Chapter XV
B'Elanna Torres threw her uniform jacket onto the chair in her quarters and slumped into a seat, too shattered to even order the lights on. For a moment, she sat in the darkness, a tear trickling down her face, unnoticed, until she became aware of a soft bleeping sound.
For another moment, she ignored it, but then, angered, she jumped to her feet and moved to the comm unit. If it was Joe Carey requesting an engineering schematic or something, he would get a real fright.
However, as she drew closer, she could see that it was a deposited message, pre-recorded at some time earlier. Curiosity overcoming grief for a moment, she said, 'Computer, display message.'
What she saw next froze her heart. Tom Paris' face appeared on the screen. 'B'Elanna, if you're watching this, I'm dead,' his voice began abruptly. Even on a recorded message, his voice still shot through her spine like freezing liquid nitrogen. The image smiled, and B'Elanna realised that he was sat in the cockpit of the Delta Flyer. The message was dated just after they had started their relationship. 'I'm not a cautious guy normally, but because I love you, more than anything or anyone, I've decided to record this message. I'm gonna broadcast it every time I leave on a mission without you.' B'Elanna slumped to her knees before the screen, her heart broken, her face distraught, her eyes streaming with tears. Her hand came to rest on the screen, touching Paris' image.
'If I've died on an away mission, then don't blame anybody who ordered me out on the mission. Not Janeway, or Chakotay, or Tuvok. No-one. I've decided to take the mission, for good or for bad, and it's my responsibility alone. There's probably some Klingon proverb about how blaming someone for someone else's decision takes away their honour, but all I know is that I'm the one who has to deal with the responsibility for my decisions, and that means it's my responsibility in the final reckoning. All I want is for you to live your life out and get home, and tell my dad about me, and about us. If you want, find another person, but don't live in the past. Forget me if I cause you too much pain, but don't let me hold you back. I'll understand.'
The face glanced down. 'Oops, better be getting back to duty.' Paris looked at the screen again, his eyes seemingly looking through Torres' fingers. 'B'Elanna, you are the most precious thing in the universe, and I won't rest easy if you forget that. I'm no longer important. You are.' The face leaned closer and he whispered the first words of Klingon that B'Elanna had ever heard him use at any time, words he had learned especially for her. 'Qapla, par'machai.' Success, my love.
The screen blanked out, leaving Torres all alone again in the darkness, knelt with her hand pressed against the screen. After a while, the silence was broken by the sound of sobbing.
Captain Janeway looked extremely thoughtful on her return from the Enterprise, thought Chakotay. She had merely ordered them to hold position and then retired to her ready room. There were still ten minutes before the Borg were due to arrive.
B'Elanna had not yet returned to duty, but Chakotay was unsurprised by that. He and the bridge crew were still shocked by Tom's sudden death, but it would hit B'Elanna far harder.
Kim stared listlessly at his console for long minutes, before recovering himself. Tuvok had taken five minutes to disappear to his quarters for mediation on Paris' death, and Chakotay himself had offered a silent prayer to his spirit guide to help Tom's soul. And help all of their souls if this plan went wrong.
Even Seven of Nine appeared perturbed by the horror of the last few hours. However, that might be something to do with the approach of a Borg vessel. The former drone had expressed her distaste for a return to the Collective many times in the past.
However, maybe she was just feeling upset at the death of a fellow human being. There's a first time for everything....
Seven had not been able to categorise the feelings she had experienced at the events just past. Although over the last three years, she had experienced many new sensations, she had never before been subjected to such an emotional assault.
Obviously, there had been the discovery of the Fleet they had subsequently joined, and the possibility of going to Earth had raised trepidation and nervousness, a sensation that the EMH had labelled once as "butterflies", although what small airborne insects had to do with anything was anyone's guess.
Then, the relief that she was embarrassed to confess came when she realised that the Fleet had not come to retrieve Voyager, but was fleeing from a threat to the Alpha Quadrant.
And then, Janeway had shown them those pictures.
The utter, leaden, spine-chilling horror that freezes the blood, and stops the heart from beating for a moment had been spoken about by the Doctor many times, but Seven had not experienced it before, not even when facing Species 8472 or the Borg Queen.
But the Aralla.... They were one of the greatest threats in history. All Borg vessels were ordered to avoid them at any cost, and to signal their presence to the Unicomplex immediately. They were far more dangerous than Species 8472, and it was Seven's responsibility to bear that knowledge. However, she had already come to a decision about that.
What was more troubling were her feelings concerning Tom Paris – or rather, B'Elanna Torres. When the Sphere had destroyed Tom's shuttle, she had felt a – Well, as she had previously noted, she was unable to categorise it. But it felt suspiciously like pleasure, and she knew that it was wrong to feel pleasure at the death of any other creature. Janeway had impressed that onto her very early in their voyage.
But stranger still were her feelings when Torres had fled the bridge. She had forced herself to remain calm while her feelings shouted at her to run and comfort her fellow officer.
And that was most strange. As far as she knew, Torres could not stand her. So, why would Seven want to go to her aid? Indeed, why would her body disobey her mind, and force her to clutch the console tightly to prevent her from running after the distraught engineer?
'I have a problem,' whispered Seven of Nine.
'Thirty seconds to intercept!' Hedly's warning was the signal for a quiet, organised pandemonium to sweep across the bridge. Immediately she spoke, the red alert siren blared, the emergency lights came on and people began hurrying to their positions. 'Admiral –'
'I'm here,' said Picard's voice, cutting the tactical officer off in mid-sentence. 'All ships to battle stations and weapons on full. Shields up. And get me Captain Sisko.'
A moment later, Sisko's face appeared on the main screen. 'Admiral?'
'Ben, take all of the small attack vessels to flank positions and prepare for attack runs at the Sphere.'
'Understood. Defiant out –'
'Hang on a moment, Ben,' said Picard sharply. 'I also need you to do something for me. If the Enterprise is destroyed or I'm captured or killed, I want you to take command of the Fleet.'
'Sir –'
'Do it! You're the only one who can.'
Sisko nodded reluctantly. 'Understood. Defiant out.'
The screen blanked out, and Hedly said, 'Fifteen seconds.'
Picard looked at Truper. 'Take the Enterprise forward of the Fleet, but order all ships to hold their positions.'
'Aye, sir,' replied the young man, his voice calm.
