by Gene DeWeese
“The Wisdom is on special duty,” the commander snapped. “If some fools have managed to attract the attention of the Borg, there is nothing we can do to help.”
“It’s not from a ship, sir, it’s from Outpost No. 3.”
Even as the Narisian spoke, the visual static on the viewscreen vanished, replaced by the image of a Vulcan civilian. Sarek recognized him instantly as Kasok, one of the scientists he had personally appointed to the Vortex observation team.
“We need your help,” the scientist said without preamble. “Yours is the only ship in the vicinity of the Vortex, and we—”
“Whatever your problem is, there is nothing we can do,” Commander Varkan said, plainly irritated. “Arbiter Sarek is on board, and—”
“That is all the better, Commander. Please allow me to speak with him.”
“I am here, Kasok,” Sarek said, stepping into range of the screen before the Romulan could object. “Have you discovered something about the Vortex?”
It would be ironic, Sarek thought, almost smiling, if scientists parsecs from the Vortex were to make an important discovery while Sarek himself was within a few million kilometers of it and could see absolutely nothing worthwhile.
Ironic and, of course, quite logical.
“No, Arbiter. But a ship unlike any known to the Alliance appeared out of nowhere only a few thousand kilometers from the Vortex.”
“Appeared? Came out of warp, you mean? Or decloaked?”
“No, Arbiter, neither. There were no—” The scientist broke off, turning momentarily to tap a series of commands into something out of range of the screen. “Here, Arbiter,” he said, turning back to the screen, “you can see for yourself. This is the visual image sequence from observation platform number two. Watch the right edge of the screen, just beyond the edge of the Vortex itself.”
“Kasok—” the commander began, obviously annoyed at the scientist’s presumption, but Sarek silenced him with a wave of his hand.
“Please continue,” Sarek said.
An instant later, Kasok’s image was replaced on the screen by a section of the Vortex, the image uncomfortably bright and far more detailed than the “direct view” Sarek had gotten earlier on the same viewscreen. Smoothly but rapidly, the image dimmed, transforming the Vortex from a raging inferno to a swirling but still detail-laden fog.
As the Vortex faded, the background of stars that had been obscured by its brilliance emerged and an arrow-shaped pointer appeared and scurried across the screen to a point about halfway between the edge of the Vortex and the edge of the screen.
“There,” Kasok’s voice informed Sarek as the arrow became a circle enclosing half a dozen faint stars, “that is where the object will appear.”
And within seconds, it did. For a moment, it flickered, as if it were an image being transmitted to the viewscreen through a faulty connection, coming into existence and then fading out and returning again and yet again. Kasok had been right, Sarek thought. This “appearance” did indeed bear no resemblance to an object emerging from warp or de-cloaking.
Then the object was solid and unwavering, a tiny rectangle, essentially motionless with respect to the Vortex.
“What is it?” Sarek asked.
Kasok hesitated, but only a moment. “We have no idea, Arbiter. That is why I contacted the Wisdom . It is the only Alliance vessel within range and therefore the only one capable of investigating.”
“Out of the question,” the Romulan commander snapped, but once again Sarek gestured him to silence.
Two possibilities had occurred instantly to the Vulcan. First, because the ship had appeared not only close by the Vortex but in an unknown manner, it could very well be associated with the Vortex in some way and might therefore be a source of information about the Vortex. Second, the ship might be a trick, something created by Zarcot and the Cardassians and staged for Sarek to see and report to the Council. In either case, logic dictated that he learn as much as possible as soon as possible about the intruder.
“Do you have its present coordinates?” Sarek asked.
“Unfortunately we do not, Arbiter, but we do have its course. When the automated analysis systems alerted us to the object’s presence, we were able to reorient observation platform number four in time to determine the course it took when it departed a few minutes later. The platform, of course, could not follow.”
“Of course. Transmit the course coordinates, Kasok, and we will investigate. In the meantime, what more can you tell me of this object?”
