Engines of Destiny

by Gene DeWeese

  Finally, faint lights began to come into being, swirling in the darkness around her, and she could feel a growing warmth in her temple.

  Suddenly, the lights blossomed into a glow that enveloped her like a cocoon and then faded into darkness. An instant later, despite the warmth that still bathed her temple, an icy chill enveloped the rest of her, as if the very air around her had congealed, freezing her in place. As the darkness returned, she sensed the presence of the Wise Ones all around her, as if their minds hovered in the very air of the darkened room in which her now-chilled body lay. She could feel them brushing against her mind, bringing the outer, physical chill inside, as if to freeze her very thoughts.

  And a voice, not in her ears but in her mind, said: “Welcome, Balitor. Share with us the knowledge that you bring for our enlightenment.”

  Shivering both with cold and with pleasure, Balitor opened her thoughts to the Wise Ones.

  Captain Jean-Luc Picard tossed restlessly on his ready room couch, drifting in and out of that unsettling twilight between sleep and wakefulness where dream cannot be distinguished from reality. He had hoped to get a little much-needed rest while the Enterprise raced to rendezvous with the Wisdom, but his mind had refused to halt the constant stream of wildly varying images of what he imagined the Guardian’s world to be like.

  But those increasingly hallucinatory images were not now the primary source of his uneasiness.

  It was the voices that had begun whispering in his mind, bringing with them wordless feelings of disorientation and dread. In fleeting moments of clarity, he wished he could fully awaken and find the whispers gone, a forgotten dream, but he could not.

  The whispers, he knew in those moments of clarity, were not a dream, not an hallucination.

  The Borg were once again whispering in his mind.

  It had been thus ever since Locutus’s brief existence.

  Every physical trace of the Borg additions and modifications had been painstakingly removed from his body and brain, but whatever allowed him—forced him—to now and then Link with the Borg, to eavesdrop on some segment of the collective, was apparently not a physical object that could be located and excised. Like so many other modifications, it had most likely been created by a small cadre of the countless nanotech devices the Borg had introduced into his body, but once the work of this particular group had been completed, it was apparently self-sustaining and undetectable, at least by Federation medical science. He suspected it was nothing more than a series of neural patterns, no different from the other patterns that made up his subconscious mind.

  No different, that is, except for its origin—and its purpose.

  But this time, he realized as the whispers built to a crescendo, something was different. Very different.

  The whispers were not emotionless, wordless directions being issued to a swarm of drones to repair or modify or defend some part of the ship of which they themselves were a part.

  This time the whispers were laden with emotion. They also conveyed a straightforward series of messages, messages that jolted him fully awake the moment their meaning penetrated his drifting consciousness.

  His eyes snapping open, Picard lurched upright as if jerked by a giant puppeteer, almost tumbling to the floor before he could regain full control of his body and get to his feet. Heart pounding, he crossed the ready room to the door, already hissing open at his approach. With difficulty, he held his pace to a smooth but rapid stride as he made his way down the ramp and onto the bridge.

  “Ensign Raeger,” he said, coming to a stop directly behind the conn officer, “how long until rendezvous with the Wisdom?”

  “Approximately seventy-seven minutes, sir.”

  “Shorten that if you can. Mr. Worf, are there any Borg ships nearby?”

  “Other than the two accompanying the Vortex, none within standard sensor range, sir.”

  “Initiate a maximum range scan, Mr. Worf. Start with the immediate vicinity of the Wisdom.”

  Tensely, Picard waited, watching the viewscreen as the warp factor inched higher and Worf initiated the scan. To his relief and puzzlement, the scan revealed nothing remotely Borg-like in the vicinity of the Wisdom. There might still be time to warn Sarek.

  But to deliver that warning without also alerting the Borg would not be easy.

  Twenty

  ORDINARILY the Borg Queen would have paid scant attention to the Link that had just been initiated. She preferred to review the information such a Link would provide only after it had been filtered and stored and the Link itself terminated. Entering directly into a Link was often both unpleasant and counterproductive. It would expose her directly to the emotions that totally organic creatures were subject to, and the very presence of those emotions could easily obscure vital aspects of the message the creatures were trying to transmit through the Link.

  But this, she saw immediately, was a member of Species 642. Another member of that Species had once provided her with what promised to be truly invaluable information, so she decided to enter directly into the Link.

  At first, the information itself was, if looked at logically, unremarkable. A small ship with two sentient beings aboard had supposedly “appeared out of nowhere.” Not a startling occurrence, given the variety of star drives that were in use throughout the galaxy, and the ship itself obviously presented no threat. Later, this pair claimed to have come from an “alternate universe,” though the creature Linking the information did not seem to have a clear concept of what the term even meant.

  Sometime later, a second, much larger alien ship of unknown design and origin had made itself known, its commander professing an interest in one of the beings aboard the earlier ship.

  Until that point, she had been less involved with the information itself than with her efforts to isolate herself from the emotions in which the creature constantly shrouded itself. But then an image virtually erupted from the creature’s mind, an image far more vivid than anything that had come before: an image of the larger ship’s commander as the creature had seen it briefly on a viewscreen.