There was a pause, and then Hedly said, 'Borg Sphere off starboard bow!'
Picard tensed up and said, 'On screen.'
The huge expanse of the Sphere loomed suddenly out of warp speed, as the Borg vessel slowed and halted before the Enterprise. Picard swallowed his fear and glanced at Hedly. 'Fleet status?'
'All ships holding position, no weapons fired,' replied the young woman, reading her commander's mind.
Picard and Worf both stood, and Worf nodded to Picard. 'Good luck, sir.'
Picard smiled and said, 'Thank you.'
'Admiral, I'm getting a transmission over the subspace channel specifically for you,' said Hedly disbelievingly.
'Where from?'
Hedly looked up at the screen. 'From the Sphere.'
Picard frowned. 'On screen. Fleet-wide band.'
He turned back, as the Borg Sphere was replaced by the typical view of the interior of any Borg ship. A white glow, filling the background of the huge expanse of metal and darkness. A voice made up of thousands spoke. 'We are the Borg. We will escort you to Unicomplex 001 immediately. You will not be harmed.'
Picard blinked, stunned beyond belief, all of his carefully crafted speeches, arguments and counter-arguments dissolving into nothing. Never had he expected the Borg to be anywhere near this helpful. He could only look at Worf, who bore a similarly stunned face. Picard turned his attention to the glow, sensing that the Borg expected a reply. 'Why?'
'All questions will be answered at the Unicomplex. Set course 557 mark 254 and engage at warp nine.'
The screen blanked out, replaced by the view of the Sphere. The enormous vessel backed away slightly, and turning on its axis, paused.
Picard stared at the Sphere for a moment, and then relaxed. 'We appear to be in luck. Get me Admiral Jaled, General Martok and Captains Sisko and Janeway on screen.'
'Aye, sir,' said Hedly, looking down at the console.
A few moments later, a rather surprised quartet looked down at Picard on the main screen. Picard looked at Jaled and Martok first. 'Opinions?'
'It is a trap,' said Martok. 'The Borg will lure us into the centre of their Collective and strike. I suggest that we send this ship away.'
'I thought you supported the idea of going to the Unicomplex,' said Picard calmly.
'Yes, but if the Borg wish to be co-operative, then it means that they have something up their collective sleeve,' said Sisko.
Picard nodded thoughtfully. 'Admiral Jaled?'
'Go with the Sphere, but only take a few ships to the Unicomplex itself. I do not trust the Borg, but I also know that we need the support of the Borg to defeat the Aralla.'
Picard glanced at Janeway. 'Captain, you have dealt with the Borg on a one-to-one basis in the past. Can you see any reason for the Borg to act this way?'
'No, sir,' said Janeway, her tone worried. 'The Borg have always attempted to twist, divert and break deals in the past. I see no reason for them to do otherwise now. However, I support Admiral Jaled's view. We cannot risk exposing the Fleet to the full firepower of the Borg. They have hundreds of ships clustered around their Unicomplex, and going into the midst of that unprepared would be suicide.'
'Agreed,' said Picard. 'However, I think that the entire Fleet needs to see what we are dealing with here.' Picard mused for a moment, and then said, 'I think that you and Admiral Jaled are correct, Captain Janeway. We will leave the main Fleet at a distance of one light-year from the Unicomplex and the Enterprise will go in alone.'
'Sir, if we lose you or the Enterprise –' began Jaled, his voice worried, but Picard cut him off.
'If that happens, Captain Sisko will take command of the Fleet. I expect you to follow his orders as you would mine.'
Martok immediately nodded in agreement, followed, reluctantly by Jaled. Picard smiled slightly and then turned to Janeway. 'Captain, will you ask the... Borg onboard Voyager to come and speak with me on the Enterprise?'
Janeway inclined her head slightly. 'Yes, sir. I'll make sure that she comes aboard before we make the jump to warp speed.'
'Thank you. Enterprise out.' Picard turned away and sat again, knowing that he was nowhere near as confident as he appeared to the others about either the Borg co-operation or about having the... former drone anywhere near him. However, needs must when the devil drives, he mused. And the devil, in the shape of the Aralla, was certainly driving him towards a decision that would change the balance of power in the galaxy, whether or not the Aralla were defeated.
'Ensign Truper, set course to follow the Sphere and engage at warp nine.'
'Aye, sir,' said Truper, his voice quavering slightly.
'Sir,' said Thames, 'the transporter room reports that Seven of Nine has beamed aboard.'
'Excellent,' said Picard, despite the trepidation he felt. He knew that Seven would give him a valuable insight into the Borg mind, one he would not have. 'Engage warp engines.'
The Enterprise slotted quickly in behind the Sphere, which gathered pace and jumped to warp speed. In a blaze of warp trails, the Fleet followed behind.
'Send the drone to my ready room,' said Picard, standing and glancing at Worf. 'You have the bridge.' Try as he might, he could not bring himself to call the Borg by a name or even the designation it had kept.
'Aye, sir,' said Worf, but Picard had left the bridge, in a world of his own.
Seven was extremely worried. Voyager was the only ship she had ever known, other than those of the Borg, and she had never encountered other human beings other to the ones she had known aboard Voyager. In short, she was lost and alone in hostile territory.
Janeway had said that she was to beam over to the Enterprise to speak with Admiral Picard but the name had not struck a chord, other than that he was the leader of the Fleet. And the man who had ordered Tom Paris to his death.
Seven had not quite decided what was up with her metabolism, but it sounded to her as quite a serious problem. Her heartbeat had speeded up, her palms were hot and itchy, and she found herself staring blankly into space at inefficient moments. She would have to see the Doctor.
But now, she was on the Enterprise, in one of the turbolifts leading to the bridge, and trying to look at her most composed and self-assured.
The doors slid open and she stepped out. For a brief second, she panicked slightly as the activity on the bridge stopped for a moment. What had she done wrong?
The helmsman stared for a brief moment at her, open-mouthed, before he shook himself and turned back to his work. The young woman at Ops glanced at her and sniffed before looking pointedly at her console again. Some of the male officers began to whisper at the back, but she could not hear what they were saying.
The Klingon sat in the captain's chair stood and glanced once around the bridge, restoring order, before he held out a hand towards a door to her right, and said, in a deep voice, 'Admiral Picard is expecting you.'
