One of the good things about engineers was that they could be counted on to cut to the point. Unfortunately, their conclusion was not what Kathryn wanted to hear.
"Based on their current power output, Deep Space Five can't generate enough heat to sterilise the infected areas. Even considering that Admiral Jellico and Doctor Crusher were forward-thinking enough to assemble the station's population in the main promenade here, on the fourth ring of the centre section." Riker's chief engineer pointed at the diagram and tapped it.
"It's a big area. We don't have access to their environmental controls, and even if we used full quarantine suits, we'd be violating the level four restrictions."
"So if we want heat, we have to generate it externally." Kathryn looked from the engineer to Tuvok and Seven. She couldn't put into words how happy she was to have them here. She wanted B'Elanna as well, but she wasn't going to get that lucky.
"And a lot of it. We're talking about several thousand cubic metres of air. Deep Space Five took their phaser offline and dumped power into their shields during the ion storm, and the plague spread so rapidly after the storm that they didn't have time to reroute the power back. The shield grid doesn't produce heat, nor can we redirect it towards the station without breaking down structural integrity to the point where the station would be like an eggshell." The Titan's chief engineer shook his whiskered head. "This is not an easy problem, Admiral."
Kathryn sighed and nodded. "I know, and the stakes are pretty damn high. We're going to figure it out. We have too."
Seven and Tuvok shared a glance, and he nodded towards what she'd been quietly working on for the last half-hour.
"Admiral, I believe we can use the same method Voyager employed in seven years ago on stardate 48846.5. A symmetrical warp field could be directed at the station and hit with a plasma burst with enough energy to heat the station." Seven handed her the PADD.
"The only problem with repeating the method we used to save the bio-neural gel packs from infection is that Voyager had the capacity to generate a warp field the size of the ship. Deep Space Five does not."
Kathryn read over the PADD quickly, taking in Seven's calculations. That couldn't be right. The station wasn't that big, was it?
"We would need twenty-eight Luna-class starships? Seven-"
Tuvok backed Seven up: that was an excellent sign that Seven's plan was right. "Her calculations are correct, Admiral. Twenty-eight is the minimum that would cover the inhabited areas of the station, and Seven's plan is entirely dependent on all the vessels involved being able to maintain a symmetric warp field of identical frequency. It will not be easy to maintain for the required period of time. Each vessel willl need to precisely calibrate their warp field, and all will be defenceless."
She was missing something. Kathryn hadn't slept much in the last decade and her brain was running like a broken shuttle.
Will rescued her. "We're perilously close to the neutral zone. The Romulan Empire's been in a state of unrest since Shinzon'z coup last year. If a few Romulan commanders wanted to strike a blow against us-"
"We'd be handing them thirty ships with their shields down." Kathryn resisted the impulse to slam her head against the table in frustration. "What's the likelihood of any Romulan's looking for a fight?"
Tuvok and Seven were unwilling to give her a probability, which meant it was higher than Kathryn liked.
Will was diplomatic. "Hard to tell with Romulans. We made a contact or two the last time the Enterprise went to Romulus, I could try to reach someone friendly and see where the fighting is this week. The Romulans might get back to use faster than Starfleet Intelligence."
Starfleet Intelligence was her headache to deal with, so was the rest of the admiralty. Kathryn sat back in her chair, more hopeful than she had been in the last few days of hell. "Captain Riker, please see if the Romulans are feeling magnanimous. Commander Tuvok, Seven and Commander Ra-Havreii, modify the Titan and the Zhangzihe. If we're going to need thirty ships, lets start with the two we have. Let's hope Starfleet has that many nearby."
Seven met her gaze with difficulty. "I estimate that the population of Deep Space Five will decrease by several thousand if we are not able to complete our task in the next sixteen hours. If the disease continues to follow its established pattern, Deep Space Five will be devoid of life within the next twenty-eight hours."
"Time is of the essence. Everyone on the station is counting on us. Dismissed."
