Star Trek Voyager: Unworthy Page 27

  The mingled sadness and regret clear on her face matched his as she terminated the connection. After a few moments, her ship reversed course and headed back into the rift, which sealed itself behind her in a blinding white flash.

  For the first time in what felt like hours, Eden could once again breathe. Turning to Chakotay, her eyes glistening, she said, “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure, Captain,” he replied.

  “Captain,” Lasren’s voice said, cutting through the tension suspended around them, “the Hawking is approaching our position at high warp, along with several Indign vessels.”

  Eden turned abruptly toward him.

  “How soon will they arrive?”

  “Three minutes, Captain.”

  Eden glanced at Chakotay and gestured toward the empty seat to her right. “Take a seat,” she said. “It looks like we’re not out of the woods yet, and I could use your help.”

  Chakotay inclined his head in obvious surprise, and did as she requested as Paris failed to hide a smirk, moving to take his chair at her left.

  Eden lowered herself between them and in a cool, commanding voice said, “Mister Kim, do we have time to retrieve our shuttle?”

  “The shuttle’s gone, Captain.”

  “Barclay, where are you?” Commander Glenn’s voice called.

  At the moment he was reconstructing transporter logs, trying to figure out where Meegan had gone. He was certain that wasn’t the answer Glenn wanted to hear.

  “I’ll be with you in just a moment, Captain,” Reg replied, too focused to remember to be nervous.

  “Reg,” the Doctor hissed. “What did the Indign do to Meegan? How did they alter her appearance?”

  Just a few more seconds, Reg thought, as the data recompiled itself before his eyes.

  “Reg?”

  “There it is,” he said, breathing a triumphant sigh of relief.

  His next step was to open a comm channel to Voyager’s bridge.

  “Galen to Lieutenant Kim.”

  “Go ahead,” Kim’s strained voice replied.

  “Several minutes ago Meegan transported directly to one of Voyager’s shuttles. Lock down your shuttlebay and send a security team to intercept her.”

  Kim replied, “All our remaining shuttles are empty, Reg. One launched a few minutes ago .”

  “Well, go after it!” Reg shouted.

  “It’s gone, Reg. We have a warp trail but we’re about to intercept the Hawking and about twenty Indign vessels. We’re not going anywhere right now.”

  Reg’s mind whirred. “Did you record any passive scans of the shuttle once it left Voyager ?”

  “I’m sure we did.”

  “ Forward them to me at once,” Reg replied.

  “Transmitting now.”

  “All hands, this is Commander Glenn. Red Alert. Prepare to coordinate transfers of incoming wounded. Doctor, have your staff stand ready. Lieutenant Barclay, report to the bridge.”

  “Reg,” the Doctor interrupted his thoughts as he studied the transmission he had just received from Voyager. His heart began to pound furiously when he realized that not one, but eight anomalous signals had been present aboard the shuttle when Voyager’s sensors lost track of it. “You’ve locked out all of the emergency holographic personnel. I need them brought back online at once.”

  “Of course,” Reg replied, unable to accept the magnitude of the mistake he had just made. He rescinded his lockout authorization and barely noted the huff of frustration as the Doctor left.

  They’ll never understand, Barclay thought sadly. And it’s all my fault.

  With leaden feet he departed the transporter room to report to Commander Glenn. The peril in which Galen, Voyager, and Hawking now found themselves barely registered. He was now certain that whatever the Indign were about to throw at them, it could not compare with the fury he had just unleashed upon the Delta quadrant.

  “Ensign Lawry?”

  “Helm control has been fully restored,” Lawry replied, though his voice held a tinge of uncertainty, considering what was bearing down upon all of them.

  “Extrapolate probable intercept and move us clear. One-quarter impulse,” Glenn ordered. “Ensign Drur, prepare to coordinate with Doctor Sharak on Voyager and Doctor Lamar aboard Hawking. Advise them that we stand ready to receive incoming wounded as necessary.”