Seven nodded and swallowed, nervous. She turned and pressed the "knocker" button on the door, and heard a voice say, 'Enter.'
She went in.
And stopped dead, letting the door shut behind her.
Now she knew who Picard was.
'Locutus.'
Picard nodded at her. 'So, even a drone on the other side of the galaxy knows what I was made into.'
Seven now realised that she had taken a step backwards, her heart racing, and fear written on her face. Forcing the fear down, she straightened and faced Picard, towering over him. 'All of the Borg know you, Admiral. There is a standing command to all drones to assimilate Locutus at any cost at the earliest opportunity. Much knowledge was lost when you were freed from the Collective.'
Picard analysed the statuesque figure before him, surprised by her reaction, and also at her quick recovery. He also noted her use of the word "freed", rather than "separated" as Hugh had used when he had first met Picard. 'Good. That's the way it should be.'
He was also surprised, very much, by her appearance. He had expected that she would be a mutilated and scarred figure, beaten by her years of imprisonment in the Collective, but what he had to deal with was a beautiful and obviously well-composed and assured person, rather than a mere ex-drone. He would have to re-evaluate his impression of Seven of Nine considerably. He even referred to her as a person in his own mind!
Seven, on her part, was unaware of the positive impression that she was making on Picard, but could not stop staring at him. He terrified her, and she was ashamed of that. Locutus was a revered figure among the Borg – as far as any figure could be revered – as one of the most powerful personalities ever assimilated and also the chief figure in one of the worst defeats ever suffered by the Borg. 'Why have you summoned me?'
Picard raised an eyebrow as he sat down. 'I would have thought that you would have realised.'
'The unusual Borg co-operation,' said Seven immediately. Picard merely nodded. Seven took a breath. 'The Borg are terrified.'
Picard raised an eyebrow again, surprised. 'Terrified? Not by us?'
'No,' said Seven. 'By the Aralla.'
'The Aralla?'
'Four thousand years ago,' Seven began, 'the Borg were experimenting with cross-dimensional travel. Four hundred Cubes and nearly seven hundred thousand drones were employed in the quest for dimensional travel.'
'I was not aware of any of this as Locutus.'
'Locutus was not to be permitted full access to the Borg archive computers until the Earth had been assimilated.'
Picard nodded. 'Carry on.'
'Finally, enough power was focussed by the Collective to break through. It was very primitive, and the Borg had no way of knowing where they would break through to. Now, they are capable of choosing any reality and any time with ease.' Seven sat down, and looked across at Picard. 'The Collective sent out an expedition force into the new dimension, with orders to capture and assimilate all races there and create a new branch of the Collective there.'
'My god,' breathed Picard. For a moment, his mind was filled with visions of hundreds of universes populated by the Borg. 'Did they succeed?'
'Very nearly,' said Seven. 'The advance force of eight Cubes encountered a galaxy at peace. Three allied races ruled this galaxy, calling themselves the Three Races, or the Triumvirate. They were the Cralzon, Species 445 as they were called by the Borg, the Boral, Species 446, and the Aralla.'
'The Aralla were part of an alliance?' gasped Picard. 'I thought that they thought of all other races as vermin or lower life.'
'I will explain everything,' said Seven calmly, and Picard smiled slightly.
'Understood.'
Seven continued, 'Of the Three Races, the Cralzon were the strongest, and the Aralla the weakest. Between the three, they ruled almost four hundred races. In the first battles against the Cralzon, whose worlds the Cubes emerged amongst, the Borg were totally triumphant. The Cralzon were not capable of standing up against the Cubes, despite their massive superiority in numbers and firepower. The Collective assimilated millions of Cralzon in less than a year.'
Seven stood and began to pace, the words coming out in a flow, her litany of the destruction of a civilisation stunning Picard into silence. 'By the time the Collective attacked the Boral, they had devastated most of the Cralzon Empire, which was the most powerful part of that galaxy. When the Boral were first attacked, they had had time to prepare, and tried to hold off the Borg until help could arrive. The Aralla, however, could not reach them in time. The Boral were totally assimilated into the Collective.'
Picard took a deep breath, trying to calm his mind, which was reeling from the impact of so many twists and turns. Now, he had a partial reason for the Aralla invasion. 'I have spoken with a member of the Aralla. It did not say that they had come for vengeance.'
'No, sir, it would not,' said Seven immediately. 'The Borg were extremely efficient at concealing their origin. It was believed by the Boral that the Borg were from the Cralzon Empire, and that they had rebelled against the Three Races. Whenever the Borg attacked, they were ordered to stop their rebellion. By the time the Collective attacked the Aralla, it was forgotten where the Borg had first attacked. It took the Collective thirty years to subdue the Boral.'
'Thirty years? How could the Aralla not get aid to them in time?'
'None of the Triumvirate had any form of warp drive. Your engineering records from the first Aralla attacks on Romulus show that no Aralla ship had warp capability before the battle of Romulus. Thus, none of the Three Races could launch any sort of counter-attack, and the Borg were able to attack when and where at any time.'
Picard nodded, recalling his own surprise at the speed of the Aralla advance without warp drive. 'Carry on.'
'The Boral fell in time, and the Borg controlled more than half the galaxy. Although the Aralla were weaker than either the Cralzon or the Boral, they controlled a full half of the galaxy, and that allowed them their power in the Three Races. However, they had an advantage that the Boral and the Cralzon did not have. They are immune to assimilation.'
Picard stared for a moment before he found his voice. 'Immune? How?'
'No Borg knows. For the Collective to gather information –'
'It needs to assimilate a race or person that has that information,' finished Picard. A chill passed through him. He had just had a diabolical idea.
'Exactly.' Seven was now feeling far more comfortable in Picard's presence, not noticing the expression of horror which crossed his face. 'And because they could not assimilate the Aralla, they could not understand. And, because they could not be assimilated, the Aralla are also invulnerable to Borg weapons. They pushed the Collective back all the way to the centre of the Cralzon Empire. They used the same tactics each time. They would send a small group of fighters in, scout out the Borg planet, determine the local Unimatrix, and use what you call city destroyers to destroy it, thereby knocking out the local Collective, and destroying all the Borg ships in the vicinity. Their current technology was devised with that aim in mind. The Collective was swept back over a long period of time.'
Picard watched Seven, amazed at the calmness with which she told the story. 'Did they destroy all of the Borg on their side of the gateway?'
