The Best of Both Worlds: Chapter Five

Chapter Five

First Officer's Log, supplemental.  Our pursuit of the Borg continues at high warp on a course that will take us to the very core of the Federation.  The devastation they could bring is beyond imagination.

Worf had made the adjustments to the phasers himself, trusting none of his security personnel to make them.  The cost of failure was too high.  Despite wearing the uniform of Starfleet, Worf was at heart a Klingon warrior, and he lived according to that code.  Duty.  Honour.  An oath sworn to protect his captain.  An oath he had failed to fulfil.  It gnawed at him, eating him from the inside, and he could not rest until he had made right.  Until he had found his captain and returned him safely to the Enterprise.

And so, he had made the alterations to the phasers, changing them to fire at the same frequency to which the Borg were vulnerable.  It hadn't just been making sure that the job was done properly.  He knew his team, trusted their skills.  He'd placed his life in their hands countless times.  But this was different.  This was Worf's obligation to Picard.  It was because of him that Picard was lost, and thus it must be because of him that Picard was returned.  Yes, Worf had lost people before.  Tasha Yar, Marla Aster.  But Picard was different.  He was, in Worf's opinion, was the most honourable man he had ever known, and Worf had sworn to himself long ago that the safety of the captain was ultimately his responsibility.  Picard had earned that respect.  He'd had stood beside Worf, his cha'DIch, before the Klingon High Council.  He'd been the voice of reason in his mind, who had taught a rash young warrior more about fighting intelligently then he ever thought he could learn.

He could remember the first time he'd realised Picard was an excellent tactician.  It had been during their very first mission, when threatened by Q.  Picard ordered the ship to separate and assigned Worf command of the saucer section.  Worf had, of course been shocked and tried to refuse.  But thinking back on it, Worf had realised what Picard was doing.  If Q was indeed after the Enterprise, then yes, he would get the stardrive section, yes, he would capture or kill the skeleton crew, but the vast majority of the people on board would live.  Q would have failed to destroy them.  And by assigning Worf to command the saucer, Picard had ensured that Worf would be the one to accomplish what Q wanted least, denying him of the prize he wanted.

So, from that moment, Worf studied Picard, learned all he could.  And learn he did.  He was now fully in awe of Picard's ability and skill.  When Picard defeated the Sheliak with their own weapon of endless bureaucracy, Worf had almost failed to contain his own laughter.  Picard was the one who taught him that as powerful and dangerous as his own body was, his mind could be a far greater weapon.

And now, with Picard kidnapped by the Borg, Worf put this skill into practice.  They'd discovered a vulnerability, and he intended to exploit it.  He'd fight with his mind, and he'd fulfil his duty.

He passed out the modified phasers to the away team as soon as he entered the transporter room.  "These phasers have been retuned," he explained.  "Each has a different frequency spanning the upper EM band."  And none of them had the same frequency as the deflector weapon.  No point in giving the Borg a chance to begin adapting.

Shelby nodded appreciatively as she took the phaser.  "Alright," she said, "a reminder.  We only get to use each of these once, maybe twice, before the Borg learn to adapt.  Don't fire until you have to."

"What kind of resistance can we expect?" asked Beverly

Shelby looked at her.  She'd been against the doctor's presence on the away team; she had no tactical training, no experience in combat situations, and her skill with a phaser was below par.  And she hadn't been on the Enterprise when it been flung into system J-25 either.  But, she was the best doctor on the Enterprise, and there was no telling what condition Picard would be in when they found him.  Given the Borg's ability to tie mechanical devices into biological tissue, it seemed likely that whatever method of torture the Borg were using on Picard would leave him in a critical condition.  A doctor would be necessary.  But still, Shelby disliked having her there.  Once they found Picard, the away team would have to protect both the captain and Doctor Crusher.  In her view, it made them too vulnerable.  Still, Riker had been insistent.  The doctor goes with you.

"At our last encounter, the Borg virtually ignored us when we beamed aboard their vessel," said Data.  "They clearly did not consider our being there a threat."

