by Peter David
created as an anti-Borg weapon?" asked
Geordi.
"We projected back along the original
planet-killer's path, just as the crew of the first
Enterprise did," said Picard, and obediently
the overview of the galaxy reappeared, this
time with a broken line cutting across the Alpha and
Beta quadrants. "Science officer Spock
projected that the planet-killer's rather
straightforward path of attack meant it
originated from outside our galaxy. It did.
I surmise that it was created beyond the galactic
barrier, in a space station or artificial city.
Projecting the planet-killer's path forward,
Mr. Spock discovered that the machine's course
would take it straight towards Earth. Also
correct. Look, however, at the direction it
would have gone, and the ultimate destination it would have
found, had it not been deactivated."
The glowing line ran straight and true, slicing
directly into the heart of the Delta quadrant.
"Borg space," said Riker.
"Right down their throats," agreed Geordi.
"It would have taken the planet-killer, at the
speed it was going, hundreds of years to get there,"
said Picard. "Possibly they didn't intend it
to actually be launched, but they obviously felt
they had no choice. Besides, they reasoned that if the
Borg continued their conquest, they would undoubtedly
run into the planet-killer halfway."
"But the original Enterprise killed it,"
said Riker.
"That's right. Ironically, the Enterprise
NCC-1701 defeated a weapon that was created
to defeat beings that the Enterprise
NCC-1701-D is forced to face."
"Terrific," said Geordi. "But what else
could they have done?"
"Nothing else," said Picard. "Now, here's
the rest of it. The final version of the
planet-killer was never launched. We don't
know the reason. Perhaps they hit some sort of
technological snag. Perhaps they simply
decided to flee the area of the Milky Way
galaxy altogether."
"Or perhaps," said Guinan, "they'd created a
weapon so powerful, that they were concerned it would be an
even greater menace than the Borg."
"That's a cheery thought," said Geordi.
"So it was never launched," said Picard. "And
it floated here, beyond the edge of our galaxy." The
captain tapped it on the computer screen,
"unmoving, abandoned, forgotten. Until it was
discovered by a woman with a vendetta. A woman
who wanted to destroy the Borg and would allow
nothing to stand in her way. A woman named
Delcara. She got to the ship, activated it, and
is now heading towards Borg space. She
encountered the Borg ship here at Penzatti and
demolished it. She then ran into the Repulse,
and overcame it. According to the Repulse, it looked
like this."
The planet-killer that the Repulse had fought
and lost appeared on the screen.
Deanna Troi gasped, her mind reeling
against it, and the others looked at her immediately.
"Deanna--?" said Riker.
"I know it somehow," she said. "I ... I
saw it, but I can't remember ..." She closed
her eyes, clearly straining as if she were trying
to browbeat her mind into doing her bidding. "That
shape, and those spires ..."
"Counselor Troi, what do you remember?"
said Picard urgently. He made no effort
to mollycoddle her. He'd seen, in recent
days, how poorly she took to treatment such as that,
especially when she was feeling confused or out of
sorts.
"I ..." She shook her head. "I can't
recall. That dream I mentioned earlier ... there
was a flash of that machine's overall shape. But
I can't remember more. I'm sorry,
Captain."
"It's all right. I suspect we'll be
having more than enough personal experience with it."
"Captain, are you saying that the Earth is in
direct danger, as it was when the original
planet-killer was en route?"
"Curiously, no. If you'll note here, this
new device seems to be following an
elliptical path." Another glowing line
appeared and Picard's finger traced the line. "It
starts at the same point, but curves around our
sector. Still, there are sufficient populated
areas that concern is warranted. Mr. Data, I
want course set for the Kalish star system, the
last known location of the planet-killer that the
Repulse encountered."
The officers looked at each other for a moment in
surprise, and finally Riker said, "Captain,
shouldn't we wait here, as per instructions?"
"I've already sent word to Starfleet and expect
permission momentarily," said Picard briskly.
"There is no point to the Enterprise remaining
here. We will continue to treat the Penzatti who are
aboard, but awaiting the Borg return
here is futile. They will not return here until
they have dealt with the planet-killer, for they will most
certainly recognize its origins and suspect
its capabilities. It will be a threat that they cannot
allow. Therefore, wherever the planet-killer is,
that's where they will be headed as well."
"Captain, how do we know that for certain?"
asked Crusher.