'No. The Collective ordered that the galaxy should be abandoned and the Aralla left behind lest they get through the gateway and attack our universe. All Borg retreated and the gateway was shut permanently. As far as the Borg knew, the Aralla never found out where they had come from. Obviously, the Collective was incorrect. The Aralla have returned to destroy them. But they will take the rest of the galaxy with them.'
'No,' said Picard thoughtfully. 'That is not right at all. When we first encountered the Aralla, they displayed anger and hatred specifically towards humanity. Not everybody onboard the Enterprise is human, but the emotions that Deanna Troi, my ship's counsellor, picked up, hatred and anger, were specifically aimed at humans aboard the Enterprise.' He pursed his lips, thinking. 'We're on the verge of discovering why the Aralla invaded this universe. I need something more, though.'
He seemed to recall Seven of Nine, and he smiled at her. 'Seven, you have been an excellent help to me. If you would not mind, I would like Captain Janeway to assign you as my aide aboard the Enterprise.'
Seven nodded slightly, pushing down her worries. 'I would like that, Admiral, thank you.'
'Dismissed.'
Seven stood gracefully and left the ready room. As soon as she entered the turbolift, she staggered against the wall, her legs suddenly giving way. She had been absolutely terrified, but she was about to be reassigned to a new ship, to work directly with Locutus. And if the Borg knew that he was here, she would have to protect him against them, because they would attack him as soon as they were given an opportunity.
However, she would not be able to return to Voyager until the Enterprise and Voyager both dropped out of warp. She had better find something to do.
The voyage continued slowly. On the USS Defiant, Sisko sat in the centre chair, watching the huge Sphere in the distance. In his mind, he could see the battle of Wolf 359, Starfleet's greatest defeat, replayed over and over again. He remembered his futile attempt to save his wife's life on the USS Saratoga, just before the ship was destroyed. He knew that almost all of the fleet would have these feelings towards the Borg, and that they would be uneasy about having their oldest enemy as an ally. The casual killing of one of their colleagues would only reinforce their impressions of the Borg. He himself, despite having suggested the original plan to Picard on DS9 – so long ago – he felt even more ambivalent, and convinced every second that the Borg were planning a trap.
On the USS Voyager, Captain Janeway also stared at the screen from her main seat. She, unlike most of the other Starfleet officers in the fleet, had not been involved in the battle of Wolf 359, but had been on a special mission at the time of the invasion. The ship she had been on had headed to Earth only in time to be able to help with the salvage and recovery effort on the devastated armada at Wolf 359. She had been repelled by the destruction visited on the fleet by the huge Borg Cube.
On the USS Enterprise, Picard gazed out of the window in his ready room, facing towards the Borg Sphere. He, of all, had been captured by the Borg, and assimilated. He had been turned into a Borg, and despite the revenge that he had gained the year before, he still harboured a terrible hatred for the mindless, soulless Collective. He understood them like no other. He alone, with his vast experience and knowledge, had been transformed into the voice of the Borg, Locutus. The Borg still recognised him as that persona, and this counted for so much.
He needed the Borg to defeat the Aralla, the two greatest enemies of the Federation in history. Perhaps they would destroy each other. His new knowledge from Seven of Nine suggested that this might be likely. It might be that humanity would be caught in the crossfire.
Suddenly, the comm bleeped at the same moment that he realised that the stars had become solid, no longer trails across the darkness. 'Bridge to Admiral Picard,' said Thames' voice.
Picard said, 'Picard here,' realising that recent events had pushed his thoughts of Lieutenant Commander Thames quite out of his mind. Maybe it was for the best. He had cooked up a plan which precluded any feelings for others, convincing himself it was the best for all in the Fleet.
'Sir, the Borg Sphere has dropped to a full stop and is requesting communication.'
'With myself again?'
'No, sir. Just a general communication.'
'Keep them waiting. I'm on my way.' Picard stood and left the room.
As he stepped up to his command chair, Picard suddenly felt Thames' gaze upon him for a moment, burning into the side of his head. It was all he could do not to turn and look back at her. After a moment, as he turned, he felt the gaze leave him, and Worf said quietly, 'The Sphere has dropped to warp three. We have matched its speed.'
Picard pressed a button. 'Seven of Nine to the bridge.'
'Are you sure that's wise, sir, this close to a Borg ship?' said Worf, surprised.
Picard turned a cool gaze upon his first officer, and said, 'She is the only expert on the Borg we have, Commander. I believe that she will be extremely valuable to us as an advisor.'
Worf nodded. 'It's not that, sir. When she last came in, her appearance had an... effect on the crew. It certainly stopped normal operations for at least five seconds all across the bridge.'
Picard grinned, genuinely amused. 'I'm not surprised, Mr. Worf. However, she is an individual, and we must respect that. And people can't exactly help how they look.' Noting Worf's sceptical gaze, Picard chuckled. 'This crew is very professional. I am backing them to overcome all... obstacles.'
Worf nodded, smiling also. 'Understood.'
At that moment, Seven entered the bridge.
Thames glanced across as the turbolift opened and admitted Seven of Nine. Her gaze cooled considerably as the slender woman stepped up to Picard's side, and said, 'Reporting as ordered, sir.'
Picard's gaze lingered on her for a second too long, thought Thames, before he said, 'Sit down, Seven. I need your advice.'
How the hell dare she dress like that on duty? thought Thames angrily. Especially in front of the Admiral.
Seven hesitated a moment. She was not yet used to this crew or this man, and she didn't know if she should take the seat next to Picard. Certainly Janeway had never used her as an advisor before. I will adapt, she thought, and sat down quickly.
Her view across the bridge was excellent, and she caught the head of the young woman seated at Ops turning quickly away. But what captivated her attention was the Borg Sphere that they trailed, centred on the screen, revolving slowly.
Picard's voice startled her. 'Put the Borg communication on Fleet-wide, Commander Hedly.'
'Done, sir.'
'On screen.'
The white glow at the centre of the Sphere appeared on the screen. 'We are the Borg.'
'I think we already know that,' remarked Hedly quietly. Picard smiled slightly, covering his worry. Seven held herself tense, feeling as though every Borg drone on that ship were staring at her.
'We are approaching Unicomplex 001. Only one ship will be allowed past this point. All others will remain at one light-year distant. Any closer, and you will be destroyed.'