"That may change, however, if we start interfering with their plans," said Shelby.  She led them up onto the transporter platform.  "Shelby to bridge.  Away team ready."

Riker's voice came over the com.  "We've got fifty eight minutes before we have to power down and disengage."

Shelby nodded, even though Riker couldn't see her.  "Understood."

"Proceed," said Riker.  "And Commander, no unnecessary risks.  If it becomes clear that you can't succeed, I want you back here alive.  I don't want any dead heroes.  Clear?"

"Very clear," said Shelby.  "Shelby out."  She looked at O'Brien.

"We've matched warp velocity for transport, Commander," he said.  There was a hint of tightness in his voice.

Shelby didn't let it bother her.  "Energise," she said quickly.

O'Brien's hands tapped the panel in front of him, and then the shimmering blue curtain of the transporter surrounded her.

***

The away team materialised into darkness.  Instantly, Worf's phaser was in his hand.  Data lifted his tricorder.  Around them were dim lights, blinking, moving.  Harsh metallic sounds were muffled by distance, the whirring of machinery, the dull thud of drones walking on metal grates.  The air smelled of chemicals, oily and scrubbed, with the thick heaviness of humidity and heat.

They stood there for a moment, but the drones merely stepped around them, ignoring them.  Worf lowered his phaser and lifted his own tricorder.  "Tricorder functions minimal," he reported.

"Any signs of human life?"

Worf shook his head.  "Inconclusive."  He felt the urge to crush the tricorder in his hand, but he pushed it back.  Now was not the time to let his emotions control him.  He tried to adjust the tricorder.

Beverly stepped forward from the away team, looking at the conduits that snaked across the walls and ceiling.  "Look at this, this is extraordinary."

Data stepped forwards.  The conduits snaked into the base of a small pyramid shaped structure that sat on the wall.  It was lit from within, the light flickering and wavering.  "These appear to be some kind of power waveguide conduits," he observed.  "They may allow the Borg to work collectively as they perform ship functions."

Shelby stepped forwards.  This could be something they could exploit.  A vital part of the Borg system, just sitting here on the wall?  She checked her tricorder.  No signs of a forcefield or any other protection.  But then she realised that the small size meant that there were likely to be millions of them scattered throughout the Cube.  And, looking along the corridor they were in, she could see at least a dozen more of them.  "There's no way to take out enough of these to slow them down," she said.

Data nodded.  "The decentralised power system makes it virtually impossible."

Shelby sighed and led the away team away, but then Crusher spoke thoughtfully.  "What about looking at it from the mosquito's point of view?"

Shelby turned back.

"An interesting metaphor, Doctor," Data said.  "What is your idea?"

Beverly turned to him and smiled.  "If we sting them in a tender spot, they might stop for a minute to scratch."

Shelby looked at her, impressed.  Not a bad plan.

They moved into the next corridor.  Like the first, regeneration alcoves stretched away along the walls.  But the conduits along the ceiling were denser here, collecting together and heading in the same direction.  As they turned a corner, they saw an intersection, with a large number of glowing pyramids hanging from the ceiling.  They looked similar to the power waveguide conduits, but these were larger and glowed more brightly.  Shelby lifted her tricorder.  Just like before, no forcefields.

"Distribution nodes," said Data.

Shelby nodded.  "If we take out a few of these, it just might make them scratch."

She lifted her phaser and was about to fire at the node when Worf's tricorder beeped.  He'd managed to improve its function, and now, despite a still limited range, it had detected something.  "The captain's communicator!" Worf said.  "It is still activated!"

Beverly tapped her combadge immediately.  "Crusher to Picard, can you hear me?"

The away team waited in silence, but there was no response.

"Can you locate it, Worf?" asked Shelby.

Worf checked, turned.  The single was slightly stronger off to his left.  "This way."  He led them off into the Cube.