He turned and looked at her. "Because," he
said grimly, "if I were a Borg, that's what
I would do."
Picard was in the ready room, staring out at the
rapidly receding Penzatti homeworld. At the
sound of the chime at the door, he said, "Come."
The total absence of sound after the door had opened
immediately told him who had entered without his needing
to turn around to confirm his deduction. "Yes,
Guinan?"
She folded her arms and said, "Interesting
theories you provide, sir. But I'm
surpr ised you didn't happen to mention back there
the other reason you want to head off the
planet-killer."
He stared at his reflection in the window. "It
poses a threat to life and limb. It is an
artifact from an ancient race. It laid waste
to a starship without any appreciable difficulty.
It represents a significant defense and
offense against the Borg. And Starfleet, through
Captain Korsmo, has already expressed
interest and concern about it. I don't see what more
reasons one needs."
"Oh, those are plenty of good reasons,"
agreed Guinan. Then her voice dropped
slightly, the light, bantering tone disappearing.
"But there's one reason that's a little better,
isn't there? Her. Because somehow she has taken
over that ... that thing out there. The reason it's giving
the Terran system a wide berth is because she's
controlling it somehow. Maybe she's even inside
it. And you've been thinking about her, had her
rattling about in the back of your mind, for
decades."
He was silent for a long moment. "We're
connected somehow, Guinan," he said. "In a
way I don't even know that I understand. She
knew to find me. Now I have to find her. I have
to know ..."
"The unknowable?"
He shrugged. "Whatever I can learn."
"At least we don't have to worry that your
judgment is clouded."
He turned and gave her a firm, even
scolding, look. "Nothing could ever do that."
"I've learned, Captain, that it's never
safe to say never. Because nothing," she said
ruefully, "has a nasty habit of becoming a
very, very large something."
Chapter Twelve
Geordi La Forge knew that they had a few
hours yet before arriving at the site of the battle
between the Repulse and the planet-killer. The
engines were operating smoothly, and all systems were
on line and functioning at peak levels. So he
felt no guilt in going down to sickbay to spend
some time with the woman who'd once been known as
Reannon Bonaventure. He even had a
plan that he had already put into operation, because he was
certain that there was a woman inside there--a woman
who could be reached, and was somehow aware of what had
happened to her. A woman that, in some way, he
could help.
Bev Crusher, however, was hesitant when she
saw the chief engineer enter sickbay. "Look,
Geordi," she began.
"I know what you're going to say, Doctor,"
he said, "but you have to let me try. I know that I
can help her."
"How do you know for certain?" She stood before
him, arms crossed, body language virtually
shouting, Do your best to convince me, but I'm not
buying it.
"I don't know for certain," admitted
Geordi. "But every time you work on a patient, do
you know for certain that you're going to be able to save
him?"
"Reasonably sure, yes."
"But not one hundred percent."
She rolled her eyes impatiently.
Geordi didn't see that, of course, but he
detected an annoyed flickering of her
electromagnetic aura. "Of course not,
Geordi. Nothing is absolutely guaranteed
in this galaxy."
"So don't you think I should be allowed the same
leeway of uncertainty that you have?"
Crusher chuckled slightly. "What
is it with you, Geordi? Why all the interest in
her?"
"Call it instinct, if you want, Doctor.
I know what it's like to be in need. Besides, I've
been studying about her career, about her personality.
She was one hell of a character. She deserves better
than this."
"All right, all right," sighed Crusher, knowing
that sooner or later she was going to bow to the
inevitable. "I had a feeling I wasn't going
to be able to resist you. I've explained to the
Penzatti the situation with her and they've promised
me that they will restrain themselves in her presence."
"Much obliged, Doctor."
He turned towards Reannon. She sat there
on the edge of the biobed, staring at nothing. She was
there because someone had put her there, and she wasn't
going to move until someone retrieved her, like some
pathetic lapdog. Geordi took her gently
by the hand, still cold as ice, and said, "Come on,
Reannon." He tugged her slightly and she
slid off the bed, following him as he pulled her
along.
They walked through the sickbay and this time the
Penzatti looked away, although a number of them
shuddered. The only one who continued to stare at her,
Crusher noticed, was the one who had attacked her
earlier Dantar. But his green face was
unreadable, his antennae unmoving. His body was
tense, as if waiting for the former Borg to make some
move, but she gave no sign that she was aware of
his existence. Aware, really, of anyone's
existence, including her own. Geordi guided her
out the sickbay door, and the moment she was gone, it
was as if the entire sickbay sighed in relief.