As the meeting broke up, Kathryn stayed in the Titan's observation lounge. Tuvok hovered behind her, calming her with his presence. He'd seen the pain in her face and he knew her well enough to know how hard she was working to hide it.
"It is possible that Doctor Crusher will survive. You should not give up hope."
His hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Kathryn shivered. She still couldn't afford the emotions she was repressing and that level of control sapped her strength.
"That sounds downright optimistic for a Vulcan."
Tuvok inclined his head. "Optimism is not always illogical. There is still a reasonable chance to believe Doctor Crusher and everyone on the station is still alive. It is a much better outcome if everyone remains so."
Turning from the view of the station, Kathryn looked into Tuvok's familiar brown eyes. "She sent me a goodbye letter."
"She may not have wanted you to lose someone else you loved without the chance to say goodbye. Doctor Crusher lost her husband without being able to say goodbye. It may have held emotional significance that she tell you how she feels."
Slamming her hands down on the table stung, but Kathryn cherished the sensation. "I'm not letting her go."
"Nor should you."
"I-" Kathryn swallowed and lifted her partially numb hand to wipe her eyes. "I love her."
"And this makes you unhappy."
"It makes me terrified." Putting her hand on her hip, Kathryn wilted. "I don't know what I'll do. I think about returning to our empty apartment, and the cat and-"
Tuvok was steady and calm, everything she wasn't. "You intend to marry her."
"Marry her, have children with her. Tuvok, I let her convince me to get a cat."
"You do not appreciate feline company."
Kathryn paced in the tiny space she had, then stopped finally, learning on the chair. "I do now. I miss the cat. I miss her."
"You believe she will return?"
"I have to. I haven't clung to anything as desperately since we made it home."
His hand returned to her shoulder, warm and solid. "You were successful when you brought us home. I believe you will be equally successful now. Hope is a vital component to human success and you need not let it go."
Kathryn sighed, her breath shuddering out of her chest. "I don't think I can let go."
"Then do not."
She wavered, holding herself firmly away before she gave in and hugged him. Tuvok held himself firm, like a Vulcan should, but his hands went around her back and held her. "You have done well to get this far. Doctor Crusher will be proud of your accomplishments."
"She told me not to come."
"And must have known you would."
Kathryn paused, then lifted herself from his chest. When a Vulcan let you hug him, you knew you were in trouble. "Thirty ships."
"Depending on their size and warp capabilities, yes, thirty is an appropriate estimate." His arms returned to his sides and Tuvok waited for her to move.
"Let's go find them."
He waited for her to move towards the door. "After you, Admiral."
Following her former security chief onto Will Riker's bridge, Kathryn let the warmth of the hug stay with her. They could do this. They had a plan.
"We're picking up a transmission, Captain."
Jean-Luc Picard looked up from the arm display on his chair. Erilon Perseus had a fascinating shift towards the blue-green end of the spectrum, and he wanted to run a tertiary scan, just to see what it would look like under the right sensor conditions.
"From whom, Lieutenant?"
The rather young lieutenant at tactical paused, as if she had been trapped in a moment of confusion, which was never good on the bridge of the Enterprise. She was new enough that he didn't know her first name, so Jean-Luc allowed her a moment to collect herself.
"It's been transmitted in the clear, Captain."
Only distress calls, incredibly unimportant personal communication, and interstellar ion conditions were transmitted in the clear. If it wasn't a distress call, that she would have reported immediately, new or not, her momentary pause was justified.
"Source of the transmission?"
"Sector six-two-four, Sir. It appears to be the Titan."
Captain Riker transmitting in the clear was something interesting. Erilon Perseus forgotten, Jean-Luc gave the viewscreen his full attention. Instead of Will's familiar beard and bright eyes, Admiral Janeway appeared on the screen. The last time he'd seen her on Earth she'd been sitting across the table in a tiny cafe in Burgundy, next to Beverly, teasing him that the knowledge of wine was not a prerequisite for captaincy, and she'd managed many years knowing little about it. She'd been happy then, full of life and hope, and he remembered the feeling of warmth he'd had, knowing Beverly was so happy with this woman.
