by Peter David
up!"
Dantar stared at him sullenly for a moment, as
if trying to decide whether the guard was bluffing or
not. Obviously he decided on the latter, for
he retreated to the other side of the brig, contenting
himself with the sobbing from across the corridor as the beginning
of what he hoped would be a long and terrible penance
that the bitch woman would suffer for what she had
done. However long it was, it would not be enough.
He was disappointed when the sniffling eventually
trailed off, and decided that soon he would have
to provoke her once more. He hoped they didn't
change her location anytime soon.
Worf made it back to the bridge in record
time, but what he discovered there wasn't especially
pleasing. The Borg ship had reappeared on the
screen, and Geordi was just finishing saying something
about making them mad. The Klingon immediately went to the
tactical station, replacing the man who had
substituted for him.
Chafin at conn had managed to lift the
insensate Data off himself. Having no idea
what to do with him, he propped the android back up
in his place at ops. It was truly insane.
If it weren't for the sizeable crease in the side of
Data's head, you wouldn't know there was anything
wrong with him as he sat at his post.
"Commander," said Worf, "energy readings of the
remaining Borg vessel are at only
twenty-seven percent of norm."
"It took a hell of a lot out of them,"
Geordi said.
At that moment the planet-killer swung
towards the massive Borg craft, its great
maw coming toward it. A beam of glorious blue
light emerged from its maw and seized the
Borg.
"It's a tractor beam!" said Geordi.
"Delcara is trying to pull the Borg ship
in!"
"Borg vessel is now at thirty-three
percent of norm and climbing," reported Worf.
"It is resisting the pull of the tractor beam."
"If it won't be pulled, maybe it'll be
pushed," said Riker. "Mr. La Forge ...
status on deflectors."
"Fully charged and ready."
Riker's face was set. "Set tractor
beams for repulse, rather than attract, and aim
them straight at the Borg at full power."
"I can only keep that up for
five-point-three minutes before risking power
burnout," Geordi told him. "Also, with the
tonnage of the Borg ship, we'll practically
have to b e touching them to have any effect."
"Activate tractor beams while bringing us
gradually to within five thousand kilometers.
Hopefully, with the combination of the planet-killer's
and our tractor beams we'll have enough power.
Engage."
"Here's hoping," murmured Geordi, and he
carried out the command.
The Enterprise shuddered slightly as they
approached the Borg ship, doing everything they could
to push the ship towards the fate that was awaiting it.
"Why doesn't the planet-eater fire on
it?" demanded Worf.
"The tractor beam probably takes up
less energy than that anti-proton blaster,"
speculated Geordi. "Must be trying to conserve
power."
The Borg struggled against the pull of the
tractor beam, like a spider caught in a web.
"Commander, Borg is locking offensive
weaponry on us!" Worf announced suddenly.
"Deflectors on full! Maintain
tractor beam!" ordered Riker quickly.
Within an instant the shields were cloaking the
Enterprise once more, just in time, as the Borg
blast ricocheted off. The tractor continued
to push.
And a second later the great starship was joined
by another. The Repulse pulled alongside, and
although she had depleted mightily her engine
stores with the hammering she'd given the Borg before,
she still had more than enough to provide
additional tractor beam push.
Slowly, inexorably, the Borg ship fell
towards the maw of the planet-killer. The flames
from the massive doomsday weapon's conversion
engines seemed to lick out hungrily towards the
cube, as if it were a child eagerly balancing a
tasty sugar cube on its tongue.
And at that moment the Borg ship's tractor
beam lashed out.
"Sir!" called out Worf. "They've snagged
the Repulse! They're dragging her in with them!"
"Photon torpedoes and phasers! Fire!"
The weaponry smashed down against the exterior
of the Borg ship, blowing pieces into rubble, and still
the cube stubbornly hung on to the starship. The
Repulse struggled in its grasp, trying
to pull away, its entire exterior trembling
with the exertion.
"Reverse tractors!" said Riker. "Grab
the Repulse! Pull her out of there!"
Instantly Geordi obeyed the command, and a
moment later he had the Repulse firmly in the
grasp of the Enterprise tractors.
Freed from the pounding of the starship tractor
beams, the Borg ship started to surge forward ...
But it was too late. It was too far into the maw
of the doomsday machine, and the planet-killer's
tractor beam dragged it all the way inside.
