by Peter David
The Enterprise let fly with the antimatter
spread, and it danced across the shielding of the Borg
ship, adding to the beam that was being fired from the
planet-killer. The Borg's shields flared
up under the increased barrage and they returned
fire on the Enterprise. But the starship had
already made her move darting behind the Borg ship,
and this time unleashed a full phaser barrage. The
phaser beams cascaded off the Borg shields that
had been hastily erected to intercept the
attack, but ...
"Their shield effectiveness is at forty-two
percent and dropping rapidly," Data
reported. "The attack by the planet-killer is
having substantial effect on the Borg's
ability to maintain a sufficient level of
defensive power." Suddenly Data
said, "Sir, the Borg are falling back."
"They're retreating?" Picard was astonished,
and it was amazement that was shared by everyone on the
bridge. The Borg either destroyed things or
ignored things. They did not run.
But there it was. The Borg ship was dropping
back at full impulse, still firing upon the
planet-killer, but trying to distance itself.
Delcara bore down on them, not letting up in
her assault. The Borg redoubled their efforts and
this time the planet-killer visibly shuddered under
their attack. A chunk of the neutronium hull,
a substance that was so dense that a phaser against it had
the same effect as a lit match, was actually
blasted away. It hurtled off into space, but the
Borg ship did not have the extra energy available
to grab it with a tractor beam.
The Many screamed within Delcara's head. They
started to lose their focus.
"No!" Delcara warned them. "This is the
way. This is the will. This is what must and will be
done. Their shields are nothing against us, my children.
We will destroy them. Now. Now!"
"Now!" said Picard. "Phaser and
antimatter barrage, fire!"
The Enterprise cut loose on the Borg from
behind just as the planet-killer fired on the other
side. The Borg shields sagged under the increased
assault, and they fired upon the Enterprise in the
hopes of dispatching the flea so that they could
concentrate on the wasp.
But the flea refused to be scratched. The
starship's shields held, since the Borg were not
at full strength. And then the Borg's shields
were shields blown into oblivion by the doomsday
device's beam, which then smashed straight into the
core of the vessel.
The Enterprise came within a hair's breadth
of being wiped out, for almost as fast as Delcara's
beam went in through one side of the Borg ship, it
came out the other, transfixing the cube vessel.
And the Enterprise was on the other side,
directly opposite Delcara. It was only a
blindingly fast evasive maneuver executed
by Data that prevented the starship from being reduced
to scrap.
The Enterprise dropped back, and the crew
watched in shock as cracks ribboned
across the surface of the Borg ship. The cube
shook, as if in anger or repressed frustration,
and an additional surge of power leaped from
Delcara's ship.
The Borg blew apart, a dazzling burst of
light and color. Fragments of the mighty ship
hurled every which way, bouncing harmlessly off the
Enterprise shields or hurtling away
into space.
The bridge crew looked in astonishment at the
sight before them. It had happened so quickly, so
easily. Forty ships of the Federation and assorted
planetary defenses all had proven helpless
against a Borg ship. Yet now the Borg had
been blown from space in a few scant seconds
of battle.
A massive cloud of dust and debris hung
before them, and then something emerged from the cloud. It was
the planet-killer, piloted by Delcara, sailing
through it serenely, like a ghost. Random pieces of the
Borg ship ricocheted off the enormous
vessel, which didn't even appear to notice.
Delcara sailed past the Enterprise with no
attempt at communication, and simply resumed
her course--a course that would take her,
eventually and inevitably, into the heart of Borg
space.
"Remarkable," said Picard.
Worf was studying the sensors and said, "There is
an eight-percent drop in the energy readings of the
planet-killer. Also, there is some e xternal
damage."
"Damage to a neutronium hull," Riker
said, pulling at his beard. "That either says a
hell of a lot for the Borg to be able to damage
her--"
"Or a good deal for her ability to withstand the
sort of punishment required to damage a
neutronium hull," replied Picard. He
hoped that he was able to keep the amazement from his
voice. The last thing he wanted his crew to think
was that he was daunted, even intimidated, by the
level of power that they had witnessed.
"The planet-killer has resumed course and
heading, and is proceeding at warp six."
Picard cast a glance at Riker. "The
previous planet-killer appeared to have a
maximum of warp four." Riker simply nodded.
Picard turned back to Data and said,
"Follow her, Mr. Data."
"Overtake or intercept, sir?"