'We will not be dictated to,' said Picard firmly.
'We are the Borg. Resistance is futile.'
'Without our aid, the Aralla will destroy you totally. You know that, just as well as I do.' Picard's voice was still calm, but it held steel. 'Allow our ships to approach the Unicomplex, but remain outside of weapons range. Otherwise, we will break off from this course and head on our own way. The Aralla will come for you first, and you cannot resist them.'
There was silence, and Worf glanced at Picard, wondering how he could possibly bluff the Borg. Surely even the Aralla could not just destroy the Borg as easily as Picard suggested they could. Could they?
The Borg remained silent, and Seven felt even more tense. Picard had brought the first confrontation to a head long before she expected he would, but obviously he felt confident enough that he could bluff the Borg.
Ben Sisko had ordered weapons and shields ready the second that the Sphere had dropped out of warp, and their subsequent demand and rebuttal by Picard had made him even more worried. Kira rested her hands on the phaser control, tense and more nervous than he had ever seen the hardened Bajoran woman. Dax had an evasive pattern programmed into the helm, and Sisko had no doubt that the rest of the Fleet had the same readied.
'What the hell are they waiting for?' muttered Bashir, his voice strained, showing his anxiety.
Janeway knew exactly how dangerous it was trying to bluff the Borg. She had not dared try it against them when Species 8472 threatened the galaxy, but the Aralla were even more dangerous than the Borg themselves or Species 8472. However, she could see that Picard felt he had all the cards. A single Sphere was no match for the combined Fleet, and possibly a single direct strike against the Unicomplex now might destroy the Borg threat. But how would that solve the problem of the Aralla? As Picard claimed, the Borg were probably the only power that could destroy the Aralla without dragging Species 8472 back out of fluidic space – and Janeway wasn't about to do that again.
B'Elanna Torres had returned to duty at last, but she was still broken, and her emotions were wildly swinging from moment to moment. Now, she displayed anger, as she said, 'Is that idiot trying to get us all killed?'
Janeway forgave her the insubordination as she had forgiven Torres a lot in the past. But, she had to admit, B'Elanna had a point.
Picard stared calmly at the screen, knowing that the Borg would give in. Picard had them over a barrel. 'I want an answer!' he prodded.
'We are the Borg. Your ships will remain out of weapons range.'
That was the closest the Borg were likely to get to a concessionary tone, and Picard smiled. 'Thank you.'
All across the Fleet, nervous weapons officers and captains relaxed from their hypertension.
The Sphere waited a moment, and then fired a blue pulse of energy out into space.
It seemed to strike something, although there seemed to be nothing there to strike, and abruptly there was a fire of blue of energy before the Fleet. Slowly, the fire spread out, encircling the Fleet until all that could be seen was the crackling blue energy.
Then, in a wink of an eye it vanished, and the Borg appeared.
Directly before the Enterprise and the Sphere that had led the Fleet to this place rested a giant structure that stretched for five hundred miles in all directions. Irregular, lumpy and grey metal combined with symmetrical shapes that the eye recognised after a moment as Cubes, Spheres, Diamonds, Scout ships and hundreds more vessels under construction. Spidery arms reached out all around, all glowing with the eerie green glow of suppressed energy and blocking out the stars with their darkness and brooding evil.
But that was not what caught the eyes of the Fleet commanders and every single person who could see outside of their own ships. What captivated and stunned them, horrified and terrified them and what deadened their senses, forcing them into mute oppressed silence as they watched and wondered, were the ships.
There were at least a million Cubes all around the Fleet, filling space with their vastness, their darkness and their cold, featureless lack of individuality. Dull metal blocked out the stars, oppressing even the Fleet before them with its sheer power. Flitting between the Cubes were the shapes of Spheres, Diamonds and the two designs of scout ship the Borg employed.
And there was no doubt in anyone's mind that every single weapon in that giant fleet was trained on the Fleet. And they would all fire at exactly the same time. And the war against the Aralla would end, just like that.
This conglomeration of power finally showed everyone in the fleet just how small and pathetic all their squabbles were. It was all very well to argue amongst yourselves when you were all equally poised to take advantage, but when the largest powers would step in and show you their muscle and strength, it was obvious that unity was the only way to survive. They realised at that second that if they did not unite, the Borg would step in and assimilate them all with ease and without hesitation.
'Oh, shit,' whispered Ensign Truper, his face frozen. Picard empathised completely.
Neelix, who had come onto the bridge of the Voyager at an inopportune moment, cursed in an obscure Talaxian dialect, that even the Universal translator couldn't identify. But it was obvious to everyone present what it meant. 'I completely agree,' said Janeway quietly.
Dax, Sisko, Bashir and Kira all sat and stared mutely at the screen. Sisko noted that Nerys had removed her hand from the phaser control. 'Major? Who said you could do that?' he forced out, his mouth unwilling to move without being forced.
Kira shrugged, not looking at him. 'Against that, what's the point?'
Sisko had to agree.
Picard glanced at Seven, who had her eyes wide open. 'Why?' It was painfully obvious what he meant.
'They've gathered the Collective into one place. This is the entire Borg Empire. This only happens at the most serious times and threats to the Collective. Even Species 8472 didn't merit this action.' She relaxed slightly, probably the only person in the Fleet capable of doing that, and turned slightly more confident eyes upon him. 'They've encountered the Aralla. They know they're here. Sir, you will be able to bargain with them. They are far more frightened of the Aralla than you are of the Borg.'
'You're sure?' said Picard. His question was answered by Seven's relaxed pose. The wideness of her eyes was due to surprise at the collection of Borg ships in one place, he now saw. 'I'll take that as a yes.'
He stood and stepped to the front of the bridge. 'This is not what I would ever have thought of as a position of strength,' he murmured to himself. However, the fact that the Borg had not opened fire on them yet might be an encouraging sign.
'Open hailing frequencies to the Unicomplex,' Picard ordered Hedly.
'Open,' said Hedly, her voice choked.
'This is Locutus of Borg.'
'We are the Borg. State your intentions.'
'I know that you know of the Aralla presence in this galaxy,' began Picard. 'I also know that you cannot defeat them alone. If you fire upon us, and destroy this Fleet, you will die by the Aralla's hand as surely as if you yourselves had wielded the phaser.'
'Do you have information which will destroy the Aralla?'
