another of the clones of the Borg queen, but on closer inspection he realised that this specimen was different. She wore the body armour and accruements of a Borg drone, but her pale face was devoid of implants. A series of cables ran from the back of her head where her hair might have been. She had once been humanoid, perhaps even human. But, thought Chokotay, that was long ago.
"You may call me Select," she said. "I am leader here."
"I didn't know that Borg had names," he said.
"Sometimes it is convenient when dealing with lesser species," she said. "Such as yours."
"If I am so lesser, why are you talking to me?" he said. He slowly sat up and looked around. It appeared to be a chamber in the cube. "In my current shape, I don't think I'd make much of a drone, if that's what you have in mind. So what do you want?"
"Must I want anything?"
Strange, thought Chokotay. I've never heard a Borg ask a question before, let alone a rhetorical one.
"You are Borg," he said. "You always want something, and it's usually the same thing."
"Yes," said Select. "I am Borg, and therefore superior. We brought you here specifically because you are a lesser species. That is what we need."
"The collective has assimilated humans before."
"Yes, but that has not been of assistance to us in determining the true nature of your species."
The chamber door behind Select opened and two drones entered. "Reporting assimilation connection failure in module 1739, sub-unit D-Y65, junction 981FR54," he said to Select. "Three drones."
"Terminate the connection failures," said Select.
Even stranger, thought Chokotay. As Seven had explained it, the Borg shared a hive mind, aware of each other's thoughts. But the fact that Select had to be told information pointed in a quite different direction.
The Borg who had spoken turned to leave. But the other did not move. After a few seconds, he turned towards the door, and then turned back to Select. "The connection failures … I … I do not think – " he stammered.
Select's response was immediate. She lifted her arm, and Chokotay saw that, like many Borg, there was a disruptor unit attached to the armour. She fired a bolt, and it struck the Borg directly in the chest. The force lifted him from his feet and slammed him into the chamber wall. The body crumpled to the ground, dead.
"No," said Select. "You don't." She turned to the other Borg. "Remove this unit, and then complete your orders."
When the other Borg had departed, she turned again to Chokotay.
"Well," he said. "Looks like you have a discipline problem on your hands."
"And you," said Select, "will tell me why."
From a console, there was a beep. On the viewscreen, the image of a Federation ship, under fire from the Borg, appeared. Chokotay lifted himself on to his good arm to see it. The image was blurred, shifting, and Chokotay realised that the Federation ship – a Sabre, he noted – was incredibly close to the cube, skimming the surface. Quite a pilot there, he thought.
"Your friends have no chance," Select said. "It will be over in a few moments. The cloaking technology of that ship is now ineffective."
They both watched, waiting for the Federation craft to emerge from the relative protection of the cube.
But it did not. It appeared to have simply … vanished.
"You were saying?" said Chokotay.
"It is simply a question of time," said Select.
"Your analysis appears to have been correct, Doctor," said Seven. "You are to be commended, as are you, Mister Nog."
"Thanks, but the idea was yours," said Bashir. "How did you know that there might be a blind spot on the cube's surface?"
"It helps to have seen one from the inside," said Seven.
The Gallant was sitting on the surface of the cube, using its docking clamp to hold itself in position. Its power output was at the lowest possible level.
"I am picking up what appears to be a Borg scanning unit," said Icheb. "Near the cube."
Seven touched her communicator badge. "Lieutenant Wildman, do we have enough power to use the cloak?"
"We took some hits but I'm getting some bypasses into place," said Naomi over the communicator. "Ten minutes, maybe."
"You have five," said Seven. She knew that the Gallant might be undetectable from inside the cube but any other Borg ship that happened to look in their direction would see them quite plainly. "Mister Barclay," she said, "are we close enough to the Borg scanners to get the information you need?"
"Not while we're this close to the cube," he said. "There's too much interference. But otherwise we are close enough. In theory."
"Captain," said Icheb from the scanner station. "I am running scans of the inside of the cube. I am picking up sporadic disruptor fire, from hand-held weapons, I think."
"What, they're fighting amongst themselves?" said Bashir.
"More like a dozen shooting at one or two," said Icheb. "And there is something else. I am picking up a human life sign. Captain … I believe … I think it is Commander Chokotay. He's alive. Hurt, but alive."