"Just follow," Picard said. "But put enough
distance between us so that we can avoid the subspace
interference and get a message out to Starfleet."
"Yes, sir."
Picard stared pensively at the screen, his
mind racing, trying to determine the best course of
action. "Mr. Data," he said after a moment,
"extrapolating from current course, what will be the
next star system the planet-killer encounters?
Still the Tholians?"
Data paused only a moment to check. "Yes
sir. It will enter Tholian space in less than
three days."
"Send a message," said Picard. "Alert
the Tholians that they're about to have an extremely
uninvited visitor."
"Captain, receiving an incoming message."
"Delcara?"
"No, sir," said Worf, looking up.
"It's the Chekov. Captain Korsmo."
"On screen."
A moment later Morgan Korsmo appeared
on the viewscreen. "Picard," he said with no
preamble, "there's a Borg ship heading your
way."
"There was," said Picard. "It was rather handily
disposed of by the planet-killer."
His eyes widened. "You found it! Word was received
from the Repulse that it was heading into this sector.
Have you established contact with it?"
"Yes, we have. It is piloted by a woman
named Delcara who has taken it upon herself to rid
the galaxy of the Borg."
"I applaud her goals, if not her
methods," Korsmo said drily. "Have you told
her the Federation security concerns regarding the power
of the weaponry at her disposal?"
"She is concerned only about her
objectives," Picard replied. "I don't
think she gives a damn about whether we approve
of her cavorting about the galaxy or not. She's
going to do what she wants, where she wants, and she
has the power to back up that philosophy."
Korsmo's face darkened. "That is
unacceptable. We have to do something."
"I tend to agree," said Picard. "Now we
have to determine what that might be."
"WE have to show her who's boss!"
declared Korsmo.
Picard and Riker looked at each other, and
then Picard looked back at Korsmo. "The
woman has destroyed two Borg vessels,
Captain Korsmo, one of them with only a
slight bit of help from us. She's piloting a
semi-sentient ship that could swallow the entire
currently active fleet, and have room left
over for dessert. She has a devastating force
beam, a hull our phasers couldn't possibly
penetrate, and a thirst for vengeance that has
crossed light-years and centuries. I think she
knows who's boss, Korsmo."
Korsmo looked stunned. "Picard, you
actually sound intimidated."
"Knowing your opponent's strengths and your own
shortcomings isn't being intimidated, Captain.
It's called knowing where you stand."
"Where I assume you stand, Picard," said
Korsmo stiffly, "is solidly behind the wishes
of Starfleet. Now obviously, Picard, I
can't issue orders to you. But at present course
and speed, we will be able to rendezvous in
twenty-eight hours. I want to set up a
summit meeting with this planet-killer, and I'll
do it with or without your help. And if they refuse
to communicate, I'm going to attack."
"That," said Picard, "would be inadvisable."
"It would be suicide," put in Riker.
"You seem to have forgotten that it is the decision
of the Federation and Starfleet that the planet-killer
cannot be permitted to simply gallivant around the
galaxy doing whatever the hell it wishes,"
Korsmo said tightly. "Not when innocents will be
killed. Whether you support that decision or not
is completely immaterial. It must be reasoned
with or stopped or destroyed. To put it
succinctly, we are to stop that thing any way we
can. There are no other options. And to be blunt,
Picard ... I thought you had more guts than to let
yourself get spooked by some woman with a big ship.
Korsmo out."
His image vanished from the screen and was
replaced by the distant image of the
planet-killer, sailing straight towards the
space of the notoriously territorial
Tholians.
"Perfect," said Picard. "Just ...
perfect."
Chapter Sixteen
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Korsmo looked up at Shelby with only
vague interest. He put aside the material
he was reading, sat up straighter behind his desk
(something he always felt compelled to do in Shelby's
presence, as if she reminded him of some stern
schoolteacher) and said, "Granted."
"Some hours ago you were in communication with the
Enterprise," Shelby said stiffly. She
stood with her feet slightly apart, her hands
behind her back. "It seemed to me that you were
unnecessarily short-tempered with Captain
Picard."
"Are we going to go through this again, Commander?"
demanded Korsmo. There was something in his voice that
indicated that, even though permission to speak
freely had been granted, he was not going
to tolerate hearing anything he didn't like. "I
respect Jean-Luc Picard. I have told you
as much. What do you want me to do, write it in
blood?"
