by Peter David
I can, but my ship--even with improved
matter-to-energy conversion--has needs. Those
needs will be satisfied. Sustenance will be derived
when needed, and if lives are lost, I will mourn
them, but it is necessary. And if some race tries
to stop me with deadly force, I will stop them with
deadlier force. And again I will mourn them, but it is
necessary, and their souls will come to know that they served a
greater good. Mourning loss of life, promising
to try and be as careful as possible--these are not
claims that you could make in reference to the Borg's
operations."
"Promising to be as careful as possible is
hardly enough," said Picard. He leaned forward
on the table, facing the holographic image.
"For example, you'll be entering Tholian space
in half a day. Your very presence will be anathema
to them, as will ours. They will attack you with everything
they have!"
"My father," said Riker, "was the sole
survivor of a Tholian raid fifteen years
ago. They're fierce and unrelenting."
"You speak to me of unrelenting? Me? Let
them come!" shot back Delcara, her voice even
more harsh. The spaces where her eyes were darkened
even more than before. "They cannot stop me. You cannot
stop me."
"But years of devastation--" Guinan said.
"What are years to me? I have all the time in the
universe."
"Delcara, you have made clear you intend to use
your vessel for destructive purposes," said
Korsmo. She turned away from him and he
circled around the table so he could face her.
"Starfleet cannot permit that. You are hereby
ordered--"
"Captain," warned Picard.
Korsmo ignored him, saying even more firmly
and loudly, and pointing a finger at Delcara so
forcefully that it shook with rage, "You are hereby
ordered to surrender your vessel to myself or
Captain Picard, as authorized
representatives of Starfleet. Failure to do
so will result in direct action against you."
Delcara turned on him, ebony with fury.
"You pitiful, insignificant fools!"
"Delcara," said Guinan, trying to calm her.
Troi was flinching from the raw emotions that were pounding
against her like an angry surf.
"Have you no idea what you're saying? No
concept of whom you're challenging?" said
Delcara angrily. "I am your savior! You
should be on your knees, thanking your gods that I have
been sent to aid you. Your hopeless little race would
have no chance for survival if it weren't for me!
Do you think the Borg are simply going to forget
about you? That their defeat is going to prevent them from
trying again? No!" She stalked through the conference
room, passing through whatever was in front of her like
an angry ghost. "No! They'll just keep coming,
and coming, and coming. They won't stop. They won't
tire. They won't give up. They'll just
batter you down until you're dead or absorbed,
and they don't care which it is, because they have no heart
and no soul and no humanity. They just kill and
kill and kill. Is that what you're fighting for?
Is that why you wish to stop me? So you have the
privilege of being wiped from existence by the soulless
creatures called the Borg? I won't permit
it!" She slammed a fist down that passed right through
the table, but she didn't seem to notice. "I will
save you, whether you want me to or not. Whether you
understand or not."
"You're crazy!" snapped Korsmo. "You
half-witted woman--"
Guinan threw up her hands. "Oh, that's
wonderful. Way to smooth-talk her,
Captain."
Korsmo spun and faced Picard. "Are you
going to allow this "hostess" to talk to me that
way?"
"Morgan, be quiet!" thundered Picard with such
force that Korsmo actually took a step back.
And Delcara laughed, a deep, unpleasant
and slightly demented laugh.
"He's right, you know," she said softly. "Perhaps
I am a half-wit. But half of my mind,
Korsmo, is worth more than the nothing that you have.
My obsession has brought me to the brink of
madness and beyond, but your ignorance has blinded you
to the reality of the situation. I," she said, spreading
her hands wide as if acclaiming her victory, and
her voice rising in triumph, "am the
One-Eyed Man! Look at me! Fear me!
Yes, the One-Eyed Man am I, and I walk
the Kingdom of the Blind. And in the Kingdom of the Blind,
the One-Eyed Man is king."
She turned, placed her hands above her head as
if she were about to execute a perfect swan
dive, and leaped straight through the bulkhead.
Korsmo moved as if to pursue her and
quickly stopped, realizing the futility of the notion.
"Charming woman," said Korsmo.
"Captain," said Picard icily, "May we
have a moment alone, please."
Immediately the others cleared out, the last of them being
Guinan, who tossed a final, disdainful glance
at Korsmo before the doors closed.
"Do you wish to tell me what the hell you thought
you were doing?" demanded Picard.
"Acting in accordance with the wishes of
Starfleet," shot back Korsmo.