Now she was exhausted, her hair still up in a neat twist that did not match the rest of her appearance. Her uniform had the rumpled look only a fellow commander would recognise as a day's worth of wear without respite. The dark circles under her eyes were etched deep and she was pale, like a sheet of old parchment.
"This is an emergency transmission. I am Admiral Janeway of the United Federation of Planets. Deep Space Five has been compromised by a previously extinct deadly viral infection, known as 'tevalalam ak' in pre-Surakian Vulcan and 'eshtojinn uhrak' in ancient Bajoran. Thousands of lives are at risk.
"I request all starships capable of generation a warp field of twenty million cubic metres or more, not currently on emergency missions, to divert to Deep Space Five immediately for relief efforts. A massive coordinated warp field will be used to eradicate the virus at mark thirty-eight, galactic standard time.
"The necessary symmetric warp field configuration follows. A description of the virus also follows. This virus is a level four quarantine risk. Do not approach the station if you cannot be of assistance. If the relief effort is not successful, Deep Space Five will be destroyed with all hands."
Kathryn's voice was choked, as devoid of emotion as a Borg transmission. Her eyes were dead as well.
Beverly was on board. He'd brought her there himself, and if Kathryn had been this gutted by her announcement, Beverly was facing her death, if not-
Jean-Luc refused to believe her dead. Beverly was his oldest friend, losing her to a virus was unacceptable.
"Lieutenant Ramndar, contact Starfleet command on a secured channel, confirm that Starfleet Medical has declared Deep Space Five Case Zaire."
"Aye, Captain."
Worf entered the bridge from the turbolift, jaw set and eyes burning with purpose. He'd heard the message. "At maximum warp, we will reach sector six-two-four eleven minutes after mark thirty-nine on the galactic clock."
Forty-nine minutes too late.
"Engineering."
"La Forge here, Sir."
"We need to reach Deep Space Five in less than sixteen hours."
Jean-Luc had entrusted his ship to Geordi La Forge for more than a decade. If there was a way to reach the station, Geordi would know it. The pause dragged out, and Jean-Luc began to fear that even Geordi could not bring the Enterprise there in time to do anything more than mourn the loss of thousands.
"We're only designed to travel and warp nine-point-nine-seven-five for an hour, two tops. I might be able to push it, but we'd be risking burning out the lining of the reaction chamber and torching half the nacelle coils."
"Could we still generate a warp field when we arrived?"
Geordi's tone was less than optimistic. "As long as you didn't want to go anywhere, we could generate a field. If we damage the reaction chamber, Deep Space Five will need to tow us in."
Worf tapped his console. "Commander, we have received schematics for a symmetrical warp field. We need to reach Deep Space Five and still be able to generate this field in less than sixteen hours."
Another pause, and Jean-Luc forced his mind not to imagine a universe where Wesley Crusher was an orphan. Did he even know of his mother's danger?
Lieutenant Ramndar looked up from her console. "Starfleet Command confirms that Deep Space Five has been declared Case Zaire, Captain." She was too junior of an officer to know what she was reporting, but she read Jean-Luc's expression. He saw fear in her eyes.
Geordi's response came after a long series of calculations. "We'll need to divert power from all nonessential systems. If I alter the warp field to put less stress on the nacelles, there's a chance we'll arrive on time. Captain, there's also a chance that the nacelles were burn out halfway there. We'd been stranded."
"Stranded but alive, Commander. Make your modifications. Prepare for maximum warp."
"Aye, Captain."
Worf took the chair at Jean-Luc's side, filling the bridge with Klingon composure. "Case Zaire has not been declared in seventy-one years."
Jean-Luc sat bayonet straight in his chair. "Doctor Crusher obviously felt it was appropriate."
"Are you familiar with the virus Admiral Janeway mentioned, Captain?"
He'd never come across it. Ancient viruses were not something Jean-Luc had ever researched, but he spoke Vulcan and he'd recognised the gravity with which Admiral Janeway had named the virus.