  As these maneuvers were flawlessly executed, Glenn felt herself relaxing. The last few hours had been hell, wondering if she’d regain control of her ship. Now that she had, her job became a little simpler.

  The fleet had rehearsed a number of combat scenarios that would make the most effective use of the Galen’s unique abilities. Their armaments and defenses were sufficient to aid other fleet vessels, but only as a last resort. Their primary function was to remain out of the fray. Dozens of flight patterns had been created that would allow the Galen to execute sharp flybys. Shield frequencies were designated that would drop at five-second intervals to transport wounded.

  The bridge turbolift opened, and Glenn turned to see Lieutenant Barclay enter as if in a stupor. “Lieutenant,” she said firmly, “when I order you to report to the bridge, I expect to see you here as soon as possible.”

  “I’m … I’m sorry, Captain,” Barclay stammered.

  Clearly he was upset. Now wasn’t the time to dress him down.

  “Meegan is no longer aboard,” he offered with obvious regret.

  “Where did she go?”

  “She transported to Voyager and departed in one of their shuttles. It’s too late to track her now.”

  Glenn nodded. She knew what Meegan was now, a weapon set loose on the quadrant.

  One disaster at a time, she told herself.

  “It’s likely that in the next few minutes, we’re going to need to access all of our supplemental holographic personnel,” Glenn said. “I’d like you to coordinate with Velth, Benoit, and the Doctor from the bridge.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Barclay nodded curtly.

  “And Reg?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t worry. When all this is done, we’ll find Meegan.”

  He didn’t look like he believed her, but managed a faint smile nonetheless before moving to the rear interface beside tactical controls. From here he could easily access transport protocols.

  Raising her voice, Glenn said, “All right, folks. This isn’t a drill. Everybody take a deep breath, and stand ready.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Cambridge stared at the sleeping form of Seven of Nine. He knew that the feelings that accompanied this lovely vision were inappropriate to the doctor-patient relationship. He promised himself that he would bury them as soon as she awoke. In the meantime, however, a little fantasizing never hurt anyone.

  It had been a long time since Hugh had found a woman fascinating. He’d met many who were intelligent, attractive, and quite successful in their professional pursuits. He’d made it a habit of sharing his private time with those who were none of those things, but gifted in the only things that he required in a lover: discretion and disinterest in any long-term attachment. Frankly, he had long ago abandoned the notion that he would ever succumb to anyone’s charms. He’d lost something of himself in loving once before, and found the entire process of attempting to sustain a meaningful relationship messy in the extreme. He had concluded it was not worth the effort.

  And then he had met Seven.

  She had been resting comfortably for the last several hours and her medical scans confirmed that she was now out of danger. He did not doubt that the moment she awoke, she would be able to share more of her amazing communication with the Neyser. What he had observed of the connection between them had clearly touched Seven deeply, though it had come at too high a cost. Hugh was not anxious to see her push herself like that again, but he couldn’t decide if it was his personal or professional feelings talking.

  He reached for her forehead and gently brushed away a few loose strands of hair which had pu
lled free. He allowed himself to imagine what this gesture might feel like if she was awake. In the midst of this he realized that her eyes were open, and meeting his in wide consternation.

  “Counselor?”

  Hugh immediately dropped his hand back to his side and attempted to mask what he hoped she hadn’t read on his face.

  “How are you feeling, Seven?” he asked softly.

  Seven paused, reflecting on her physical status, and replied, “I am undamaged.”

  “That’s only because the Doctor is a brilliant physician,” Cambridge replied. “You were injured in your contact with the Neyser. It took an incredible toll on your body and we were all concerned that its effects might have caused permanent damage.”

  Seven sat up in a swift, fluid motion. “I did not intend to cause you alarm.”

  Hugh smiled, shaking his head. “That’s hardly the point.”

  “Have we located the weapons that were stolen from the Neyser colony?” Seven asked.

  “Not to my knowledge,” he replied. “But that’s not to say that the last several hours haven’t been exciting.”