"Nonsense! In a situation that required
patient, gentle negotiation, you came into it with
phasers blasting. You did everything I told you not
to do!"
"And since when do you give me orders,
Picard?"
"Since you started acting like a damned fool!"
snapped Picard. "Calling people names is no way
to negotiate with them. And trying to bully someone
is a distasteful tactic under any circumstance.
To bully someone when you're not dealing from strength is
sheer lunacy!"
"I had to show her who was in charge," said
Korsmo forcefully. "Your problem, Picard,
is that you bend over backwards not to offend anyone.
How many times have you swallowed your pride? How
many races have you left laughing at us because when they
stared you down, you blinked first?"
Picard stepped back and eyed Korsmo as if
he had discovered some new strain of bacteria.
"I perform my duties with an acute awareness of
my ship's safety, and with the concept that this is a
galaxy that is endeavoring to attain harmony. That
goal will never be reached through anger, threats, and
intimidation."
"And it won't be reached through cowardice!"
snapped Korsmo.
Immediately the air chilled even more than it had
already, and mentally Korsmo cursed at himself.
What the hell was he talking about, implying that
Picard was some sort of coward? Certainly the
man was insufferably self-confident, and a
goddamn hero from one end of the galaxy to the other,
Picard said nothing, although rage was seething through
every pore. He was too disciplined to say all the
things that were racing through his mind and instead said
simply, "I will not even dignify that comment with an
answer."
Korsmo opened his mouth to reply, but before he
could, the doors slid open and Riker was standing there.
With no preamble he said, "The planet-killer
is on the move. It has resumed course, and just
lit out of here at warp seven."
Picard and Korsmo exchanged glances, and
Korsmo bolted out of the briefing room. Not even
taking time to get down to the transporter room,
he tapped his communicator and said, "Korsmo
to Chekov."
"Chekov here," came the reply.
Shelby stepped to his side as Korsmo said,
"Two to beam over, immediately," and he glanced at
Picard as he said, "You know what we have to do."
"Yes," Picard said simply, and as
Korsmo and Shelby transported off the
bridge, he could not help but wonder how in hell
they were going to do it.
Chapter Seventeen
She could hear the anger of the Many in her head.
We are hungry, they said. We have
spent time talking about the Picard and thinking about the
Picard. We need food. You don't care about
the mission of vengeance or of us, the last comment
extremely accusatory.
Suddenly Delcara felt inexplicably
tired. "Of course I care about you," she said.
"We are all. We are together. We are great.
You know that."
Prove it. Find us food.
"We will be there very shortly," she said. "There
is a star system just ahead. But you cannot truly be
hungry. The conversion engines have more than enough power for
now from the planets we have already consumed. How can you
be hungry already?"
We think you don't want us to feed
anymore. We think you are concerned that the Picard
will be angry with you if you do.
"This is some sort of test, is that it?" Now
she knew she was tired. There seemed to be a great
fog hanging over her mind, and she came to the
sudden realization that she could not remember the last
time she had slept. "Testing my feeling for
Picard against my feeling for you."
Yes, said the Many.
"All right, then. I will show you that my resolve
has not wavered. I will show you all."
The planet-killer cut straight
towards the heart of Tholian space.
"Twenty-two minutes until Tholian
space, sir," said Data.
Picard sat motionless in his chair, watching the
stars hurtle past. Forty thousand kilometers
to starboard, matching their warp speed, was the
Chekov.
"Sir," said Worf suddenly, "sensors have
detected a Tholian ship dead ahead. Energy
emissions are extremely low."
"Used up their shipboard weapons in combat,
no doubt," said Riker.
"Take us out of warp, Mr. Chafin," said
Picard, standing. "Open a hailing frequency
to--"
"Chekov to Enterprise," came
Korsmo's voice, and without waiting for Picard
to reply, he said, "Picard, why are you slowing
down?"
"To offer assistance to the crippled Tholian
ship," Picard said. "We aren't going to be able
to do anything against the planet-killer. Nothing
short of the entire remaining fleet could do that, and
perhaps not even then. We've got to help where we can
and wait for our communications to get through
to Starfleet."
"The Tholian ship," said Korsmo acidly,
"would not slow to help you. We're going after the
planet-killer. You do whatever the hell you
want. Korsmo out."
The Chekov leaped forward and, moments later,
was gone from the screen. The Tholian ship now
hung visibly in front of them.
Thinking no more on the bitter exchange that had just
occurred, Picard ordered, "Give me a
channel to the Tholian ship."