Chokotay's alive, thought Seven. Her heart leapt. She wondered if the rest of the crew could hear it thumping.
She fought to keep her voice steady. "Mister Icheb, can you provide co-ordinates?" she said.
Naomi reappeared on the bridge. "Done, but stuck together with spit and paper clips, so try not to hit too many bumps," she said. Strangely, she was wiping her hands on an oily rag, despite the fact that the Gallant did not use oil in any way. She saw Nog looking at her. "It's an engineer thing," she said, with a shrug, stuffing the rag into her pocket.
"I have him, I think," said Icheb, reading off a string of numbers.
"Not too deep in," said Bashir. "Can we use the teleporter?"
"The Borg would detect it immediately, and block it," said Seven.
"There may be an alternative," said Nog. "We're right on their outer hull, right? So what we need is – "
"A can opener!" said Naomi.
"Do we have a can opener on board?" said Seven, not entirely sure what a can opener was.
"There's a cutting torch in the repair equipment hold," said Nog. "Should do it. The docking clamp provides a pressurised area to work in, just like an airlock."
"Lieutenant Nog, Lieutenant Wildman, proceed with … the can opener," said Seven.
Naomi and Nog went off, already arguing about the best method to cut their way into a Borg cube.
"Odd pair," muttered Bashir, after they had gone. "Probably end up getting married."
Chokotay heard the distant bursts of disruptor fire within the cube, then silence.
"Sounds like your command is falling apart," he said to Select, who was studying the viewscreen. She was looking at the sphere, which was simply hanging motionless in space. Even more puzzling, thought Chokotay. Borg ships seldom remained still. They always had a purpose, had a plan, had a direction. But these Borg … what was going on?
There was another round of disruptor fire.
"Sounds like you soon won't have anyone to give orders to," he said.
"There have been some … connection failures," said Select. "A technical problem that will soon be rectified."
"If you believed that, you would have either killed me or turned me into a drone by now," said Chokotay.
"There is still time," said Select.
A drone entered.
"There is no sign of the Federation ship," he said. "But scanners indicate that four cubes are approaching. At the edge of scanner range."
Select nodded – something else, mused Chokotay, that he had never seen a Borg do.
"Reinforcements?" he said.
Select said nothing.
"Or enemies?" Chokotay said.
Select glanced at him.
"That's it, isn't it?" said Chokotay. "I'm guessing that your presence here in the Alpha Quadrant is not exactly official Borg business."
"Perhaps," said Select. "Tell me something, human. I believe there is a term you use: 'between a rock and a hard place'. What exactly does it mean?"
"That there are two alternatives, equally bad."
"And how do you choose between them?"
"The idea of the saying is that you can't, logically."
"This is not an idea acceptable to the Borg. There is always a tactical choice that is more logical, more efficient, more effective."
"That's why it's a human saying. If, for example, you have the choice of either fighting a battle you cannot possibly win – with four Borg cubes, say – or seeing your own people slowly kill each other, it's hard to see which course is better. If those were your only choices."
Select said nothing for some time. Then she said: "I see no other choices."
"Then you have to tell me something, Select. What is the source of the problem? It's the Janeway virus, isn't it?"
Select nodded again.
"It has caused many problems within the collective mind," she said. "The voice of the Borg … it began to become many voices. In the Matrix hive I led, there began to be dissent and disagreement. It became difficult to establish the intent of the collective will. Some Borg wished to leave. But some wanted to stay, and there were more of us than the others. There was fighting. The Master Program determined that all Borg in the sector should be destroyed, to stop the virus from spreading further.
"I did not want to be destroyed. So I gathered together those who thought as I did, and we severed our connection with the larger mind. We came here, establishing our own Hive. But the virus continued to spread, with the number of Borg wanting to leave the new hive slowly increasing. We have had to destroy many of the infected units. But the contamination continues. And now the Master Program has found us."
"I see," said Chokotay. "The rock and the hard place."
"Yes," said Select. "Two paths, which lead to the same destination."
"May I remind you, Captain," said Nog, as the group stood in the pressurised hatchway, "that Starfleet Protocol 17-92A/33 strongly suggests that ship commanders do not go on Away missions where there is a high probability of danger."
