Shepherd in the Darkness
Chapter 1
Far from Voyager, near the eerie glow of a remote binary system, the Delta Flyer followed the residual signature of a Borg sphere and dropped out of transwarp space.
The Borg sphere's trail disappeared into a tightly packed asteroid field that lay directly ahead. Radiation from the nearby star system made it difficult for the Flyer to detect the ion traces left by the sphere. The sphere may have continued on through normal space, or it may have re-entered any one of the many transwarp conduits that clustered in this region of space. There was nothing to do but to get in as close as possible to the asteroid field to see if they could pick up the trail once more. Traveling at one-quarter impulse, the Flyer moved in to sniff out its prey.
A week had passed since Kathryn Janeway set out with Tuvok, the Doctor and Tom Paris to track down the Borg vessel that had carried Seven of Nine away from Voyager. So far they had endured countless hours of tedious scanning, abruptly interrupted at unexpected moments by adrenaline pumping excitement when they were forced to elude other Borg vessels.
Inside the Flyer's main cabin, Tom Paris occupied his familiar station at the helm. He rechecked their speed and heading and made a minor adjustment with one of the knobs that he had designed for the ship's twentieth century inspired console. It was going to be tricky for them to get close enough to pick up useful readings. Tom had to be extra careful, in this tight to the asteroid field.
Kathryn Janeway sat at one of the rear consoles, monitoring the ship's multi-adaptive shields. The Flyer's crew had survived several close calls so far. She had every confidence in them and in her pilot's ability to handle any challenge he was called upon to face, whether that was in transwarp or in normal space. However, it always paid to stay on full alert when dealing with the Borg,
The rear doors slid open. Tuvok entered the cabin, followed by a very annoyed Doctor.
"You could have stayed on your break a few minutes longer, gentlemen," the Captain noted. "We still have some time before we're in optimum range."
"I found twenty minutes to be a sufficient amount of time in which to consume a meal, Captain," Tuvok replied. "Especially since the Doctor chose to entertain me with one of his operatic arias." The reason for Tuvok's relatively speedy return and for the Doctor's irritation was now clear to both Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris.
The Doctor huffed. "Music aids the digestion. It is very restful, Mr. Tuvok."
"Twenty minutes provided me with sufficient 'restfulness', Doctor," Tuvok explained patiently. He turned his attention to his duties.
The Doctor retreated to his own station at the rear of the cabin. He was developing a new procedure that should help them to detect Seven's biosigns more effectively to assist in her recovery. He maintained his air of injury and resumed his work in silence.
As the Flyer neared the leading edge of the asteroid field, a smudge of telltale green signaled the emergence of another transwarp aperture. It was much too close for comfort.
"Captain," Tom called back to her. "There's a Borg cube preparing to exit a transwarp conduit hard off our starboard bow."
The cube emerged into normal space, scattering the smaller asteroids on the outer edge of the field, sending several of them careening into the Flyer's shields. Lights inside the cabin flickered before stabilizing once more. "Captain," Tuvok reported from his station. "The multi-adaptive shields are off line."
"Re-activate them."
From his position at the helm, Tom could tell that their situation was bad. "It's no use, Captain," he informed her. "The Borg cube has detected us. They're changing course to intercept. We have limited maneuverability this close to the asteroid field. Even if we could raise our shields immediately, they would still be able to figure out where we are."
"Mr. Paris is correct, Captain," Tuvok agreed. "They could extrapolate our position from our last known co-ordinates."
"Options!" The Captain cut through this flow of incoming data to direct their energies toward a possible course of action.
Three organic brains, and one holographic one, worked to formulate a feasible plan. Tom tightened his grip on the control levers as a plan took shape in his head. "Captain, I have an idea."
"What is it, Mr. Paris?"
"If I can get us in behind one of the larger asteroids up ahead, I think I'll have enough room to execute a complete turn in the few seconds the asteroid will protect us from the Borg sensors. If we can re-engage the multi-adaptive shields at that precise instant, the cube won't know where to look for us."