"I am not, Mister Worf. The translation is unpleasant." The Vulcans were not a species to exaggerate. Most of their medical data was exact and passionless. This virus, the tevalalam ak, had been named with fear. "Whatever is lose on Deep Space Five, the Vulcans called the 'white-eyed death'."
Worf's eyebrows raised. "Not a very Vulcan name."
"Lieutenant Ramndar, raise Professor Uhnok at the Vulcan Historical Archive. Use my name and tell him I need to know everything in the database about tevalalam ak."
"Aye, Captain."
Worf read over the plan for a symmetric warp field on his console, his expression growing darker. "Captain, I must inform you that Admiral Janeway's plan will require a cumulative symmetric warp field of six hundred million cubic metres. There may not be sufficient vessels within range. Deep Space Five is on the outer fringe of Federation space. We are only detecting eighteen vessels of significant size in sensor range between us and Deep Space Five."
Jean-Luc's heart sank, growing cold as it settled. "We shall hope there are more out of sensor range."
No variation in Jean-Luc's tone would affect a Klingon, and Worf stood. "Permission to search for more vessels with less conventional methods, Captain."
"Mister Worf, I don't care if you conjure the ghost fleet of JthellnRuk if they can generate a warp field."
"Aye, Sir." Worf's large form left the bridge.
"Bridge, this is engineering. We're ready down here, Captain." Geordi hesitated, then spoke to someone next to him before returning. "It's not going to be a smooth ride."
"Understood. Tactical, set condition yellow." Jean-Luc tapped his chair controls and opened a channel to all decks. The bosun's whistle filled the air, then he addressed his crew. "All hands, this is the captain. We are about to push the limits of our vessel. Be alert to structural failures, resonance damage and the emergency diversion of power. Let us see that this Enterprise continues to live up the standard of excellence set by her predecessors. Picard out."
He was walking through hell. There was no other way to describe it. Even Dante would have been at a loss for words. Voyager's EMH stood on the promenade of Deep Space Five, surrounded by the dying. He'd seen epidemics before, and he'd been involved in several viral outbreaks, but this was something that transcended imagination. As far as his synthetic visual cortex could see, the Doctor stared at the dying.
Cots had been packed so tightly together that no one could have walked between them. The heads of each row pointed in towards a narrow walkway with a taunt guideline in the middle, so the blind healers could find their way. The feet of one set of beds touched the feet of another set so that where he stood, two rows of the dying were on either side of him. His tricorder beeped with several dozen warnings as it collected life signs.
All were fading. Some, ten percent, maybe more, were already dead. None of the infected moved, the virus had effectively paralysed all of them. He leaned down to look at the eyes of what had been a rather handsome Andorian civilian. His eyes were white and stared up at the ceiling without seeing. His internal organs were failing in groups, with the nephritic systems already gone. Even if Admiral Janeway's plan was successful, the medical needs of these people would be immense.
The Doctor walked ten metres and scanned another patient. She was slightly better off, but she'd need synthetic kidney support for weeks, possibly longer. Her eyesight was also gone, and for some reason, she held the hands of the patients on either side of her. So did the women on her left. In fact, as he walked, the Doctor noticed many of the patients touching, holding hands, or resting their hands on each other in some fashion.
Facing death, all were family.
He stood again, walking through the steadily worsening cases as he entered the infirmary. The Doctor found one nurse, then another, and then two doctors who'd collapsed on their rounds. Turning one into a more comfortable position, he tapped his commbadge.
"Titan, this is the Doctor. The station's population has been localised in the central ring of the promenade. It looks like everyone is here, lining up like sardines."
Dying sardines.
He took a deep breath, fighting his emotional subroutines. "Many of the infected's condition is too far advanced to be helped by the synthetic fever. I predict several hundred will die in the attempt, with additional casualties of five or six hundred in the days following. This virus is brutally efficient, even systematic in the way it destroys the organs of infected."
"Can you do anything for them, Doctor?"