  “Explain.”

  “It now appears that our illustrious Admiral Batiste was not human. He was apparently a member of Species 8472, genetically modified to pass as a human.”

  Seven’s eyes widened as he continued.

  “By overriding our control systems he brought Galen and Voyager to an area of Borg space filled with subspace instabilities and succeeded in opening a rift to fluidic space. After a tense but effective conversation between Species 8472 he was granted permission to return home. I observed the exchange from Galen’s bridge. After that, I excused myself to check on you.”

  Seven accepted this with her trademark stoicism. “If the crisis has passed, why are we at Red Alert?”

  “Apparently the Indign aren’t through with us,” Cambridge replied. “Last I heard, a few dozen ships were converging on our position. Unless I am much mistaken, in the next few minutes, they will engage Voyager and Hawking.”

  Seven pushed herself off the bed to stand before him.

  “I must return to Voyager.”

  “Why?”

  “They will require my assistance.”

  “Seven, you’ve done your job. Now it’s time to let everyone else do theirs.”

  “Conlon reports that all systems are nominal, as does Galen,” Paris noted as the Indign armada grew closer. “We could bring the slipstream online and make a run for it.”

  “Too dangerous,” Eden replied. “It’s unclear if we’ve purged all systems of Batiste’s sabotage.”

  “Your plan, Captain?” Chakotay asked.

  “We’ll start with diplomacy,” Eden went on. “They’ve made no aggressive actions toward us so far. They sent a representative to make contact, frustratingly one-sided though it may have been.”

  “And immediately following that they sent us a Trojan Horse,” Paris reminded her mirthlessly. Tom was still stunned by Chakotay’s report of Seven’s discoveries at the Neyser settlement and the idea that the “consciousness” had somehow been a weapon.

  “We’ve assessed their tactical capabilities,” Eden continued, unruffled, “and they don’t compare with ours. They’re not stupid. They know that, which is why they were willing to take the extreme measure of unleashing what they believe to be their most destructive weapon upon us.”

  “It’s likely that when ‘Meegan’ didn’t succeed in destroying us, they realized that the only other viable option was an all-out assault,” Chakotay observed. “One mosquito is a nuisance. A swarm of them is a legitimate problem.”

  “We’ll destroy them all if we have to,” Eden replied. “But I don’t want it to come to that.”

  Paris was comforted by her decisiveness.

  “Two minutes to intercept, Captain,” Kim advised.

  “Ensign Lasren, open a channel to the approaching vessels,” Eden ordered.

  “Channel open.”

  “Indign vessels, this is Captain Afsarah Eden of the Federation Starship Voyager. We have honored your request to depart your system. We have no intention of troubling you further. If there is something else you require of us, please advise us and we will do whatever we can to accommodate you. There is no need to resort to armed conflict. We bear you no ill will.”

  In response, the Indign began to break their approach formation and move to positions to surround Hawking and Voyager. For now, they seemed content to ignore Galen, whose position several hundred kilometers from her sister ship’s was precarious.

  “Indign vessels,” Eden began again, but was cut short by a crisp, monotone response.

  “Return what you have stolen,” the Indign demanded.

  Eden’s brow knitted itself into hard lines as she considered their demand.

  “That’s going to be a problem,” she observed. Once Chakotay had briefed her, Eden had realized that Willem must have aided Meegan both in her attack on the Neyser colony and her escape. Clearly, she had stolen what the Indign were now seeking to retrieve.

  “We would do so most willingly,” Eden replied. “The canisters that were stolen from your fourth planet have never been in our possession. The consciousness you sent to us took possession of a member of my crew, then destroyed your colony and collected the remaining canisters. She escaped before we were able to apprehend her. We do possess her last known coordinates and heading and would gladly join with you to capture and subdue her. If you scan our vessels you will be able to assess the veracity of my words.”