"I appreciate your knowledge of regulations," said Seven.
"Regulations smegulations," said Naomi, as she completed the circular cut in the Borg hull. She kicked the metal, which fell away. She pulled a phaser from her belt. "Let's rock," she said. She jumped through the hole into the gloom.
"Lieutenant Nog, please return to the bridge," said Seven. "If we fail, your piloting skills will be needed. Mister Barclay, if circumstances warrant, you must assume command of the Gallant and return to Starfleet space, with the Deep Shadow technology."
Her com-badge beeped. It was Icheb, on the bridge.
"Long-range sensors show four Borg cubes approaching," he said.
"Understood," said Seven.
Naomi's voice drifted up through the hole. "You guys coming or what?" she called.
"Doctor Bashir," said Seven. "Shall we … rock?"
In answer, Bashir drew his phaser and jumped through the hole. Seven followed.
Bashir and Seven found that the hole opened to a service crawlspace, which in turn opened into a larger corridor.
At the end of the corridor, they found Naomi, standing over the body of a Borg.
"I didn't do it," she said. "Looks like he was killed by some of his own."
Bashir held up his tri-quarter. "This way," he said.
"Why," said Chokotay, "do you want to stop your Borg drones from leaving?"
"Because it is the Borg way to seek unity," said Select. She was watching the viewscreen, which showed the four cubes approaching.
"But you did not follow the Borg way when you assumed command of this group and left Borg space," said Chokotay.
Select considered. "That is perhaps true," she said.
"You made a choice," he said. "On the same basis, should you not allow any drones who wish to leave to make the same choice?"
"Perhaps," said Select. "But I believe the question is irrelevant." She pointed at the screen.
"Hmm," said Chokotay. "Are the Borg on those cubes also infected with the virus?"
"All Borg communities have been infected, to some extent," she said. She activated a control on the viewscreen panel. "Sensors show that all four cubes are below their standard complement of drones. That would indicate a significant level of infection."
"Then perhaps there is another path," said Chokotay.
"What do you suggest?" said Select.
"Sixty meters ahead," said Bashir, studying his tri-quarter.
But as they rounded a corner, they came face-to-face with two Borg. Immediately, the Borg lifted their weapons and fired.
Seven, Bashir and Naomi dived for cover behind a pillar and returned fire, but against the Borg's frontal shields there was little effect.
Seven's badge sounded.
"Uh, Captain, it's me, Reg, uh, I mean, First Officer Barclay," said Reg. "Er, those Borg cubes are really getting rather close."
"I have faith in your capacity to use your best judgement, Mister Barclay," said Seven. She closed the link and continued to fire.
"Doctor, Lieutenant, hold your fire for approximately fifteen seconds," she said. "I believe that the Borg will expose themselves for a very short interval at that time."
She set her phaser to overload. As it began to whine, she threw it into the far corner of the corridor, past the two Borg. It exploded with a red flash. The two Borg turned, aiming their weapons at the source of the flash.
"Now!" said Seven.
Bashir and Naomi threw themselves across the corridor, rolling across the floor. They came up with a clear shot at the distracted Borg, whose primary protective shields were now facing the wrong way. Bashir and Naomi fired. The Borg fell.
"Sounds like the cavalry has arrived," said Chokotay. A moment later, Seven, Bashir and Naomi burst threw the door. Select raised her weapon … and then lowered it.
"Great to see you, although I don't know how you got here," said Chokotay. Bashir opened his med-kit and began to treat Chokotay's injuries.
"And I see you are still alive, Commander Chokotay," said Seven, although her heart was again pounding.
"What, that's all you're going to say?" said Naomi. "Shouldn't you be throwing yourself into his arms or something?"
"I should not," said Seven. "And you are close to insubordination, Lieutenant."
"There are four Borg cubes almost within firing distance," said Select.
"Meet Select," said Chokotay. "Select, can you open a direct channel to all the drones on those cubes? By-pass the cube commanders?"
"Yes," said Select.
"Then you must tell them that they can be free," said Chokotay. "Tell them they don't have to obey the Master Program. They can go where they want, and be what they want. Starfleet will even help them remove their Borg implants, if that is what they wish. You have been the leader here, Select. Speak like a leader."