The flames of the engine engulfed it, blasted it
apart, and a massive explosion ripped from the heart
of the machine, outward. The Repulse, with the aid
of her impulse engines, the Enterprise
tractor beam, and a healthy dollop of just damned
good luck, rode the crest of the blast and hurtled
out into space with only some bumps and bruises
to show for the experience.
For a brief moment Geordi La Forge thought
that was it for the planet-killer. He had studied up
on the history of the previous one, once they'd
realized what they were dealing with, and discovered that the
exploding engines of a starship were enough to put it out of
commission.
But his readings quickly told him a different
story. This monster was considerably larger and more
powerful, and it hungrily digested the raw power that
the exploding Borg ship provided it. It
feasted, thriving on it. The giant wounds on the
surface seemed to be disappearing, and Geordi
realized what was happening. The thing was repairing
itself.
But it was slow, sluggish, and Geordi said as
much to Riker. "Its power levels are rising, but
it's not maneuvering the way it did before."
"Then what--?"
Riker didn't get to finish the sentence, because
suddenly the planet-killer leaped forward.
"Planet-killer resuming heading, at warp
seven!"
"Follow it, warp seven! Engage!"
The Enterprise took off after it, and the
Repulse, warp engines exhausted after the
assault on the Borg, was unable to follow. So
instead they set about rescuing the remaining c
rew
members of the unfortunate Chekov.
As the Enterprise hurtled along behind the
planet-killer, Riker snapped, "Try and
raise the captain."
"Nothing, sir," said Worf.
"We're still receiving interference with our
transporter locks?"
"Yes sir. The vessel is still generating a
scrambling field that makes locking on and
transporting impossible."
"Damn," murmured Riker. "Bridge
to transporter room."
"Transporter room," came O'Brien's
voice.
"O'Brien, monitor that beast we're
pursuing. If at any point the interference
clears and you can lock onto the captain, beam him
back immediately."
"But sir!" said O'Brien with alarm. "We
can't beam him back while in warp unless we're
matching the speed of the other vessel exactly.
Otherwise his molecules'll wind up smeared
all over the transporter deck!"
"I know that," said Riker coldly. "Leave that
to us. Bridge out. Geordi, take the conn."
Geordi was momentarily surprised. He
hadn't been at conn for quite some time, but he
immediately understood what Riker wanted--the most
experienced available hand in command of the ship's
speed. Data, with his computer mind, would have been
perfect. Unfortunately, Data wasn't even
in shape to put his boots on at the moment.
Geordi immediately took the position as Chafin
slid aside, deferring to the chief engineer.
"Planet-killer moving at warp eight."
"Match it."
"Warp nine."
"Keep up with her, Mr. La Forge, or
we'll lose him," said Riker.
"Warp nine, sir. With everything we've been
through, we can maintain this speed for twenty
minutes."
"If I'm not mistaken, Mr. La Forge,
that will shortly be moot," said Riker grimly.
And then, under his breath he murmured, "Come on,
Captain. Get through to us."
Picard gripped the crystal encasement that was
going to serve as Delcara's coffin. He looked
up at her and could practically sense her life
ebbing from her.
He knew what was happening, instinctively, as
clearly as if he himself had decided on the
course of action. She sensed that she was dying, even
if she wasn't admitting it to herself. And driven
by desperation, she was sending her vessel hurtling
through space at whatever speed she could muster,
trying to accomplish her insane dream.
He pounded in frustration on the crystal.
"Delcara, stop! Stop!"
Her voice was barely a whisper in his head.
No, dear Jean-Luc. It's too late for
that. I'm going to make it.
"You won't!"
I will. I must. For them. For me.
"Delcara, you are dying. If you don't let
me get you to the Enterprise, we cannot save you!"
Save me for what? Her voice was like a
dying butterfly in his mind. A lifetime of
regret? A lifetime of frustration? A lifetime
of a mission unfulfilled?
"Enough of your mission!" shouted Picard.
"Enough of your hatred and vendetta. Enough!
You've let it consume you for far too long! Put
an end to it!"
That, dear Picard, is what I'm trying
to do. And you will be with me.
"Delcara--"
I will avenge the races. The Many. The Many
I've lost. The Many who cry out. Every shattered
dream, every word spoken in hatred, every life lost
to senseless violence and cruelty, mine, all
mine. So much to do. So much to do. Her voice
sounded singsong within his head, as if she were a child
speaking. I never realized. I've been
lazy. So much to do, and who knows what could happen.
The Borg first. The Borg now. I do
not feel like waiting anymore.
"You don't feel like waiting because you're dying!