Interesting, Picard noted. The Borg did not refer to the Aralla as a "Species", but by their race name. He remembered that Seven of Nine did not do so either. 'One of the ships in this Fleet carries a virus which may defeat the Aralla, yes.' By not naming a specific ship, he might guarantee that the Borg did not assimilate the Fleet.
'State the ship name.'
'No.'
'You will be assimilated. State the ship.'
'No.' Picard wiped the sweat from his brow.
'Resistance is futile. Disclose the information.'
'I want a guarantee of protection before I disclose any information to the Collective.'
'No guarantees. We will take the information.'
'Sir, two Borg Cubes are towards the Enterprise. The Sphere is moving off.'
'Back us up. Order all ships to full attack readiness!' ordered Worf.
'I ask for twenty minutes to discuss the situation!' said Picard desperately. His plan was unravelling at the seams, and he knew that he would have to use his hated but necessary fallback plan. 'We can prepare the information, but I need to speak with the others in this Fleet!'
There was a pause. 'Twenty minutes is acceptable. Prepare to disclose information upon expiry.' The channel was cut abruptly, and Picard, his face pale, turned quickly to Hedly.
'Order General Martok, Admiral Jaled, Gul Dukat, Daimon Kreal and Captain Sisko to my ready room immediately. I need them here now! We don't have much time.' Without another word, he strode to his ready room door. He turned to Seven and Worf. 'Both of you, come with me now. Commander Hedly, you have the bridge.'
As Seven and Worf left their positions, Hedly gazed at the screen and the innumerable Borg vessels before them. 'How kind of you, sir,' she muttered incredulously.
Martok, Jaled and Kreal all arrived to find that Dukat and Sisko had beaten them there. Martok glanced at Worf, and was surprised to see his face was pale. The woman on Picard's other side also looked concerned, but Martok was far more surprised by Worf's worry than by the human's.
'General, Daimon, Admiral,' said Picard. 'We have a dire situation on our hands. The Borg have proved less amenable than I hoped. I believed that they had so great a fear of the Aralla that they would acquiesce immediately. Now, we will have to pay a price for my stupidity. Or at the very least, I will.'
'How do you mean, Admiral?' said Jaled.
'Locutus of Borg is a revered figure, a powerful one amongst the Borg. I believed that impersonating him but not connecting with the Borg directly would have the effect of triggering a response. I was wrong. I will have to get much closer to have any impact on the Borg.'
'Sir?!' Dukat's voice was raised in almost-panic. He had just about grasped the implication of Picard's statement.
Picard told them his plan.
When the leaders left the ready room ten minutes later, they all looked shell-shocked, especially Ben Sisko. Picard, though, strode to the front of the bridge. 'Open hailing frequencies.'
'Open,' said Hedly.
'Enterprise to Unicomplex.'
'We are the Borg.'
'I have the information you requested.'
'Transmit the information.'
'I will need to beam aboard the Unicomplex.' There was a gasp all around the bridge, especially from Thames, but Picard ignored it. He felt like a man released. 'Transmit co-ordinates.'
'Beam to this location. If it is a deception, we will destroy the Fleet.'
'Understood. I shall beam aboard in five minutes.' He turned to Hedly. 'Close frequencies.'
'Yes, sir,' said Hedly. As she performed the simple task, she looked up at Picard. 'Sir, I'll have a security detail standing by with phaser rifles in transporter room three.'
'No, Commander,' said Picard. 'No security. The Borg might react badly.'
Hedly looked as if she would protest, but a look from Picard silenced her. She nodded her head.
Thames and Truper turned and looked around as Picard said, 'If anything should go wrong, then I'm proud to have served with you. You're the best crew in Starfleet and the best crew I've ever worked with. I'm honoured by my time with you. Thank you.'
Thames looked as if she was about to say something, but then she turned and faced the screen again, as did Truper. Worf, on his part, came up as Picard was about to enter the turbolift, and held out a hand. Picard shook it, surprised by Worf's action. 'Good luck, sir. I'm honoured to have been able to serve with you again.'
'Take them home, Commander,' said Picard quietly. 'I can't do it now, but you can.'
'I'll try, sir.' Worf raised his fist to his heart and said, 'Qapla!'
Picard nodded. 'And to you, old friend.'
He entered the turbolift, and Worf tapped his communicator the moment the doors closed. 'Worf to La Forge. Geordi, he's on his way.'
'Understood,' said the voice of the Chief Engineer.
Picard turned into the last corridor before the transporter room, and stopped when he saw Geordi. 'Mr. La Forge?'
'Admiral, Worf's told me that you're going to the Borg Unicomplex.'
'Correct,' said Picard simply. What use was there in denying it?
'Sir, I want you to see something I've been working on for quite a while now.' Geordi held out his hand. A tricorder rested on his palm, and Picard frowned.
'It's a tricorder,' he said, not understanding.
'I've spent the last two years working on a computer program to combat the Borg. An advanced version of the invasive program, if you will.'
Picard narrowed his eyes, and stepped closer to the engineer, concentrating on the tricorder. 'An new way to destroy the Collective?'
'Not quite, sir, although it could have that effect,' said Geordi. 'I know you haven't got time to hear the details, so I'll explain briefly. When we completed the mission to the 21st Century, and you informed us about the Borg Queen, it set me to wondering how the Borg were connected to this single focal point. I set down a few diagrams, but before I could do any real work, the Aralla invasion took my mind off it. When you announced your plan to contact the Borg, I was reminded of this. I've spent much of my time in the last few years working on this. I've consulted with engineers across the Fleet, and we've come up with this. It's basically an evolution of the invasive program, a virus designed to cut the link between the Borg drones and their central computer complex, thus effectively separating the Queen from the drones under her command temporarily. If someone were quick, they might be able to assume the place of the Queen in the command structure of the Borg, if it were used close enough to the Borg central complex, which would put them in total control of the Collective, without being assimilated. This seems as good a time as any.'
Picard stared at Geordi, a grin forming, suddenly realising that he had found a way forward. 'Geordi, you're a genius! Why wasn't I informed earlier?'
'I would have done, but we only started talking again a few days ago,' said Geordi acidly. Picard bowed his head, mock-ashamedly, but was too buoyant to maintain the pretence for long.
'How does it work?'
'It needs to be uploaded to the Borg Collective with another program, otherwise their defences will neutralise it immediately. It should take effect immediately.'
