The senior staff of the Laforge gathered in the observation lounge. Captain Shelby was about to speak, if only to fill the anticipatory silence with some sort of command presence, when Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Ensign Jacqueline Picard entered the room and swiftly took their seats at the table.
"Captain Shelby," Captain Picard diplomatically addressed the ship's territorial captain, "I believe I know how to stop the Borg."
If she needed to grant him permission to speak, Shelby was more than willing to do so. "Go ahead, Captain."
"Even before you brought me here," Captain Picard began, "Commander Data could navigate the pathways to access the Borg central computer. I of course had experience communicating with the Borg through a neural link. After reviewing the extensive information collected by all of you—and I must commend your staff, Captain Shelby—the two obstacles to a successful sabotage of the Borg computer were the distance between the Borg ships in the armada and . . . well, the simple fact that the Borg in all likelihood would be prepared for such a tactic after Data and I executed it in sector 001 some twenty years ago.
"Both of these problems could be solved, however, if the Borg did not receive the sabotage command as an external message from a remote location, but as an internal message originating in one of their own ships. If our message came from the Borg central computer, then, aboard the Laforge, I would essentially act as an amplifier, to strengthen the signal to ships farthest from the origin of the original transmission."
"Intriguing. How do you propose we mask the origin of our transmission, Captain?" Data asked.
"We won't really have to, Data. Our role will be to create the proper conditions then listen for the message that we want to be transmitted from the Borg central computer. I will be connected to the lead ship to receive the message, disconnected before the Borg realize we've been eavesdropping, and re-connected to the more distant ships." Captain Picard paused. "At the same time that I am sending a message from the Laforge as Locutus of Borg, the exact message will be sent out—"
"—by Admiral Picard," Ensign Picard finished. "The Admiral is aboard a Borg ship. He's been kidnapped and assimilated again." Jacqueline Picard could not explain how she suddenly realized this, but she was sure that her reaching this conclusion had more to do with following the analytical mind of Captain Picard than any telepathic link with Wesley Crusher.
"Yes, I believe he has been," Captain Picard nodded, allowing a small, proud smile at Jacqueline.
"Wait," Shelby interjected. "How do you know this? What proof do you have?" The other officers around the table looked as skeptical as their captain, as if they found the time traveler in their midst crazy.
Captain Picard re-iterated everything that Jacqueline had told him about Wesley's abilities. "The rest of the mystery is simply logical deduction. Admiral Picard's whereabouts are unknown, but Wesley has not told Jacqueline that he is dead. We have the means to communicate a destructive message, but not the means to deliver it throughout the Borg armada nor the technology, alone, to dupe the Borg. So we must ask ourselves, why would Wesley choose me, bring me here to act now?"
The logic of the theory appealed to the Vulcan T'Pran. "Fascinating," she said, "and quite logical."
Sub-commander Nera, however, had had enough of human arrogance. "It is one logical conclusion," she fumed, "but Captain Picard's theory is entirely unsupported by any evidence and relies upon a number of assumptions that we cannot test." Shelby glanced at Nera then turned to Captain Picard with an ambivalent look to indicate that Nera had just spoken her sentiments.
Captain Picard patiently responded. "There's more. The rest of the puzzle pieces fit so nicely. The first officer of the Laforge is Data, the only being in the universe who already has the knowledge to send these transmissions. Counselor Sorel's telepathic skills will allow him to assist Data in monitoring my condition during the link to the Borg. Captain Shelby is here, bringing her knowledge of the Borg, her stellar reputation as a Starfleet captain and her personal contacts in Starfleet—all of which, I assure you, we are going to need. Ensign Picard will provide the link to Wesley Crusher, whose hand in all this is not yet played out. Perhaps most oddly of all, only you, Sub-commander, of all the Romulan liaisons to the Federation, have the authority to summon a significant number of cloaked warbirds, which we will need to divert the Borg."