Damn you! Come out! Come to me! You speak of
love! Now act from love! Now! Now!"
And those eyes looked at him from deep within the
ruined face.
Later. I promise. You and I, together, will
do it all later.
"Warp ... nine-point-two ...
nine-point-four ..." Geordi was calling it off
like a death knell. "I can't believe this."
The starfield hurtled past like multicolored
strings. God forbid they hit a planet or even
an asteroid at this speed. Ships could search for a
thousand years and still not find all the pieces of the
Enterprise.
"Warp nine-point-six!" called out
Geordi. "Maximum rated speed! Danger of
coolant overheating!"
The planet-killer showed no signs of slowing.
"She's at nine-point-seven!
Nine-point-eight!"
"Catch up, Mr. La Forge," said Riker,
with a voice so hard he could have driven nails with
it.
The Enterprise roared forward, stress on every
part of her hull.
No one spoke. They all knew what was
happening and what was at stake. And their margin for
error had been shredded to ten percent.
In the transporter room, O'Brien's
fingers hovered over the controls, his eyes scanning
for some sign, any sign, of life readings from the
planet-killer. The scrambling was still in effect,
his attempts to lock in continually thwarted. The
nightmarish image of Captain Picard
materializing in the platform in some hideously
demolecularized state would not erase from his mind.
He'd seen it happen once, and even now he
woke up with cold shakes on occasion at night.
"Come on, Captain," he said. "A whisper.
Something."
In a way that Picard could not explain, he
sensed how fast they were going, and how much faster still
they were going to go.
"You can't do this!" he shouted. "I know what
you're trying to do! You're trying to exceed all
known warp boundaries! You want to get
to Borg space within minutes instead of years!
You're hoping to cheat death! But you can only do that
if you come with me!"
Cheat death and cheat myself. No, lovely
Picard. You and I--
"No! Damn you! There is no you and I!" and
he slammed his fist against the crystal. His hands were
inches away from her, but they might as well have been
miles. "You're insane! You're mad with
vengeance! You won't listen to me! You won't
listen to Guinan! You only listen to the voices that
scre am to pursue your obsession! I won't
participate in it!"
You said you love me. Yet you only want
me to come with you. You must come with me now, beautiful
Picard. Wonderful Pi--
"You're mad! I thought there was hope for you!" and
he turned away from her on his damaged leg. The
agony spurred him on. "I thought there was something
to be salvaged and loved! I wanted something that
didn't e
xist anymore. That never existed! You
were in my mind, and that's all you ever were! I
reject you! Now and forever, I am no longer
yours! I belong to myself, and I will have no part of you!
None! None!"
And Delcara screamed.
"Warp nine-point-nine," said Geordi
tonelessly.
"Increase speed to nine-point-nine," Riker
told him, every word leaden.
"Engines will shut down automatically in two
minutes," said Geordi even as he complied.
Even under the best of circumstances, they could have
sustained that speed for only ten minutes.
"Now or never, Captain," whispered Troi.
In Ten-Forward, Guinan watched out the window,
and waited.
And knew.
Delcara screamed, and it seared into Picard's
mind and soul, and he cried out a name.
A name. And a word, both the same.
And the name and word was Vendetta, spoken with
hatred and fury and loathing. There was no trace of
love.
And a voice cut through his mind and spoke four
words in response. And the response was simple
and eternal I thought you understood.
And he disappeared in a haze of blue.
"Warp nine-point-nine-nine," said Geordi,
pronouncing a death sentence.
At nearly 8000 times the speed of light, the
doomsday machine, second and final draft,
hurtled away. The Enterprise's engines
powered down.
And then, in a burst of power that was unrecorded
in the annals of Starfleet and physics, the
doomsday machine, Mark two, leaped beyond all
known speeds. Alien warp technology of a like that
had never been seen before, and never would again, smashed
through the barriers of time and space, all driven
by one overwhelming need.
It tore, unstoppably, and inevitably,
towards the speed limit of the galaxy. Towards the
unreachable. Toward warp ten.
And vanished.
Chapter Twenty-four
Sweet Picard was gone.
Delcara understood. Sometimes, for those you love,
you have to let them go. None of it mattered
anymore. He had his life, and she had hers.
The Enterprise was long gone now, unable
to keep up. Delcara had reached and exceeded
speeds that had been thought to be impossible. But
nothing was impossible if the will and the drive and the need
were strong enough.
Her life. Her vendetta. A journey of
years would instead be a journey of minutes. She