The image on the viewscreen fluttered and changed. “This is from platform four,” the scientist’s voice informed them. In the new image there was no sign of the Vortex, only the background of stars. In the foreground was the object, now obviously a ship but equally obviously not an Alliance ship. Boxy with a pair of large tubes running along the bottom like runners on a sand sleigh, it looked more like a planetary hovercraft than any kind of starship. Then the ends of the tubes were enveloped in a harsh, pulsing glow. An instant later, the object began to move rapidly and then, in a spectacular flash for so small a craft, it vanished into warp drive.
“That was the last image we were able to obtain,” Kasok said as his own image reappeared on the screen. “Its warp trail indicated it was moving at slightly less than warp three on the course whose coordinates we have just transmitted.”
“Commander,” Sarek said, turning to the Romulan, “intercept course.”
“With all due respect, Supreme Arbiter, do you think it wise to—”
“Without knowledge, there can be no wisdom, Commander. Now lay in an intercept course before the chance to gain some possibly invaluable knowledge is lost.”
“As you wish, Arbiter,” the Romulan said, lowering his eyes momentarily in formal but grudging obeisance.
While the commander issued the necessary orders, Sarek returned his attention to Kasok. “Assuming it maintains its last known course, what could its destination be?”
“Unknown, Arbiter. The nearest inhabited stellar system situated directly along its course is more than a hundred light-years distant.”
“What of Borg vessels? Could it be planning to rendezvous with one of them?”
“Unlikely, Arbiter. It is moving almost directly away from the two Borg that follow the Vortex. And it will miss the Andorian system by more than a quarter parsec, so unless some of that system’s sentinels come out to meet it—” Kasok shrugged. “Anything is possible, but they’ve stayed put for a hundred years.”
“Is it possible other such vessels have appeared near the Vortex in the past but were not observed by the platforms?”
“That is definitely possible, Arbiter. As you know, the platforms are located so as to provide complete and uninterrupted views of all aspects of the Vortex itself, but there are any number of blind spots in the surrounding space.”
“Theories, Kasok?”
“Nothing worthy of the name, Arbiter, merely unfounded guesses.”
“And those guesses?” Sarek persisted.
“Little more than you yourself suggested, Arbiter: a new type of cloaking device or warp drive. The latter seems unlikely, however, in light of the fact that the ship departed using what appeared to be a conventional warp drive. But whatever the object is, the most logical possibility is that it has some connection with the Borg. It not only appeared in Borg space but within a million kilometers of the only two Borg vessels not hovering around one of the worlds they’ve assimilated.”
“Agreed,” Sarek said, nodding almost imperceptibly, “although I would not be quick to discount the possibility that the Vortex itself is somehow involved. Inform me immediately if anything else unusual occurs in the vicinity.”
“Of course, Arbiter. And my colleagues and I would appreciate it if you would keep us informed of your progress in the investigation.”
“Of course, Kasok.”
A moment later the scientist’s image vanished, this time replaced only by a moving starfield.
Sarek stood silently watching it for several seconds. Perhaps this misbegotten “mission” would actually produce something of value after all.
Picard’s eyes narrowed as he took in the full import of what Guinan had said: In this timeline, El-Auria survived. “Despite what you said before, you’re now saying that your advice can be trusted?” he said finally. “Your ‘feelings’ can be trusted?”
“I don’t know, Captain, I truly do not. I believe they can. I fear they can.”
“Fear? What is there to fear if, as you say, you have been given back your world?”
“Because the one other thing those feelings have told me from the moment of our arrival, the one thing they have told me with absolute clarity, is that something is terribly wrong about this timeline. They tell me that we are right to try to undo whatever caused it to come into existence.”
“And you would assist in that undoing? Even though it meant your world would again be destroyed by the Borg?”