***

The away team had been over on the Cube for half an hour now, and Riker was getting restless.  What was keeping them?  They'd maintained the necessary contact, reported everything.  But they'd detected Picard's combadge more than five minutes ago, and they still hadn't found it.  What was keeping them?  Damn!  He should have gone.  Maybe he couldn't find the captain any faster, but at least he would be doing something.  Better than sitting and waiting.

So engrossed in his own anxieties was Riker that he didn't hear the soft tone of the incoming transmission the first time.  When he did hear it, he leaped behind the desk and tapped the key on the terminal.  Admiral Hanson appeared on the screen.

"Commander Riker, how are your weapon preparations?"

"Almost ready," said Riker.  "We're not going to let the Borg get away."

"Good to hear," said Hanson.  He took a deep breath.  "Are the Borg still on course for Earth?"

Riker nodded.

"Understood.  I've managed to get twenty three ships launched from the Earth drydocks and Utopia Planetia.  They'll be meeting with another group from the Third Fleet on maneuvers in the Vulcan system.  They'll rendezvous and make their way towards your position.  I've also managed to scare up a half dozen more ships that will join them along the way."

Riker stared for a moment.   "That would leave Earth with no heavily armed vessels within at least two light years."

Hanson nodded.  "Whether at Earth or somewhere else, it's not going to make any difference.  And I doubt that the crews of those ships want to wait around in the Sol System for the Borg to come to them."

"I strongly recommend redeploying all available defenses to protect sector zero-zero-one, Admiral…"

Hanson cut him off with a shake of his head.  "We're moving to intercept at Wolf three five nine.  We'll make our stand there."  The tone of his voice was final.  The discussion was over, and Riker sighed inwardly.  Damn Hanson could be stubborn!  "How much longer can you maintain pursuit?"

"Twenty two minutes if they stay at their current speed," Riker answered him.  "If we can't bring them out of warp, we'll do as much damage as we can before we have to disengage."

Hanson nodded, but the expression on his face was grim.  "Picard?"

Riker lowered his eyes.  "Nothing yet, sir."

***

There was barely twenty minutes before they would have to return to the Enterprise.  The heat of the Cube was beginning to show its effects.  Beverly lifted her hand to wipe perspiration away from her eyes, but her palm was already slick with sweat.  She wiped her hands on her uniform in an effort to dry them, but it didn't work.  The heat and humidity were just too much.  She had a sticky, grimy feeling all over, like a mixture of her own sweat and industrial lubricant.  And the intermittent strobing lights on the Cube were giving her a headache.  She hoped the others were faring better.  Data, of course, nothing would bother him.  And even if it did, he'd compensate and ignore it.  Worf would ignore it anyway.  She'd once seen him in sickbay after he'd broken a leg on an away team and marched more than two kilometers on it back to the beam out point.  And as for Shelby, well, her determination could lead her to ignore discomfort, but it could build up inside her before breaking out.  Beverly hoped they found Picard soon.

Worf vanished around a corner, then came back.  "In here," he reported, then vanished again.  The away team quickly followed him.

The chamber that they entered was almost like a morgue.  There were a series of long hatches in the wall, all closed.  Worf walked along them, holding his tricorder.  Its beeping became louder and faster, until at one of the hatches it became a solid tone.  He folded his tricorder and put it back into its holster, then dug his fingers into the maze of tubing on the hatch.  He pulled, grunting with the effort, but the hatch refused to move.  He stepped back, allowing Data to come forwards.

Data grabbed the hatch and pulled, and even though it looked like he was barely trying, the android was using a strength that could bend durasteel.  The hatch slowly slid open.

The away team leaned in to look into the compartment that lay behind the hatch.  It was fairly shallow, going back less than a meter, but wide enough for an adult Human to lie down inside.  For a moment, Beverly expected to see the unconscious form of Jean-Luc Picard to be there, laying insensate on the cold metal slab, but the captain wasn't there.

His uniform, however, was.