"Open," said Worf.
"Tholian ship, this is Captain Jean-Luc
Picard of the Enterprise."
The triangular ship seemed to be twisting and
turning, as if on a string. Then the ship
vanished, to be replaced by the blinding blue-and-red
glare of a Tholian. Picard winced
automatically, as he always did on the rare
occasions when he was confronted by one of these bizarre
and notoriously short-tempered beings. Nothing was
worse to have to deal with than an angry Tholian,
and yet Picard felt constrained to do something.
The voice was shrill and fractured
over the speaker. "Enterprise again?" said the
Tholian.
"Again?" said Picard. The last time he'd seen
a Tholian was in his Stargazer days. He had not
encountered one since taking command of the Enterprise.
"I don't understand."
"I am Commander Loskene," warbled the voice.
"Ninety of your years ago the Enterprise
trespassed into our territory. We dealt with a
lying Vulcan named Spock. Is he among you
now?"
Picard looked at Riker, who shrugged. The
Tholians were renowned for their punctuality, but
obviously had very little concept of the length of time that
had passed by human--or Vulcan--standards.
"Not at present," he said, declining to make the
obvious rebuttal that Vulcans did not lie.
"We are in pursuit of a ship, large enough
to swallow planets ..."
"You have released it upon the Tholians in order
to destroy us," said Loskene angrily.
"That is not true," snapped Picard. He was
getting damned tired of being accused of things this
day. "It is helmed by an individual who is
acting of her own accord, and against the wishes of the
Federation and Starfleet. Am I correct in
assuming that you have engaged it unsuccessfully?"
"Federation officers lie, especially those in
command of ships named Enterprise," Loskene
informed them.
"Sir, respectfully submit that this is
getting us nowhere," Riker offered in exasperation.
"The Tholian fleet will stop the destroyer
ship," Loskene said. "And once they have defeated
it, we will seek revenge on Starfleet for this
unprovoked attack."
"Starfleet is your only prayer for
survival," said Picard, his anger barely in
check. "Enterprise out." He turned and
stalked back to his chair as he said, "Mr.
Data, take us in pursuit, warp eight.
Engage."
The Enterprise hurtled into high warp in a
desperate bid to overtake the planet-killer.
They needn't have hurried.
When the Chekov caught up with the
planet-killer, it was calmly devouring the
outermost planet of the Tholian star system.
"Warn her off, Mr. Hobson,"
&
nbsp; snapped Korsmo.
Hobson did as he was told, but the
planet-killer calmly went on about its
business. Tractor beams hungrily licked
up pieces of the world and dragged them into the monstrous
maw.
"Target the section where the neutronium hull
was damaged," ordered Korsmo. "Load front
torpedoes."
"Torpedoes loaded and armed," said Hobson.
"Fire."
The forward torpedoes darted out into space and,
seconds later, impacted in the small area to the
rear of the planet-killer.
"No visible damage," reported Hobson.
"There's a secondary coating of castrodinium
beneath the neutronium hull."
"Perfect," muttered Korsmo.
"Sir, we're picking up about seventy ships
heading towards the planet-killer," Hobson
suddenly announced. "It's the Tholian fleet,
sir."
"The more the merrier."
Shelby glanced at Korsmo, who eyed her
appraisingly. "What would you do, Commander? Hang
back and let the Tholians fare for themselves? Or
augment their attack?"
"She has to be stopped," said Shelby without
hesitation.
"My thoughts exactly. Bring us around, helm.
Open a channel to the Tholians and let them know
that they've got help, whether they want it or
not."
Delcara was in ecstasy. She fondled--almost
sensually--the powerful beam that sliced apart the
planet, and was at one with the glorious rejoicing of the
Many as they consumed their latest morsel.
More, they cried out, we want more.
"You can have more," she said. "As much as you want.
There is another dead planet up ahead--"
Not dead. Not this time.
She hesitated, not understanding. "What?"
We have looked into the hearts and minds and
souls of these beings. They are petty. They are
territorial. They launch raids upon those weaker
than themselves. They are no better than the Borg
in many ways. We want them.
"No," said Delcara uncertainly. "For all
their faults, they are not the soulless
ones."
They would destroy us if they could.
"They cannot."
They will try. They come even now.
And they were coming.
The Tholians had greatly improved the
tractor field weapon that had become their
trademark. Whereas once it had taken hours for
their notorious web to be completed, they were now able
to accomplish the intricately interwoven construct
in a matter of minutes.