  She recognized the alien commander instantly, even though she had not seen him for nearly three subjective centuries.

  His name, when she had captured him, had been Picard.

  She had hoped he would willingly act as bridge between the Borg and his troublesome species, 5618, but he had stubbornly and irrationally resisted despite all the rewards she had offered, not the least of which had been power and authority almost equal to her own.

  And so, in order to gain access to his knowledge and memories, she had been left with no choice but to transform him into the drone Locutus.

  But then, during her failed first attempt to assimilate Earth, the Federation had somehow stolen him from her and then used what he had learned of the Borg to defeat her, at least temporarily.

  She was never able to determine precisely what had happened to Locutus after that. She had studied the fragmentary records snatched from Starfleet computers during her second—and successful—attempt to assimilate Earth, but she had been unable to find anything beyond the fact that he and his ship had gone missing and was presumed destroyed in the interim.

  Then, in her abortive attempt to minimize the massive losses suffered in the assimilation of Earth, she had unexpectedly been given an opportunity to assimilate not just twenty-fourth-century Earth but more than three hundred years of its history.

  She had of course taken immediate advantage of that opportunity despite the obvious potential pitfalls. In one simple operation, she was able to eliminate an increasingly troublesome thorn in the side of all Borg before it had even begun to sprout. And now, in this universe which had come about because of her actions, the planet on which Picard had been born—would someday have been born—no longer existed. It had not existed for centuries except as part of her matrix. He could not have been born on that Earth, could not have grown up to enter a Starfleet that had never existed, could not have found a way to travel back to a
point decades before his now-nonexistent birth.

  He simply could not exist.

  Unless, somehow, that other universe in which Picard had been born still existed.

  Somewhere.

  But wherever or whenever he was from, he was almost certainly here to destroy her and the universe she had created. It had been his goal at their first meeting and throughout that long-ago series of encounters that had not yet come to pass in that other universe, and there was no reason to think that it was any different now.

  She had no choice but to stop him, to destroy him before he destroyed her.

  But in order to be certain that that destruction would be final and complete, she had to learn where and when he had come from.

  And how he had gotten here.

  Without knowing at least that much, she could not be certain that, when she destroyed him, he would not simply reappear yet again.

  With great deliberation, she turned her attention once more to the Link.

  The Enterprise had barely dropped out of warp when Scotty, waiting with Kirk and Sarek for Picard and Guinan to beam over from the Enterprise, felt the telltale tingle of a transporter beam locking onto him. He had no time to react, only time enough to wonder what the blazes Picard was up to, before the Wisdom’s spartan transporter room disappeared in the fleeting sparkle of the transporter energies.

  A moment later the spacious transporter room of the new Enterprise materialized around him. Kirk and Sarek were on the pads on either side of him, Kirk looking as startled as Scotty felt. Traces of anger and surprise managed to crack through Sarek’s normally impassive mask, his eyes narrowing as they fell on a grim-faced Picard standing next to the ensign operating the transporter controls.

  “Shields up,” Picard snapped to someone on the distant bridge.

  “Picard,” Sarek began, his tone stiff even for a Vulcan, “I demand an explanation for—”

  “Arbiter Sarek,” Picard interrupted, “please accept my apology for changing plans without warning you. I know I promised to transport onto the Wisdom for our first meeting, but I have obtained new information since that promise was made, information that makes it essential that I speak with you privately, away from the Wisdom’s crew.”

  “What could possibly justify—”

  “I have reason to believe there is a Borg spy aboard the Wisdom,” Picard interrupted again, overriding Sarek’s protests.

  “Captain,” Riker’s voice came over the intercom, “the Wisdom’s commander—”

  “—wants to know what is going on, I’m sure,” Picard finished for his first officer. “Tell him Arbiter Sarek will speak with him in a few minutes.”

  “What leads you to conclude that such a thing as a Borg ‘spy’ even exists, Picard, let alone exists on the Wisdom?” Sarek demanded, though he didn’t resist as Picard shepherded them all into the nearest turbolift. “Is it part of the special knowledge you bring with you from the next century?”

  Picard shook his head. “Not in the sense you mean, I’m sure, Arbiter. Suffice it to say that the Enterprise has the means to occasionally intercept certain Borg communications. One was intercepted little more than an hour ago, and—”

  “Precisely how were you able to intercept these alleged messages, Picard?” Sarek interrupted. “Every transmission from the Wisdom, both in and out of subspace, is automatically monitored, and we have detected nothing.”

  “These weren’t ‘normal’ subspace transmissions, Arbiter.”

  “And yet you are able to detect and intercept them. In what sense were they ‘not normal’?”

  “It is difficult to explain,” Picard said with a mixture of uneasiness and impatience. He could hardly admit, at least not yet, that he had once been a Borg and still occasionally experienced ephemeral links with nearby segments of the collective.

  “You wish me to assume, then, Picard, that in the future you claim to have come from, you have developed a technology that makes such detection possible?”

  “You could assume that,” Picard said uncomfortably, “although it is not a technology, per se.”