Admiral Janeway's voice was nearly as exhausted as he'd heard it. The Doctor almost didn't dare to look for Doctor Crusher. He admired her professional, and after meeting her personally, he had decided she was one of the more interesting humans he'd met, as well as beautiful. Admiral Janeway was quite lucky.
If Doctor Crusher died here, he dreaded being the one to inform her. Deep Space Five was already a tragedy. Losing the entire crew would make it the Federation's worst loss since the last Borg assault.
"My fellow EMHs and I will begin administering respiratory and nephritic stimulants to those strong enough to survive the dose as soon as I've marked the locations to deploy the hologenerators."
"Do your best, Doctor."
"I always do, Admiral."
Climbing an emergency ladder up to the second level, the Doctor set the first transporter tag in the centre of a catwalk above the main level. A hologenerator would fit there, wirelessly feeding on the station's functioning power grid. He'd need a second one on the other side of the ring and he made his way purposefully through the rows of the dying.
Setting the other transporter tag inside a storage closet, one of the few places there was enough space for the generator, the EMH tapped his comm again.
"You may beam over the generators, Zhangzihe."
"Acknowledged, Doctor."
That voice was an engineer, not Admiral Janeway. Perhaps Seven had finally gotten through to her and dragged her off to bed, or sedated her. At the rate she was pushing herself, she'd be right next to Doctor Crusher in the infirmary, being treated for exhaustion.
Transporters hummed and the hologenerator appeared in front of him. After a moment, the Zhangzihe activated both of them and six EMH Mark IIIs shimmered into existence.
"Doctor, how may we be of assistance?"
"This station has been hit with an viral epidemic. We need to stabilise as many patients as possible for the temperature increase necessary to eliminate the virus. Medical supplies are in the infirmary."
They were also scattered around the deck where the stricken medical staff had left them but the Doctor did not need to tell them that.
The identical EMH Mark IIIs nodded, like a set of sextuplets in their uniforms. "Yes, Doctor."
They scattered evenly, distributing supplies and beginning to stabilise who they could. The Doctor watched them set up a treatment pattern according to the triage protocols he shared before he headed into the infirmary. The worst of the infected were in there along with Doctor Crusher, were she still alive.
Tapping his commbadge, the Doctor addressed Deep Space Five's computer. "Are there any crew members not on level four?"
"Negative."
That was good. Everyone was here.
"Any crew members not in the infirmary or the main promenade?"
"Doctor Crusher is in medical laboratory three. Doctor V'Konna is in medical laboratory one. Doctor Mitchell is in medical laboratory one. Nurse Haskill is in the medical storage locker. Nurse sh'Durens is in medical storage locker…" The computer's list continued. Many of the medical personnel had been going about their duties, trying to deal with the Herculean task of keeping the crew alive until some of them. He would assemble them, taking care of his brothers and sisters in blue before he returned to the other EMHs.
Stilling the butterflies in his holographic stomach, the Doctor entered med lab three. Tissue cultures arrayed along the work area were more random then he expected, but Doctor Crusher had been blind while she did her research. Hyposprays lay scattered across the desk and the floor. He picked up a few and scanned them.
Stimulants, nephritic support agents, synthetic liver enzymes, blood thinners, synaptic stabilisers: Doctor Crusher had gone far over the limits of medical safety trying to fight back her symptoms long enough to stay conscious and work on the virus. Considering she'd been the one to find the answer that the whole station's survival was depending on, the Doctor found himself agreeing with her decision. He'd risk his program for his crew.
He found her body when he circled the work station in the centre of the lab. Her hair fanned out around her head, covering her cheek. Her arms were together, near her chest, and her lab coat clung to her like a shroud.
The Doctor opened his tricorder, reaching for her neck. Her thready pulse was echoed by the tricorder. She was still alive, but hanging on by sheer stubbornness. There was dried bloody fluid on her lips, and Doctor Crusher's lung function was severely hampered. She already suffered from pneumonia, kidney and liver failure, partial renal collapse and electrolyte imbalance. Her skin was pale and cool to the touch. The top layers of epidermis on her neck tore beneath his fingers, made too fragile by the deteriorating condition of Beverly's blood. What little blood that appeared was already dark, not needing to brown in the atmosphere.