It was as though the uniform had been torn off him, the clothes were ripped, but the combadge still sat fastened securely to the breast.  She was aware of Shelby speaking, telling the bridge what they had found.  She could hear the shock and the despair in Riker's voice as he answered Shelby.

And then Shelby was telling Riker that they were resuming the search for Picard, and Beverly wanted to laugh.  Resume the search?  They'd lost their only trail!  How could they continue the search now?  Where would they look?  She realised that she would never see Jean-Luc Picard again.

She remembered that horrible day long ago, after the Stargazer had returned to Earth with Jack's body, and Jean-Luc had gone with Beverly to identify his remains.  She remembered the sterile hallways, the cold room with only a single biobed standing in the middle, the shape underneath the cover, and then how it had been Jack's face, even though Jack wasn't really there anymore, was he?  She remembered how Picard had held her hand as she tried to keep her emotions in check, how he put his arm around her shoulders and supported her when she burst into tears, and how he had stroked her and kissed her hair as she screamed abuse at him for not saving her husband.

Was it easier this way, knowing for sure that your loved one was really gone, really dead?

Honestly, she didn't know.  For months afterwards, she'd had nightmares about Jack's eyes, staring at her from under his closed eyelids, dreaming of the things that he saw as he was dying.  What did his eyes see as his life left him?

But now they were going to return to the Enterprise weren't they?  They'd get the Borg ship to drop out of warp, and then they'd go, and they'd fire the deflector, and destroy this horrible place, but Picard would still be here, and what would he see?  Would he see the walls of fire coming for him?  Would he feel the blast of heat?  Would he feel the shockwave hit him and tear him apart?

Yes, it was easier.  Much better to know for sure, because no matter what horrors lay in store for Picard, whatever Beverly's imagination could conjure was so much worse.

***

If Riker had known, he would have thought Shelby's report would have filled him with dread, but it didn't.  Instead, it gave him a sense of finality.  They'd lost Picard.  Even if he was still alive somewhere over there, the away team would never be able to find him in time.  They had barely a quarter of an hour before the Enterprise would be forced to drop out of warp, and the away team still had to get the Cube to impulse.  If the captain was lost, then that was what they needed to do.  And if the captain was not lost, if there was somehow a chance, they still wouldn't be able to take it, because doing so would rob them of their chance to destroy the Cube.  And saving the captain just wasn't worth it.

There was the hiss of doors behind him, and Riker turned to see La Forge and Wesley hurrying down the ramp.  "Stand by, Commander," he said to Shelby over the com.

"We're in business," Wesley said to Riker.

La Forge nodded in agreement.  "It'll burn out the main deflector," he said, "but it'll be one hell of a bang."

"Radiation danger?"

"We'll need to evacuate the entire forward half of the secondary hull and the lower three decks of the saucer," said Wesley.

"I'll see to that," Deanna said, and then she was hurrying back to the turbolift.

Riker lifted his head and spoke to the away team.  "Commander Shelby, we only have seventeen minutes of warp power left.  Do whatever you can to get them out of warp."

***

Shelby listened to Riker's order, reading the message under the surface.  They'd given up on the idea of a rescue.  Their need to attack the Borg was now overriding their need to find the captain.  Shelby felt a moment of grief.  They'd lost Picard.

Still, she had a job to do.  No time now for grief.  Time enough for that later.  She took a deep breath, sucking in the chemical tinged air of the Cube.  "Acknowledged," she said.  "Shelby out."

She could feel the eyes of the rest of the away team on her.  Data looking at her with an almost curious expression.  Crusher in her disbelief.  And Worf, furious.  She wished she could give them the time they needed to deal with this.  They had been so close, but their chance to rescue Picard had been snatched away, pulled from their hands just as they were about to take it for themselves.  But, the mission wasn't over, and they had another task to perform.  Deal with the emotion later, concentrate on the job now.  "Let's take out some of these distribution nodes and see what happens."  She looked around at them, but they were still just looking at her.  "Get ready," she said, but she tried to keep the hardness out of her voice.  "This may rile up our friends."