This revelation silenced Nera. Captain Picard obviously had researched Nera's career and position in the Romulan Empire most thoroughly. Nera did not broadcast her ties to the Tal Shiar intelligence organization and she was annoyed that this human—in her mind, more of a phantom—from another universe had virtually exposed her.
Shelby could not stand it any longer. She could not remain silent in her observation lounge on her ship while another officer controlled the direction of the mission. "Captain, what the hell are you talking about?"
Jean-Luc Picard smiled at her, remembering the directness and impatience of the young Shelby who had once served aboard his Enterprise.
"The Borg have not yet encountered the Romulans. If several warbirds suddenly de-cloaked near the armada, the Borg likely would pursue them in an attempt to assimilate a new race, quite different from the peoples of the Federation worlds recently conquered. In fact, Locutus will even recommend this course of action so that the Borg can assimilate the cloaking technology. We can predict how the Borg would act once they are within range of a Romulan vessel because we've seen how they approach a new race before."
"They'll send over a minimal away team to assess the ship's technology," Shelby answered.
"Yes," Picard said, "and that will provide us with the window we need to retrieve the Admiral. The Romulans will have to lead the Borg to sector 294." He pushed buttons on the table and the viewscreen behind Shelby showed a rather unremarkable star system, at the center of which was a dying star. Captain Picard then magnified the view and modified the display to include astrophysical data on the star.
T'pran understood the readings instantly. "The mass and the area of the star suggest that the star may be compressible enough to eventually become a black hole."
Data concurred. "In addition, the gravitational readings of the core are consistent with the precursor readings of a star that collapses into a black hole."
"Thank you, Mr. Data," Captain Picard said. "I also believe it is the beginning of a black hole, which should be perfectly formed in roughly the next two to four thousand centuries. Locutus will recognize this sector when the Romulan ships lead the armada there and he will know that it poses no immediate threat to the Borg ships."
Shelby could not be left out. "The Romulan ships will stop in sector 294 and let the Borg send over an away team. At the same time, we send a team to the Borg ship to find Admiral Picard and bring him back. Respectfully, Captain, the Romulans have never boarded a Borg vessel."
"I know," Picard said, "and they're not going to board one this time either. According to our most recent information, the Titan is located nearby in sector 288."
"And the Titan's captain is Will Riker. He knows a thing or two about the Borg," Shelby said with admiration for Captain Picard's plan. "Riker wouldn't hesitate to help us. He could hide in the Orion nebula and come out to send a rescue team for the Admiral." Her mind racing, Shelby stopped speaking so that she could follow the plan to its end. She frowned when she reached a snag. "Captain, if we issue only one command, to get the Borg to follow the Romulans to sector 294, I don't understand how we are going to neutralize the Borg."
Jean-Luc Picard looked across the table to Jacqueline Picard. Looking into her father's eyes, she understood and answered, "The Borg are going to fall into the black hole. Wesley is going to alter the space-time continuum so that the black hole will be there at the right moment." Brilliant, she thought. She was witnessing the most brilliant meeting of minds—Wesley's evolutionary one and her father's younger, strategic one—and she knew she would become stronger from this experience. Maybe every officer involved in this wild rescue would, she thought. Maybe that was the thrill that star travel offered, the challenge that had kept her parents living aboard starships for so many years.
Although Nera was impressed by the unorthodox strategy, her mind zeroed in on her own parsec of concern. "What about the Romulan ships? Wouldn't they too fall into the black hole? What about your own ship, the Titan?"
Picard nodded gravely. "That is a concern, but one we can address. We will need to adroitly position the ships so that they will remain beyond the distortion in the space-time continuum. If they slipped into the distortion, then they would likely be pulled by the gravitational field of the black hole." His face was somber. He did not like the odds as he understood them.
"Captain," T'pran said, "based on the average gravitational force of a black hole and the current gravitational force and density of the star, we may be able to calculate safe distances from the black hole. We would need to know the size of the black hole, however, to estimate the force of its gravitational field."