"If Captain Picard says that attacking the
planet-killer would be inadvisable, I would wager
that it's inadvisable," she said, her voice flat.
Slowly, like a snake uncoiling from a
basket, Korsmo stood behind his desk. "And if
I order an attack," he said, "are you going
to support my authority on that bridge out there?
Or are you going to undercut me?"
Her jaw muscles moved for a moment. "You are
my commanding officer, sir. Not Captain Picard.
I would never act insubordinately with a commanding
officer," and she paused before she added, "no
matter what the provocation."
He nodded, but there was no trace of
pleasantness in his face. "It would do well for
both of us to remember that," he said. "Dismissed."
"Sir, I--"
"I said," he repeated, his voice hard as
nails, "dis-missed."
She took a deep breath, stalling for a moment
to come up with something more to say, some other way of
prolonging the discussion so that she could get across the
points she wanted to make. But nothing came
to mind, and Korsmo was already ignoring
her, staring back intently at whatever was on his
computer screen.
She managed to crane her neck just slightly,
and saw that Korsmo was studying the service
record of one Jean-Luc Picard. And, very
slightly, he was shaking his head in disbelief.
Shelby backed slowly out of the ready room and
stepped out onto the bridge of the Chekov. The
doors hissed shut behind her and she stood there for a
moment, composing her thoughts, mulling over the
significance of what she had just seen.
"Damn," she said softly.
In the engine room of the Enterprise, La
Forge turned in surprise when he heard the
crisp voice of Picard say, "Mr. La
Forge, a moment of your time, please."
"Yes sir, Captain," said Geordi. He
walked into his office, stepping aside to allow the
captain to precede him inside. He then stood and
waited for Picard to address him.
"The Borg woman," he said. "What is your
progress with her?"
Geordi shrugged slightly. "Not much," he
admitted. "I don't know if I'm getting through
to her at all. Although, she did show some interest in
my VISOR. And she was happy," he added
distastefully, "when the prosthetic arm was
attached."
"Of course she would be happy," said Picard.
"It's a mechanical attachment. Anything with a
mechanical basis might get a reaction out of
her." He paused. "Doctor Crusher is not
having a great deal of success with the re-education
program. I'd like you to endeavor to reach her once
again. Spend some more time with her. Your VISOR
clearly makes it easier for her to identify with
you. For similar reasons, Mr. Data will
assist you whenever possible."
"Because we're the two crew members who are more
remini
scent of the Borg?" Geordi asked, not
especially sure if he liked the comparison.
Neither did Picard. "I did not intend
to imply that, Lieutenant."
"I know, sir, I'm sorry," sighed
Geordi. He pinged a finger off the edge of his
VISOR. "You'd think, after all this time, I'd
be used to it by now. May I ask why the sudden
intense interest in Reannon?"
Picard leaned forward. "If we can
establish communications with her, get at some of the knowledge
buried in her head, we can learn more about the
Borg. I remember much of my time with them, but
she spent even longer with them and may have learned a
great deal more. Also, she might be of some value in
trying to establish better relations with the pilot of the
planet-killer."
"Value? How?"
"I want to show her the face of the enemy," said
Picard. "Delcara views the Borg as this
inhuman, soulless thing. If we can salvage a
Borg soldier, make Delcara think of them as
individuals, trapped as part of some massive
central mind over which they have no control--it might
have some impact on her. If we can give her
food for thought, maybe we can encourage her then
to sit down for an entire meal."
"It's a long shot, sir."
"It's better than no shot, Lieutenant.
Now, if you'll excuse me," he said, standing and
heading for the door, "I have a summit to arrange."
The planet-killer hurtled forward on its
course at warp six, and deep within, Delcara
heard the impatient song of the Many.
We do not wish to meet with them, they cried
out. They are a distraction. There is no need for
distractions, or for talking. If we are to talk
with them, it would mean slowing or stopping our
progress. We have waited so long. ...
"That being the case," said Delcara patiently,
as if addressing a child, "it will not hurt anyone
to wait a little longer."
You want to do this because of the Picard. You do not
wish to disappoint him.
"He has asked me to do this," said Delcara,
"and out of respect to him, I wish to do it."
We hate him.
"You owe him," and for the first time that she could
recall, her voice and thoughts raised in anger,
"you owe him your existence. It was he who gave me
the way and whose great thoughts led me to you. It was the
power of his personality, and the strength of his destiny,
that called me to him. The waves of fate ebb and