Picard held up his own tricorder. 'I have the perfect decoy.' He held it to Geordi. 'Upload the program to mine, and I'll get over there immediately. We can't keep the Borg waiting.'
Geordi took the tricorder and pressed a few buttons. As he did so, Picard tried to calm himself. There was no guarantee that this plan would work. He might still have to use his fallback plan. However, there was now a chance for his escape from the Unicomplex, and he did not intend to fail.
Geordi handed the tricorder back. 'Just make sure that you upload the virus, because I bet the Borg are bright enough to spot this before it's uploaded.'
Picard nodded and put the tricorder in a holster on his belt, where he kept his phaser. 'Thank you for this lifeline, Geordi.'
'Just don't get it wrong, sir.' Geordi held out his hand and Picard shook it. Then, turning away, he entered the transporter room.
He stepped up to the platform and turned to the operator and said, 'Beam me over to the Borg Unicomplex, Ensign.'
'Aye, sir,' said the young woman, with barely a hesitation. Picard paused to take a last look around the room, and then he faced the Ensign at the controls.
'Energise.'
The blue beam of energy faded around Picard, and he found himself in total darkness. Blinking a few times, he found that the darkness did not fade away. Frowning slightly, he drew his phaser and turned around.
Before him stretched tiers and tiers of alcoves, all containing Borg. For miles and miles into the distance, he could see nothing but immense gantries of dark metal, connecting and criss-crossing the expanse before him. He was stood on a walkway that crossed from one set of alcoves to another. Below him was a dark green pulsating mass, and Picard could not comprehend its use or its nature. Occasionally to either side, a drone would get up from an alcove and start off on a jerky walk in either direction on tasks unknown and unfathomable.
The darkness Picard had found was due to being beamed in looking towards a wall, which this particular gantry backed onto. Although everything had an organic sheen to it, Picard put his hand to the wall and it came away dry, as he knew it would. Picard was repulsed by everything that the Borg were and stood for, but a dark fascination allowed him to watch.
As he did so, he noticed two Borg carrying a third along one of the lower gantries just above the green mass, one which ran along another row of alcoves. Although two of the drones were fully functioning and fully equipped, the third was stripped of all the little extras that the Borg forcibly grafted on after the initial assimilation. One arm was a stump, which had once carried a form of tool upon it, undoubtedly. The head was bare, and Picard knew that this creature had been severed from the Collective, for the interface all Borg wore was missing. The black body armour was gone, leaving the drone with nothing to cover its body. The sensor eyepiece had also been removed.
But Picard was sickened by what he heard. The third was not struggling, but the cries it made rang through the chamber. It did not speak in the monotone voice of the Collective, but in the human voice of an individual. It did not speak as a drone, but as a single human being.
It was an old man, and he was limp and unable to struggle, but his voice cried out, 'Help me! Please, someone! Help me!'
Picard knew then that the Borg, once a drone had served its full efficient lifespan, from birth until just before death, severed it from the Collective, giving it back its individuality, but not through any charitable desire. They then stripped it of all the modifications that the Collective had made to the body and disposed of the still living drone. The drone was allowed to realise all that it was as a Borg, and that it would have these last few moments of freedom before death. Picard would rather die than remember what it was like to be free and then have those moments cruelly taken from you.
The drones stopped. The cries continued, and Picard decided enough was enough. He ran to the far end of the gantry, where it intersected another that took him to a point about ten feet from the two drones and their captive. Not only that, it was only a short jump down to the level of those particular drones.
Ignoring all of the emotionless faces in the alcoves beside him, Picard hurried to the lowest point, scrambled over the safety rail, and leapt.
He hit the floor, rolled and came up with his phaser. His first shot caught one of the Borg by surprise, and it crashed to the floor with barely a sound. The second drone dropped the old man, and turned to Picard, it's tool hand lunging for him. The second shot blasted it to the ground as well.
Holstering his phaser, Picard helped the man up, and tapped his commbadge, ignoring the moans of fear from the old man. 'Picard to Enterprise, two to –' At that moment, he noticed two things. One was the static that covered the transmission, killing the channel.
The other was a cold hand fastening upon his shoulder and throwing him across the gantry.
Picard sprawled painfully, and saw a drone, obviously from one of the alcoves behind him, advancing towards him. He grabbed his phaser, and fired at the drone. The beam deflected from a personal shield. The Borg had adapted.
Another Borg stepped from an alcove, and advanced towards him. A hand plucked the phaser from his grasp, and another lifted him to his feet.
Picard was marched away by the two Borg, whilst another picked up the old man and threw him into the green pulsating mass.
The screams of shrill agony followed Picard down the walkway.
Picard was dragged down the walkway and through a series of corridors. Fortunately, his captors made no move to remove the tricorder at his hip, and Picard made sure that he did not bring their attention to it.
As he was dragged along, he was able to glance into various rooms and corridors leading further into the Unicomplex from the main corridor. In some, Borg drones waited, motionless, in small regeneration alcoves, exactly alike each one. Their featureless faces betrayed no emotion, and Picard felt himself growing angry at the individuality robbed from them.
Although Picard had, to some extent, reconciled himself to working alongside the Borg, he still hated them for their destruction of civilisations that did no more than get too close to the Borg. Their assimilation of hundreds of cultures, and millions of races, practices that extended outside of this universe, had led to their name being among the most reviled in the galaxy, if not the most. Picard felt a measure of his hatred of the Aralla drain away, because he knew that the Borg had created the situation he was now part of, and he swore he would fix it – both the Aralla and the Borg – for eternity.
Picard lost track of time slightly, as he was pulled along the featureless interminable corridors by the two drones. The dullness of the Borg Collective, rather than its danger, is one of the first things to strike the mind, and Picard himself was risking his mind by succumbing to the pointless efficiency that existed in the centre of the Borg Collective.
In the centre of the Unicomplex, that would be a fatal mistake.
Abruptly, the drones stopped, and let go of his arms. Surprised by their halt, Picard fell to his knees. He looked up.
He had been brought to a dark chamber, in the centre of which stood a tall clear cylinder of transparent material. Inside, stood a torso, one belonging to a woman. However, there was no head.