"We could work backwards," Data suggested. "We could attempt to configure safe locations for the Romulan and Federation ships and the exact force of the gravitational field that would make those positions safe, then calculate the size of the black hole that would produce that degree of force."
"Then we tell Wesley what we need," Jacqueline Picard confidently continued, "and he selects the right moment in time." Jean-Luc Picard gazed at his daughter with unconcealed pride.
"That is correct." Silence met Data's pronouncement as each officer considered his or her role in the plan and tried to comprehend the scope of what they would soon be attempting. \
Shelby was exhilarated. Giving her staff a few moments to object and hearing no objections, she put the plan into action.
"Make it so," Shelby said.
Beverly Picard rolled over and curled up in a fetal position but still felt cold and extremely uncomfortable on the hard plank that was supposed to be her bed. It made no sense to her why Klingons, humanoids like the rest of them, had to sacrifice such minor and basic necessities as bedding to maintain what she considered an anachronistic warrior image. But then, she reflected, given recent events, maybe that image was no longer outmoded.
Her physical discomfort was a welcome distraction from her much greater emotional pain. If she could keep feeling the hard wood or, even better, complain to someone about the conditions of her room, she would not have to think about her husband. Beverly had always preferred nurturing an unrelated anger to help her hide from inner pain. Maybe, she thought, it will work again.
She knew it would not. The loss of her husband in the Borg attack on Earth was far too painful to bear. She wished she could lose her mind or shut down—anything to stop thinking about the reality that she would never see Jean-Luc again.
Beverly tried to distract herself with the joy of memories. Trying to teach him to dance and finally giving up on experimentation or progress when it became clear that all he wanted to do was hold her close. Accompanying him on archaeological digs and enjoying his childlike exploration and wonderment more than anything she had ever managed to dig up. Listening to him read to her, in his soothing, deep voice that almost carried her away, as they lay together before the fireplace in their house on Caldos. Spying on him as he gently tended the vines in Labarre. Feeling his soft, strong hands touching her face, stroking her hair, caressing her body.
No, it would not do to think of that. She remembered his poetic words and the love in his hazel eyes as he timidly proposed to her. The relief they both felt when he was freed from the Borg and he looked at her with his own mind, his eyes reflecting the terror of the violation and his joy at returning to her. The mind-sharing on Kess-Prytt that she thought might lead to a divorce, with the confusing bombardment of contradictory thoughts and memories from their subconscious minds.
Sitting on the cold, hard rock of a bed in the Klingon ship, Beverly allowed herself to conjure up her husband's face the first time he held their newborn daughter in his arms. Lying next to him in the bed, Beverly had looked up to see him more amazed, frightened and awed than she ever had. Despite all his adventures as a starship captain, all the astral wonders he had seen in space and all the races of people he had met, Jean-Luc Picard felt the most moved by the sight of his newborn child. In the seconds that he had held his daughter for the first time and his wife gazed at him with more love than he had imagined the universe could hold, Jean-Luc had silently begun to cry.
Oh my God, Beverly thought.
Jacqueline.
She did not know if Jacqueline were alive or dead. Worse, she had barely devoted a thought to either of her children since losing her husband. She was almost certain that Wesley was out of danger, wherever he was. She had assumed that the Laforge was far away from the Borg's advance, but she did not know for sure, in a universe where nothing was sure any more. Arms wrapped around her knees, Beverly buried her face and cried again.
Ensign Jacqueline Picard reflected that, in a way, this was the easiest assignment she had ever gotten in Starfleet. All she had to do was go to sleep. She was tired after a day that had begun at 0400 hours and included attending to her duties at the helm of the Laforge, following her brother's telepathic directions to bring the ship to its fateful position, meeting a younger version of her father, comforting the heartbroken man who was not her father, and participating in the formulation of a strategy to defeat the most dangerous enemy her universe had ever known. Plus, Jacqueline had to do all this while trying to impress Captain Shelby. Now, she had to keep working in her sleep.