"The plan has merit," Tuvok noted. "May I suggest that we also fire a burst at the surface of the asteroid? The Borg may accept this as evidence that we have crashed and refrain from further investigation."
"Do it!"
Tom turned back around to plot a course that would take them safely into the field and also safely back out again. They had to move fast to make this work. But it wouldn't be much of a plan if they crashed for real.
"Mr. Tuvok, co-ordinate weapons fire with helm. I'll handle shields," the Captain instructed from her station.
Tuvok nodded his acknowledgment and directed his attention to ship's weapons.
"Tuvok," Tom called out, "I'm going to bring the Flyer in as if we're trying to land on the far side of one of the larger asteroids. After you fire, I'll bring the Flyer out of her turn and reverse our heading."
"I will fire on your signal."
"We'll only have a few seconds, Mr. Paris," the Captain reminded him. "Make it fast."
"Understood."
Tom took the Flyer deeper into the field, aiming her at a particularly large asteroid. "The Borg ship is closing fast on our tail, Captain. Ready on the shields."
"Acknowledged."
Only moments before, the asteroid up ahead of them had been a pebble in a sea of pebbles. Now it loomed like a mountain of barren rock. Large as it was, there would be barely enough room behind it to complete a turn. It would take all of Tom's skill and all of his concentration. His skill had never failed him. His concentration had only failed him once in his adult life. Unfortunately once had been one too many. Tom swore softly as they skimmed dangerously close to a Flyer sized rock off their port bow. He angled the ship to take advantage of a narrow passage and set the ship up for the loop that would double them back on their original course. "Course change," he announced, "in 3-2-1, now!"
"Firing."
"Shields engaged."
Tom rolled the ship and brought her nose up in what would have been a steep bank if performed within a planet's atmosphere. The twists and turns combined to bring the ship about in what should have been an impossible angle in outer space. It probably was impossible for most pilots. The inertial dampeners neutralized most of the effects for the crew. But the forward view of dark rock blurring against darker space was sufficiently stomach churning that no one criticized the Doctor for complaining that he was going to turn green, albeit a holographic green. Tom took the Flyer out of the asteroid field to streak undetected past the Borg cube. He maintained course until they reached the far side of the binary system that they had passed earlier. There, the Flyer took up a holding position.
"The Borg cube is not pursuing," Tuvok reported in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Well done, team," the Captain commended them. She stepped down to the helm to add, "Nice flying, Mr. Paris."
"Thanks, Captain," he replied, forcing himself to breathe normally again.
"Yes, Mr. Paris," the Doctor spoke up. "Nice flying. Although, you could have shown more consideration for my holo-nerves. I'm sure it wasn't necessary to make quite so dramatic a turn."
Tom rolled his eyes and the Captain patted his shoulder.
"Perhaps, next time, I should handle the helm, Captain," the Doctor suggested.
The Captain wasn't even remotely tempted to take the Doctor up on his offer. He might be programmed with piloting skills and have the experiences of several pilots entered into his data bank. He didn't have Tom's instincts for flight or his expertise in making split second decisions to find the best course from among the many options available. It was not only a matter of picking the best course for the immediate split second, but also of setting the ship up in the best possible way for the split second after that, and for the one after that as well. Tom once explained it to her as playing a game of pool on a gyrating, three-dimensional table. Only in this game, the ship was the cue ball and the object of the game was to avoid hitting any of the other balls.
"Thank you, Doctor," she said dryly. "I think we'll stick with Mr. Paris. I wouldn't want to compromise your diagnostic skills," she added, exchanging an understanding look with Tom.
"Of course not, Captain," the Doctor agreed.
A second Borg cube exited the conduit near the asteroid field. It gave no indication that it noticed the Delta Flyer and continued off in another direction.
"Mr. Paris, maintain position. We can use the cover from the radiation in the binary system to hide for now. Let's gather as much data as we can about the conduits near this system."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Mr. Tuvok, we may not be able to get precise readings through this radiation, but let's see what we can pick up from the ion trails left by all this Borg traffic."
"Aye, Captain."
Time to return to scanning for clues. Somewhere in this haystack of space, there had to be a needle for them to find.