  After a brief pause during which Paris entertained the hope that the captian might have gotten through to them, the three vessels nearest Voyager unleashed a salvo of phaser fire, rattling the decks.

  “Shields are holding,” Kim advised. “Shall I return fire?”

  Tom threw a quick glance in Chakotay’s direction and was met with his former captain’s unperturbed eyes. He seemed more curious than concerned.

  Eden shook her head, rising from her chair and stepping toward the helm. “Evasive actions only,” she replied. “Indign vessels, this attack is unprovoked and unnecessary. Please disengage at once and let’s work together to solve what is now our collective problem.”

  Paris watched Chakotay nod slightly in approval at her choice of adjectives.

  After a moment, the three vessels that had opened fire adjusted their targeting solutions and fired as one at Voyager’s port nacelle. Gwyn immediately dropped the bow, offering only the mid-decks.

  “Shields at ninety percent,” Harry called out.

  “Damn it,” Eden hissed under her breath. “Ensign Lasren, are these ships unmanned drones or are there life-forms aboard?”

  Paris understood the captain’s reluctance. B’Elanna’s shuttle was able to disable the Indign ship. Voyager’s weapons— even on a lower setting—would easily destroy them.

  “I’m detecting hundreds of Indign cooperatives present,” Lasren replied. “Approximately seventy-five cooperatives per vessel.”

  With obvious regret the captain turned to Kim and said, “Target the lead vessel’s weapons and fire when ready.”

  A series of rapid, pinpoint bursts flew from Voyager’s phaser arrays, and multiple destructive explosions burst into bloom. The damaged vessel moved in ungainly fits and starts to clear as another cube dropped into its place.

  “Indign vessels,” Eden attempted again, but was cut off by an abrupt discharge from every cube in sight. The majority of their fire was concentrated upon Voyager, though the Hawking was also taking a beating.

  Shaking her head, Eden ordered, “Mister Kim, arm photon torpedoes and target the vessel directly ahead. We have to get clear of the net they’ve thrown up around us. Gwyn, advise Hawking’s helm to be ready to follow our lead.”

  “Aye, Captain,” Gwyn replied.

  “Lieutenant Kim?”

  “Making a hole, Captain,” Harry replied and fired.

  Seven had been willing to accept the notion that from Galen’
s sickbay there was little she could do to assist the fleet in this battle. She had immediately commandeered the nearest data interface and rerouted Galen’s visual display of the battle and the comm chatter that accompanied the conflict.

  Voyager and Hawking weaved and darted through the Indign vessels. Though they greatly outnumbered their Federation foes, clearly their prowess in battle was not on par with Voyager’s . Their responses were too slow and their ships, once damaged, did not recover quickly. Twice as Seven watched, Galen was able to dash quickly through their lines and maneuver swiftly past Voyager and Hawking, no doubt retrieving overflow wounded who were, even now, being treated by the Doctor and his staff in the triage area.

  The advantage of the Indign numbers, however, could not be denied.

  Part of her analyzed the battle, regularly revising her estimations of the potential for success. A calm, clear space in her mind fretted over the single communication that had originated from the Indign: Return what you have stolen.

  The Neyser Seven had contacted was panicked that the essences contained in the canisters could be unleashed. It was further pained at having failed to protect the remaining canisters from Meegan’s attack. The canisters contained the highly destructive engrammatic essences of Neyser who were deemed incapable of existing in civilized society. Seven thought back to their first communication with “Meegan.” She was inclined to dismiss her story as a tale spun to placate the fleet’s crew and buy herself the time required to make her escape.

  One persistent memory of the meeting troubled her.

  The Borg are our betters in every way. We hope one day to be worthy of their attention. Until then, we will strive to emulate and please them in all that we do.

  It was possible that this statement in no way reflected the beliefs of the Indign, but the structure of Indign society. Their obvious, deliberate choice to refrain from communicating with other sentient life-forms suggested that “Meegan” was probably speaking a version of the truth. They had broken their silence only to secure the return of a weapon they could not re-create.