She was silent for a long moment, the acid of her conflicting emotions once more eating at her mind. “At this moment I don’t know. But I can tell you this. Whatever happens, I won’t lie to you. And I won’t hide the truth from you, as, I’m ashamed to say, I’ve been doing since our arrival here.”
For several seconds there was complete silence on the bridge as Picard’s eyes bored into hers. This time, she didn’t avert her gaze but kept her eyes focused directly on his, neither defiantly nor obsequiously but as if to provide him with a pathway into her mind, even into her soul.
Finally, Picard lowered his own eyes, closing them for a moment in a soundless sigh as he acknowledged the inevitable. Despite her uncharacteristic behavior of the last few hours, despite her overwhelming motive to protect rather than destroy this timeline, he still trusted her above all others. He couldn’t imagine not trusting her.
“Very well, Guinan,” he said. “I believe you, of course. But do you have any idea of what actually happened in this timeline to bring it to this point?”
She hesitated before shaking her head regretfully. “I know virtually no more than what I have already told you and what you have yourself observed. Earth and some nearby worlds have been assimilated by the Borg. El-Auria has not yet been destroyed. And there is something terribly wrong with this timeline, something of far greater importance than the existence or non-existence of a single world, either yours or mine.”
“And you know nothing of what caused this change?” he persisted, turning again to the grim image on the viewscreen.
“No more than you. But if Captain Scott’s actions are responsible for El-Auria not being destroyed, he has to have gone back at least thirty years further than we did.”
Picard nodded. “Obviously. But no matter how far back he went, how could a single man’s actions bring the Borg all the way from the Delta Quadrant at least a hundred years ahead of their schedule? The Borg aren’t known for their spontaneity or flexibility. It would take something of major proportions to have altered their behavior to this extent.”
He looked around at the others. “But the immediate question is, how do we go about finding out what Captain Scott did? And when?”
“It would be logical to continue on our present course, Captain,” Data volunteered. “Even if Earth no longer exists, the energy ribbon that took Captain Kirk’s life almost certainly still does. And, as you said when we first chose this course, if there is any one place and time Captain Scott will be drawn to, it is there.”
“He’s right, Captain,” Riker said, the color only now returning to his bearded face. “And even if Scott doesn’t show up there, we won’t have lost more than a few days. Then we can get out of this—this Borg zone and start looking for worlds they haven’t destroyed, worlds that may know when and why the Borg arrived ahead of schedule. El-Auria, for example,” he added. “At least we know it’s safe in this timeline.”
“I think, Number One,” Picard said deliberately, “that other worlds might be a better choice. Considering the fact that what we would be trying to learn from them is, in effect, how to impose a death sentence on their entire world.”
Riker stiffened as he realized what he’d said. “I’m sorry, Guinan,” he said, turning toward her, but she waved his apology away.
“Actually,” she said softly, “that is quite possibly what we will have to do. El-Aurians have traveled and listened, not just in what was to become Federation space, but everywhere they could reach. If anyone in this timeline knows what Captain Scott did, it would be an El-Aurian.”
“We can discuss—”
“Captain,” Data interrupted, “the chronometric radiation is increasing precipitously.”
“Source?” Picard snapped, relieved at some level for the distraction.
“There is no identifiable source, Captain. It is everywhere.”
“Could it be caused by Captain Scott’s arrival?”
“I do not know, Captain.”
“What does your theory say will happen if the level continues to increase, Mr. Data?”
“As I noted before, basic theory cannot be considered reliable regarding such matters.”
“Guinan? Suggestions?”
A frown narrowed her eyes as she glanced toward the viewscreen. “I do not belong here,” she said abruptly. Just as abruptly, she turned and glided toward the turbolift.
A new sense of uneasiness, as if his last link to reality were being severed, clutched at Picard’s stomach as he watched Guinan retreat from the bridge for the second time in twenty-four hours.
“Captain,” Worf said almost the moment the turbolift doors closed behind her, “we are being hailed.”