Dantar looked up when he saw that Crusher was
standing over him. "Yes?" he said quietly.
"Are you all right?" she asked him. As a
matter of course, she was studying his injured leg
and nodding with satisfaction at the way in which it had
healed.
"You mean am I going to attack that thing again?"
"You'll pardon me for being curious."
He shrugged. "You explained the situation to us.
Furthermore, such aggression would do nothing to bring
my family back to life. I see no point
to it." He smiled, and it looked more like a
grimace. "Do you?"
"No," she said, patting him on the shoulder.
"Let's make sure that we all
remember that, shall we?"
Geordi led Reannon down the corridor,
ignoring the puzzled glances from crew members who
passed by. Actually, it was easy to ignore the
glances, since he couldn't see them. What he was
able to do, however, was sense people's reactions through their
body heat and the auras they gave off. Whenever
someone would be approaching, the emissions of their
bodies seemed to flicker as they noticed
Geordi and his companion, but were uncertain who--
or what--they were seeing. Then their pulse rates
would jump, or their heartbeats would increase; the
general air of their aura would flicker wildly with
barely repressed alarm as they realized the
nature of Geordi's companion.
It put him in mind of ancient times when people would
see lepers and run screaming in hysterics. It was
a prejudice, pure and simple. Reannon
had not asked for this calamity to befall her, but now
she was paying the price for it. Geordi wanted
to shout at them, to chide them for their fear, but he
saw no point to it. All they saw was a
representative of the race that had destroyed
thousands, even millions, of lives. A race
that had perverted Captain Picard into something dark
and twisted. No wonder they wanted to give her a
wide berth. Still, it was damned irritating.
They stopped in front of a set of doors and
Geordi turned to her. "Reannon," he said,
making an effort to say her name to her as many times as
he could--hoping that sheer repetition would get some
sort of response--"Reannon, this is the
holodeck. I've got someone I want you
to meet."
The doors hissed open as they entered and stepped
out into the vast room with the glowing yellow grids. As
the doors closed behind them, Geordi said, "This
is a place where we can create anything we like
that's within our computer records. I've been doing
some preparation, and I got something I think you'll
want to see. Computer," he said more
loudly now,
"run program La Forge 1A."
Instantly the yellow grids disappeared, and
Geordi and Reannon were standing on the bridge
of a ship. As opposed to the clean, efficient,
spit-and-polish bridge of the Enterprise, this
ship had a certain grunginess and tackiness about
it. There was litter on the floor, and a number of
instruments looked as if they were being held
together with spit and bailing wire.
Geordi heard the sound of metal scraping
against metal and recognized it instantly. Someone
was trying to repair something.
Over in the far corner was a Jeffries tube
that extended up into the ship's inner workings, and a
pair of legs was sticking out from within. He heard a
grunt and a muttered curse and promises that the
ship's time left for gallivanting around the
galaxy was short. "Excuse me," he called
out.
"Yeah, what?" called back a distinctly
female voice from within the Jeffries tube.
"I have someone I want you to meet."
There was an annoyed sigh, and several tools
dropped down from inside the tube and clattered to the
floor. Then the woman dropped out as well.
Her eyebrows and the ends of her hair was slightly
singed, and there was a general air of impatience about
her. Geordi allowed himself a mental pat on the
back. The lessons he learned about imparting the
illusion of life to holodeck recreations had
been well served.
"So?" she asked impatiently. "What's the
deal here? You are ...?"
"Geordi La Forge. And you are here
courtesy of an extremely detailed psych
profile left in Starfleet computers by a
woman who was afraid of dying alone in space and
leaving nothing of herself behind. So ... Reannon
Bonaventure, I want you to meet Reannon
Bonaventure."
Now that Geordi had the opportunity to view
her up close, in the flesh, so to speak, he saw
that she, in fact, bore only the most
superficial of resemblances to Troi. Her
thick black hair was pulled back in a bun,
and she had none of the aristocratic air that
surrounded the Betazoid counselor. Instead, she
had a down-and-dirty air about her, an earthiness
that he found ingratiating.
The holodeck Reannon slowly circled the
real Reannon, absently tugging on her ear in
thought. She bent down slightly, resting her hands
on her knees and putting her face right up to the