He tapped his commbadge, careful to keep his tone neutral. Just knowing Beverly was alive would make the admiral hopeful. Janeway had the responsibility of every life on that station, her not giving up was essential.
"Titan, this is the Doctor. Tell Admiral Janeway Doctor Crusher is alive and in better condition than I anticipated."
"She'll be glad to hear that, Doctor." Even Captain Riker seemed cheered by the news.
The last wasn't a lie. According to her own notes, Doctor Crusher had been one of the first exposed, and she'd been pushing her body far past the limits of ordinary human endurance. She was lucky to be alive, and extraordinary blessed to be still breathing on her own.
Lifting her into his arms, the Doctor noted the way her flesh was swollen and held the marks fro his fingers long after he'd moved them. One of the other EMHs transported away one of the dead and made space for Doctor Crusher on one of the biobeds. With a little luck, she'd live long enough to survive the cure.
"Galactic mark thirty-seven-point-five, Admiral, Captain."
Kathryn lifted her head from her hands. Will's first officer had given up her seat on the bridge to monitor the symmetric warp field from engineering so Kathryn sat in the semicircle with Will and Deanna.
Twenty-three ships.
They were seven short of Tuvok's optimistic estimate, and she could tell from the terse look on Seven's face that the projected warp field was less than satisfactory. She didn't want to ask. She was tired in a way she'd been a handful of times in her life: in the hands of the Cardassians, dragging Voyager through one more battle with the Borg and dodging ion storms on the Bonestell.
How would she choose which part of the station to save? What right did she have to say this half would live while the other half died?
Would Beverly be on the right side?
Tuvok's report was for both of them, but he kept his eyes on his captain. "At present strength, the symmetric warp field will cover sixty-eight percent of the station's fourth level. The damage caused to all vessels during the first attempt will negate the opportunity for a second. To achieve the temperature required to destroy the virus, we will need to expend higher levels of energy within the field, increasing the risk of death. Casualties on Deep Space Five will be high."
Will nodded and Kathryn envied his ability to process information. He'd slept some. Kathryn had tried, but her mind wouldn't shut off. When she stood, she was a breath from passing out, but when she lay down, her consciousness wouldn't stop.
"Thirty percent?"
"Fifty-six point one." Seven answered more exactly. "More vessels may still arrive."
"Let's all focus on that." Will had the kind of easy-going leadership that made his crew cheerful, even when they were talking about thousands dead.
"Engineering reports ready."
"All right, lets make sure everyone else is ready to go. Hail all vessels and have them test their shield configuration. We're only going to get one shot, and everyone on Deep Space Five is depending on us."
Forty-three point nine. Beverly's chances of dying were forty-three point nine percent. Kathryn stopped hearing Will and stared down at her hands. Her hands were useless. She couldn't make more ships appear any more than she could cure this damn virus. She'd failed and there was a forty-three point nine chance that Beverly would be the cost of that failure.
"I am detecting a vessel at high warp." Tuvok's report drew up Kathryn's head.
Will turned in his chair. "Who is it, Mister Tuvok?"
Tuvok brought the vessel on screen and Will smiled wearily. "I believe you are familiar with the Enterprise, Captain?"
A moment later Jean-Luc Picard's familar, concerned face replaced the Enterprise on the viewscreen. "Admiral, Will, I hope we've arrived in time."
"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"
"Geordi has just informed me we are lucky to have arrived at all." The Enterprise had been surrounded by vented plasma and gaseous duranium. She'd pushed her limits. "However, we may have just broken a Starfleet speed record."
"I'll send over a bottle of champagne. Seven, Tuvok, how are we doing with the Enterprise added in?"