Jacqueline looked at the holograms of her family one last time, trying to see them through Captain Picard's eyes, to understand the depth of his despair. Her family was everything to her and she could not imagine life without them. Although she had been very sad when Wesley left the Enterprise, she did not have to wait too long before he contacted her. "Don't be sad, Squirt," Wesley had reassured her, using the affectionate nickname he had given her. "I'll always be close to you. Just think about me and I'll be there."
Likewise, she could not bear to think of her parents being gone. In the meeting, when she realized that her father must be aboard a Borg ship, her first thought was a selfish happiness that he was alive, but she knew the experience would be horrible for him. She still remembered the nightmares he used to have and how he would wake screaming until Mamán could finally calm him down.
She summoned all of her discipline and pushed painful thoughts away with a Betazoid meditation that she had learned from Deanna Troi. Climbing into bed, she drank some warm milk and nutmeg, then laid her head on her pillow. Sleep came quickly.
Wesley approached her as he always did in a misty forest that reminded her of the woods near LaBarre, or the dense outlying forests of Caldos. He was a young man, not much older than when she last saw him, wearing similar clothing. He smiled warmly at her. He was her big brother. "I'm here," she heard, or felt him send. Despite the care he had taken to show a physical image to her, his lips never moved when he communicated with her telepathically.
Although the setting was comfortable and familiar, Jacqueline was nervous. She hurriedly told him about all of Captain Picard's conjectures, the plans the Laforge had made for the Roluman warbirds and the Titan, and the exact measurements of the black hole they would need to defeat the Borg. He listened patiently, still smiling a bit.
"All right, I have it," Wesley sent when she was finished. "I understand and I'll make it happen. You've done a great job, Jacqueline. You're going to save the rest of the Federation, you know."
Jacqueline was still anxious. "Papá?" she asked timidly. "He is aboard the Borg ship?"
"Yes. The Captain and you were right. Will Riker will rescue him."
"Is he . . . all right?"
Wesley paused, then answered straightforwardly. "He's alive, but he won't be all right for some time."
Jacqueline thought she breathed a sigh of relief. One last thing troubled her, though, and she was afraid to ask. Fortunately, she did not have to. Wesley read her mind, moved closer to her and took her hands.
"Mom is alive. She's on a crippled Klingon ship that doesn't have any communications right now. She was evacuating Starfleet Medical and waiting for Papá to come back. His ship was delayed for reasons beyond his control and the Borg advanced faster than anyone expected."
Jacqueline was glad for the comfort of Wesley's hands holding hers. On their own, she was sure, they would be shaking like a flimsy Kondrovian tree in a windstorm.
"One of Papá's former officers, Worf, went to Earth in his ship to rescue Mom and Papá. He found Mom evacuating Starfleet Medical and told her they had to leave right away."
"But," Jacqueline could not comprehend, "Mamán left Earth without waiting for Papá?"
Wesley shook his head. "She refused to leave without him. Worf was arguing with her and the evacuating crowd was panicking. In the confusion, Worf grabbed Mom and beamed her aboard his ship. When Papá arrived two hours later, she was gone and the Borg were there."
"Then Mamán doesn't know that Papá is alive? She must be devastated."
Wesley nodded. "At first, she was." He smiled again. "I let her know that Papá and you were safe."
Jacqueline was immeasurably glad of that, but also curious. "Did you talk to her, like you do to me?"
"Not exactly," Wesley sent. "I just sent her . . . a feeling. To take away her pain."
Her message conveyed and her worst fears allayed, Jacqueline now focused on the process rather than the content of her most important telepathic meeting with Wesley. Suddenly, she gasped with wonder as she realized that something had changed significantly. "Wesley, I'm talking to you, I'm communicating with you. I've never been able to tell you things like this before or ask you questions."
"I know."
"What's happening? Am I going to become like you?"
Wesley smiled the warm, brotherly grin she remembered from her childhood. "Well, Squirt, I like to think that I'm special in my own way, but, yes, you are . . . evolving. You're pretty special, too."