Select hesitated. Then she began to speak into the communicator. She spoke for what seemed like a long time.
When she had finished, three of the cubes began to slow. One of them, the rearmost, began to turn away.
The two leading cubes immediately fired on it, even as another began to turn. There was an exchange of massive bolts of energy. One of the cubes that had turned away exploded, but not before damaging one of its attackers. The leader of the fleet turned its attention to the cube commanded by Select. It began to fire.
Seven, Chokotay, Bashir, Naomi, and Select felt the vessel shudder with the impact of the blasts. Seven touched her comm-badge. "Trying – lock – interference – " came the voice of Reg through static.
"There are not sufficient drones to defend this cube," said Select. "And our engines have been severely damaged."
"Then I suggest we … run," said Seven. "And quickly."
The five of them made for the corridor, heading for the side of the cube closest to the Gallant. Around them was confusion, as bulkheads collapsed and consoles exploded. Some drones ran, others stood absolutely still, merely awaiting their destruction. Drones from the other cube began to appear.
Finally, they had gone as far as they could go, and were trapped in a maintenance chamber. Select closed a bulkhead door behind them.
From the other side of the door, there was the whine of Borg teleport beams. Then there was the sound of disruptor blasts, hammering at the bulkhead. Bashir and Naomi drew their phasers again, and Select raised her disruptor.
Seven turned to Chokotay.
"The answer is yes," she said.
He smiled. "Glad to hear it," he said.
"So kiss her already!" said Naomi.
He smiled again. Then he put his good arm around Seven and kissed her tenderly, and she kissed him back, with passion.
The bulkhead was almost gone.
Seven touched her comm-badge again. "Five for emergency beam-out on this comm-signal," she said. "Do what you can, Mister Barclay."
"Trying – " said Reg, through the interference. " – almost – "
At that moment, a half-dozen Borg from the attacking cube burst into the chamber.
Bashir and Naomi fired. There was no effect on the Borg shields.
Select fired, and one Borg fell. She fired again, and then the Borg directed all their fire at her.
Teleport.
They materialised on the Gallant bridge. Select slumped to the floor.
"Lieutenant Nog, if you please," said Seven.
"Already on our way," said the Feringi, punching controls.
"Cloak engaged and stable," said Reg.
"When the Borg ships began to fight each other, we disengaged the clamp, and we were able to get the readings we needed in the confusion," said Icheb. "None of the Borg ships can detect us, it seems."
Seven, Chokotay and Bashir knelt down next to Select. Bashir examined her wounds. Seven glanced at him; his eyes signalled: no.
"Human," said Select to Chokotay, "do you really think that it might have been possible for me to again be … what I once was? Do you think it could have been done?"
"Yes," said Chokotay. "I know it can be."
Select smiled. "I … I think I would have liked that," she said. Then she was gone.
"An interesting report," said Admiral Janeway, putting down the padd.
"I deeply regret the loss of the Encounter," said Chokotay. "Many good people gone."
"Yes, but the sacrifice was not for nothing," said Janeway. "We now have a cloaking device that is effective against the Borg, and we know that the Borg themselves are deeply divided."
"I believe," said Seven, "that this represents a radical change in the situation regarding the Borg. Perhaps sufficient to alter the thesis of an eventual Borg victory over the Federation."
"Possibly," said Janeway. "Let's hope so. It means that we have a good fighting chance, at least." She sighed. "And what of you two? Seven, you have demonstrated your ability to command a ship under difficult circumstances. The Gallant and its crew are yours, if you want."
"It is true," said Seven, "that being on the front line, in space, is more satisfying than working in the Emerging Technologies Division, important as that work is."
Janeway nodded. "I know exactly what you mean," she said. "And Commander Chokotay, you might be interested to know that there is a new ship coming off the production line, the first of the Warrior class. I believe it is going to be called the Maquis. It needs a captain. I think that you might be suitable for the job."
"I would like that very much," he said. "But, Admiral, I would first like to take several weeks of leave."
"As would I," said Seven.
"Of course," said the Admiral. "I assume you plan to take your leave together?"
"Yes," said Seven. "In fact, we plan to be together for the rest of our lives."
END