Picard gasped and scrambled to his feet, horrified. Not by the prospect of the headless body, but by what the presence of that body meant for him. The Borg behind him grabbed his shoulder, but Picard took a pace forward, breaking the grip. He had deliberately come here, and he had a task to perform here. No, he would not run just because he had been unnerved.
In a strange way, his task had been made somewhat easier.
'I have returned!' he shouted out. His cry echoed throughout the chamber. All around him, he could feel the dead eyes of the drones turned to watch him, an intruder into their hive. 'I have returned.'
There was no reply. Picard stared up, into the darkness above him. He knew he was being watched. The spider always watches the fly before it springs. 'I bring your information. What you want from us.'
'Do you want something in return?' That voice. That voice sent chills down his spine. Picard brought his hands together to stop them shaking. The voice was that of a woman seductive, soft, but no woman Picard had ever known spoke with the cool dispassionate tones of a machine made organic. And no woman ever made him feel as though he were being eaten inside.
'You know what I want. Leave the Fleet intact.'
'I cannot do that.' A black pipe, lashing wildly like an uncontrolled tentacle from the darkness above him, whipped the tricorder from his holster. Another gripped the phaser that Picard had brought, the one he had used on Beverly, and held it up to the light. 'Foolish,' continued the voice. 'How easily I could destroy you now.'
A hissing noise startled Picard, and, from the top of the cylinder, a head and shoulders were descending. Black machinery, and what looked like a spine, waved gently as the head was lowered gently into position. The face of a woman, one whom Picard knew too well, smiled at the Admiral, a smile that belonged on the face of the most beautiful woman in the galaxy, not to a Borg. 'You are an Admiral, now, Locutus.'
Picard's heart was racing, and he wiped sweat from his brow. This was the only being in the galaxy who could make him feel total terror. 'I command that Fleet.' There was no use for false modesty, or deception. Not here. Not her.
'Ah, yes, your precious Fleet.' The body was now complete and the woman smiled again. Black pipes that had suspended the head from view now withdrew into the ceiling again, and the clear cylinder retracted with them. The Borg Queen stepped forward.
Picard stared at her, mouth dry. The pale skin, the black, slick body armour, the pipes that coiled under the skin, at the crown of the skull, they all belonged to the Borg, but the face... The face that launched a thousand Borg stared at him, evil in the eyes, evil disguised as efficiency. She wore the faint smile permanently, as though she knew everything that there was to know. In a way, that was true. To the Borg, anything they did not know, did not exist. Until they assimilated, raped it from the civilisations they destroyed.
Worse, by far, than the Aralla. Picard was truly trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea.
The Queen waved a hand, and one wall shimmered, revealing a view of the Fleet Picard commanded. On one side of the picture, strange icons and pictograms flashed and shimmered. One part of Picard could not understand them or their meaning, but...
There was a part of the Borg in his soul, Picard knew. After his liberation from the Collective long ago, he had thought it dead and buried, but her proximity brought them from their sleep, clamouring at the door of his thoughts, and at the gate of his soul. They had first reawakened when he had encountered this creature three years before, and now they echoed through his mind. They recognised the symbols from years ago.
I am Locutus of Borg....
She saw his discomfort. She smiled. 'I see you recall. I have lost patience, Locutus. This futile struggle you put up against your destiny will tire me no longer. We outnumber you and your pathetic Fleet by hundreds to one. You will fight. You will be assimilated.' She smiled again, and there could be no mistaking the malevolence there. 'Resistance is futile!'
'I do not resist now,' said Picard quietly, his head bowed.
'What?' She turned to face him now, staring into his eyes for a moment, lifting his head up by the chin. Picard tried not to recoil from the cool touch. 'How can you mean?'
'I give you something, something that you cannot gain from any other.' Picard gripped her hand, holding it to his chest. He felt free at last. 'I give you Locutus. I have come to be assimilated.'
The Borg Queen stood and stared at Picard for a long moment. She was genuinely surprised. Then, she smiled. 'You have tried to lie to me once before, Locutus.'
'No, I did not,' said Picard, making his tone protesting, pleading. 'When Data was your captive, I wanted nothing more than for you to free him. I would have given everything to free him.'
'The individual needs,' she sneered. 'You had a get-out clause! You had set the Enterprise to self-destruct!'
She remembered! Oh, she remembered! Picard stared at her, hands working uselessly by his sides. She saw his realisation. 'Oh, yes, I remember. The Collective is one, Locutus. Surely you cannot already have forgotten that. My mind, all that I am, cannot be contained in one body. My knowledge encompasses the universe. It needs this body merely so I can give an impression to those that need it that I have one. I am the Borg.'
Picard saw. She was not the spider in the web. She was the web itself. The Collective, the ships, the drones, all of them were tools, extensions of her own will and mind. The Borg were not a race, and could not be defined as a race. They were – The Borg is her!
They had all known this, seen the way the Borg operated, and seen their efficiency, and not understood. They knew that the drones were controlled by a single mind, and a single command, but they still did not understand that drones were not the Borg. The Cubes were not the Borg. Even the Collective mind is not the Borg.
The Queen, far from being the central controlling force, was both the force controlling and the force being controlled. She was both the spider and the web she spun.
The Borg looked at him. 'You remember now,' she said sweetly. 'Locutus, despite my wish that he were equal to me, once assimilated, could never be more than a drone, under my control. If I assimilate you now, then you will be part of me, and I will be all of you.' She turned away. 'For what I know you want, it is impossible.'
Picard knew that his plan had failed totally before it had even begun. He had hoped to use Geordi's virus to take control of the Collective from the Queen, or at the last resort to use his phaser to destroy the Borg central computer. The Fleet could not afford to be in the centre of such a huge number of hostile Borg ships. At best, very few ships would survive the onslaught. At worst, the entire Fleet would be destroyed to the last man.
Even Picard's desperate last option, assimilation and influence from a high position within the Collective, was lost.
He despaired. He had led the Fleet into this impossible position; he had assumed that the Borg were leaderless and desperate because of the Aralla menace. He was the one who had ruthlessly pursued this course, blind to the alternatives until it was too late. And now it seemed that he had led the Fleet right into the jaws of the monster. It was the ultimate betrayal, and was certain to spell the end of Alpha Quadrant civilisation for all eternity. And, with the information Picard had given the Borg, it was conceivable that she would defeat the Aralla, and that the galaxy would become totally subservient to the Borg.
He, Jean-Luc Picard, was totally guilty.