Picard spun back toward the viewscreen. “So subspace communications do exist in this timeline. Mr. Data, is there a ship within sensor range?”
“No, Captain.”
“The source may be outside sensor range,” Worf said. “The signal itself is tightbeam, being directed toward the Enterprise and nowhere else.”
“Do what you can, Mr. Data,” Picard ordered, frowning. Starfleet had experimented with tightbeam technology, which sent signals through subspace like a laser beam rather than broadcasting them in all directions, but they had never deployed it. Instead, the Federation had chosen to boost the power of their omnidirectional subspace transmitters and to place subspace relay stations throughout known space. Tightbeam transmissions could have extended the range even further, but they had been considered impractical. For one starship to hail another via a tightbeam transmission, it would have to know the other ship’s precise subspace coordinates, an obvious impossibility unless they were already in contact.
But in this timeline…
“Captain,” Data said, “I have been able to key the long range sensors to the tightbeam transmissions and obtain some limited information. The ship is of no known type but has a number of characteristics that indicate a Romulan origin.”
“Weapons?”
“Photon torpedoes and disruptors.”
“Powered up?”
“Under these conditions it is impossible to tell, Captain.”
Picard was silent a moment, wondering again why Guinan had absented herself from the bridge so suddenly. Wondering what her “feelings” had been telling her this time.
Or if it had simply been a delayed reaction to the suggestion that her home world might be asked to help engineer its own destruction.
“Mr. Worf,” he said abruptly, “open a channel, on screen.”
The viewscreen wavered a moment, as if having to adjust itself to properly utilize the incoming signal.
Then, suddenly, the image was crystal clear.
There were two people on the screen, standing on a starship bridge similar to the Romulan bridges Picard was familiar with but smaller, with an even more utilitarian look. In the foreground was a Romulan, sharp-faced with a skullcap of tightly curling gray hair, wearing a uniform that was and yet was not that of a Romulan commander.
In the background, st
anding just to one side and a meter behind the Romulan, stood a chocolate-skinned woman in a dark floor-length gown and a large, attached, elliptical head covering.
Unless his eyes—or his mind—was playing a vicious trick on him, it was Guinan.
Thirteen
KIRK OF COURSE was full of questions after seeing what little there was to see in the Goddard’s briefing program about the Borg, but Scotty could only shake his head in reply.
“I asked the same questions and more,” he explained, “but I got blessed few answers.”
No one even knew for certain how the Borg had begun, Scotty went on. A race somewhere in the Delta Quadrant must have, for reasons no one could even guess at, decided to turn themselves into a “collective” of mentally linked cyborgs. What one Borg learned, they all soon knew. And once the collective had been created, apparently its only interest was in expanding. However, instead of simply contacting and trying to work with other races, or even invading or destroying them, they chose to “assimilate” them, taking total control of everything—bodies, minds, technologies, resources, entire biospheres, everything. No one—perhaps not even the Borg themselves anymore—had any idea what drove them to continue or what determined their “strategy” or much of anything else. Except that the Borg idea of a perfect universe was a universe that was one hundred percent Borg.
To make matters worse, the Borg apparently had the technology—transwarp conduits—to “jump” the tens of thousands of parsecs from their domain in the Delta Quadrant in a matter of hours or days, but it was rarely used. Slow and steady expansion seemed to be their long-term plan, moving outward inexorably like the event horizon of a black hole that grew by eating every star in its path, except that this black hole ate not stars but civilizations, swallowing them whole and, in effect, digesting them, transforming their billions of individual members into billions of interchangeable cells in the body of the Borg Collective.
Kirk grimaced. “They make the Klingons look downright benevolent by comparison, don’t they? All the Klingons do is conquer and plunder. They don’t steal your mind. But if the Borg are so hell-bent on taking over everyone they run into, why didn’t one of them assimilate us? They had every chance in the world, but they acted as if they didn’t even know we were there.”