"The Enterprise produces the largest warp field of any vessel currently present. We will now be able to cover seventy-six percent of the station. This will lower the casualty rate by eight percent. "
"Not low enough." Kathryn said grimly. Standing up took reserves of energy she wasn't aware of having. "I hope you brought your medical staff, Jean-Luc."
"They're prepared, Admiral. The Enterprise's sickbay is at your disposal."
She nodded, deeply thankful for his presence and the great Enterprise looming over the smaller vessels. "Seven, please transmit new coordinates to our fleet so they can get into their new positions."
Seven's recalculations already finished, she nodded. "Transmission complete, Admiral."
"Well fortune be with us all-"
"Admiral, there are two vessels decloaking behind the Enterprise."
"You didn't tell us you had company, Jean-Luc." Will teased, waiting to raise their shields.
Tuvok raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Captains, Admiral. Both vessels are Klingon. They have identified themselves as the ghIr vITTergh and the RutTIhr. Both are assigned to Klingon Intelligence in the personal fleet of Chancellor Martok."
Jean-Luc's face turned to his right, as he queried his first officer. Worf's answer was affirmative.
"Mister Worf contacted the chancellor through alternative channels for expediency. Martok regrets these two vessels were the only ones close enough to be of assistance."
Both Klingon ships were Negh'Var class, massive like the Enterprise and drastically improving their chances. Will's smile began to look sincere.
"Tuvok, signal the Klingons and offer our thanks. We definitely owe them one." Will turned back to the screen and grinned at Jean-Luc and the Klingon at his side. "Worf, when you bring the calvary, you really know how to bring the big guns."
"A virus is a truly dishonourable foe. Defeating it is of great service to the Empire."
Kathryn couldn't yet smile, but the weight of impending doom lifted from her chest. "Seven, add the Klingons to our fleet."
"The new warp field is projected to cover eighty-eight percent of the station. Casualties will be diminished. Possibly below one thousand."
Taking a deep, yet grim breath, Kathryn looked from Seven, across Tuvok and finally met Will and Jean-Luc's eyes. Praying to anyone who was listening, from Chakotay's spirits to the Klingon ancestors, she put all of her energy into the idea of success.
"Looks like this is it, gentleman. Tuvok, open a channel to the fleet."
Before Kathryn could speak, even before Tuvok could open a channel, alarms went off on his panel.
"I am detecting five vessels decloaking."
Will's head snapped over. "More Klingons, Tuvok?"
"Negative. The additional vessels have Romulan signatures, Sir."
Chaos erupted around her.
"Romulan?"
"Shields up!"
"Admiral, we will not be able to produce the warp field with our shields up."
"Are they charging weapons?"
"Their weapons are not charged and their shields are down. Admiral, the Romulans are hailing us." Tuvok rarely sounded surprised.
Will swallowed a chuckle. "Looks like it's your lucky day, Admiral. Be my guests.""
"On screen."
"Admiral Janeway." A trim Romulan commander with grey in her black hair and hawkish eyes eyed her across the viewscreen. No detail of Kathryn's exhausted exterior was missed. "We wish to be of assistance in your efforts to eradicate the tevalalam ak virus. It cannot be allowed to exist."
"Thank you." There wasn't anything else she could say. "Your help is deeply appreciated. My officer will send you coordinates for your vessels."
"We will await them and your mark, Admiral."
The Romulan commander disappeared from the screen.
Will turned to her, surprise and amusement dancing in his eyes. "I guess we're waiting on introductions then."
"I don't care who she is, we'll take her help." Kathryn's eyes stung. Five D'deridex class warbirds were more than enough to finish the symmetrical warp field with each of them several hundred metres longer than the Enterprise. She almost didn't care if they attacked afterwards; finally, they had a real shot of beating the virus.
And Beverly was still alive.
"Tuvok, open a channel to all vessels."
The computer whistled, and he nodded.
"All vessels, this is Admiral Janeway. Now that we're in position, we'll engage the cumulative symmetric warp field on my mark."
The rest of Kathryn's life rested on this mark, yet she stood there, calmly watching the display on the Titan's viewscreen.
"Engage."