  Sarek studied the Enterprise captain for a moment, then seemed to come to a conclusion. “You have found a way to tap into the thoughts of the collective,” he said, his voice as uninflected as if he were discussing a missing uniform button.

  Picard cast a startled look at Sarek. “Only in a very limited way,” he admitted. “I will gladly explain as much as I can, but later. At this point—”

  “What was contained in this intercepted message?” Sarek interrupted. “And what leads you to believe that it originated on the Wisdom?”

  “I can’t be certain it originated on the Wisdom, but it did inform the Borg of the presence of two beings who had ‘appeared out of nowhere’ and who claimed to be from an alternate universe. It also told of the imminent arrival of another, larger ship from that same universe.”

  “What possible interest could that information have for the Borg?”

  “I have no idea, Arbiter, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you and I were openly discussing the Guardian. It is therefore likely that this spy will learn—may already have learned—not only of the Guardian’s existence but of its potential value.”

  “If the communication you intercepted said nothing of the Guardian, is it not logical to assume that the so-called spy was not aware of it?”

  “Perhaps, but it is also possible that I did not intercept the entire message. Or that the spy was not yet aware of the Guardian’s nature or its importance.”

  Before Sarek could reply, the turbolift doors hissed open on the bridge and Picard gestured them out.

  Sarek and Kirk and Scotty came to a halt outside the turbolift doors, their eyes taking in the bridge and its crew. Kirk said nothing, just pursed his lips in a silent whistle. Sarek, not surprisingly, showed no reaction whatsoever, while Scotty, suddenly excruciatingly conscious of what his rash actions had caused, flushed and lowered his eyes, wishing he had his own personal cloaking device.

  As the turbolift doors hissed shut, Riker stood up to relinquish the captain’s chair, but Picard gestured for him to remain where he was.

  “The commander of the Wisdom is getting impatient,” Riker said, indicating the viewscreen and the angular, Romulan-like ship belligerently facing the Enterprise.

  “I will speak with him,” Sarek said, stepping forward.

  “On screen,” Riker acknowledged as Sarek made his way to stand before the screen, by which time Commander Varkan’s image had appeared, replacing that of the Wisdom. Picard remained behind, near the turbolift with Kirk and Scott, silently guiding them toward his ready room.

  “Arbiter, are you—” the Romulan commander began with a scowl, but Sarek cut him off.

  “As you can see, Commander, I am unharmed. Open channels to Alliance Prime and to Outpost No. 2, then stand by for orders. I will contact you when I have completed my dealings with Captain Picard.” He turned abruptly away from the screen. A moment later, at a gesture from Riker, the commander’s image vanished, replaced once again by the Wisdom.

  Rejoining Picard and following him into the ready room, Sarek asked without preamble, “What can you tell me of this so-called Borg spy?”

  “Very little,” Picard admitted as the door hissed shut behind the four of them. “The message itself was surprisingly clear but there was little to identify the one sending the message. He was, however, highly emotional and obviously not a Borg, at least not a Borg like any I have ever encountered. In fact, I suspect he didn’t even realize he was communicating with the Borg.”

  “How is that possible? If this being was in direct mental contact with the Borg, how could he not know?”

  “I don’t know,” Picard admitted. “All I know for certain is that he thought of the beings he was contacting as virtual gods and was almost overwhelmed with gratitude for being allowed to serve them. He addressed them only as ‘Wise Ones.’”

  Scotty suppressed a gasp as
he heard the words. Suddenly, a collection of what had until then been unrelated facts stored haphazardly in odd corners of his mind seemed to magically rearrange themselves into a simple and blindingly obvious pattern, not unlike the way the inner workings of some complex new piece of engineering equipment would suddenly reveal themselves to him when he finally unearthed a key piece of data.

  “The Narisian!” he blurted. “She’s the bloody spy!”

  Sarek turned toward him abruptly while Picard and Kirk only looked puzzled. “Explain,” Sarek demanded.

  “The communications officer, sir,” Scotty said. “She is Narisian, isn’t she?”

  “She is, but what would lead you to think—”

  “Did the Narisians develop space travel a wee bit faster than everyone else?”

  “They did,” Sarek admitted after a moment’s reflection, “but why would that point to their being spies for the Borg or for anyone else?”

  “They had help, that’s why! The Narisians had help—from the Borg!” Scotty raced on to tell them of Garamet and Wahlkon, the Narisians he had encountered in the future of the original timeline, and how he had feared it might have been someone in the Federation that had violated the Prime Directive and given them their boost from gunpowder to warp drive.

  “But it was the Borg,” he finished. “In both timelines! It has to be! But in our timeline, the Borg abandoned the Narisians generations ago, don’t ask me why. Here, they didn’t. Or haven’t yet.”

  “It’s possible,” Picard admitted with a frown. “Perhaps in our timeline, their invasion was delayed for some reason, so they abandoned their ‘spies.’ But here they established a major beachhead much earlier and kept their spies active.”

  “Or the other way around,” Kirk said. “Their invasion was more successful here because they kept their spies active. Or they just made more and better use of them. As I understand it, the Borg need someone else’s eyes and ears to let them know what’s going on. That bunch isn’t particularly observant when it comes to spotting anything new or unexpected.”