She nodded to Data, who stepped forwards. There was a power waveguide conduit sitting on the wall.  Data raised his phaser and fired.

The beam splashed against the outside of the conduit box, but there was no disruption in its activities.  Data looked at Worf, and then they both fired together.  For a brief moment, the distribution node withstood the twin beams, but then they broke through and the pyramid exploded from within.

There were sudden sounds, of capacitors charging, gears whirring, servos spinning.  Dull heavy footsteps and mechanical clangs.  The Borg were stirring, emerging from their regeneration alcoves.

And, one by one, they all turned and began converging on the away team.

Shelby's hand slapped her combadge.  "Enterprise, are they dropping to impulse?"

"Negative, Commander," said Riker.

"Damn," muttered Shelby.

The away team was forced back by the advancing drones.  They couldn't afford to start firing on the drones themselves, not yet.  If they did before the Borg had dropped out of warp, then they could adapt and they'd never be able to destroy enough distribution nodes to force the Cube to impulse.  As they retreated past a side corridor, Shelby noticed a pair of distribution nodes hanging from the ceiling.  "There!" she said.

Data and Worf lifted their phasers again.  And then a second time.  And then, as the second distribution node erupted in sparks, the lights dimmed for a moment as power was lost throughout the entire section of the Cube.

***

Wesley noticed it first, the conn sounding a soft alarm designed to warn of a nearby vessel that was changing some aspect of its flight path.  "Sir, they've done it!" he called.  "The Borg ship is dropping out of warp!"

Riker leapt out of his chair.  "Go to impulse," he said.  "Inform the away team."

And even as Riker moved to the back of the bridge, La Forge was preparing their weapon.  "Diverting warp energy to main deflector."

"Move us to within forty thousand kilometers, match velocity," Riker ordered.  "Tactical, commence arming sequence.  Increase deflector modulation to upper frequency band."

***

The Borg advanced relentlessly, and the away team was forced backwards.  Another corridor cut across this one at right angles, and looking down it, Shelby could see more drones approaching.  And now from behind them too.

Surrounded.  But now that the Cube had dropped to impulse, the away team could fire their weapons at the drones themselves.  Shelby hoped they could hold them off for the few minutes it would take the Enterprise to get back into transporter range.

"Ready phasers," said Shelby.

The Borg kept coming.

"Fire."

The phaser beams lashed out in all four directions.  And four drones fell, sparks erupting from them as cybernetic implants shorted out where the phaser beams hit them.

The drones behind them stepped over the bodies and kept coming.

Shelby's hand hit her combadge.  "Enterprise, encountering resistance!  Prepare to beam us back on my signal!"

The lights suddenly dimmed again, then blinked out altogether.  The only illumination was from the flickering of the destroyed distribution nodes.

Shelby fired.  A hit.

Worf fired.  Another hit.

Crusher fired, and a third drone fell.

Data fired, claiming a fourth.

More drones, directly behind them, clambering over the bodies of the fallen, advancing.  They kept coming.

More shots fired.  The phaser beams added to the heat of the Cube, and the sweat flowed freely down their faces.

The Borg fell.

More drones, they kept coming.

And now, when the phasers lashed out, the drones did not fall.  There was the ringing of a deep bell, and a green glow surrounded each drone.  The drones did not fall, and they kept coming.

"They've adapted," said Shelby, her voice hollow, despairing.  Their time was up.  She was about to call for transport when she heard Doctor Crusher:

"Jean-Luc! "

And then Worf was calling for the captain, and Shelby turned to see him sprinting down the corridor, towards the advancing Borg.  One of them raised its prosthesis, but Worf ducked and rolled underneath it, and kept running.

And then Shelby saw – at the far end of the corridor, a figure standing, silhouetted against the light.  But even from this far away, she recognised that profile.  It was Captain Picard!

But then, as though only now noticing Worf barrelling down the corridor towards him, Picard turned and stepped towards them.  And as he moved into the light, Shelby saw the gleaming black metal of Borg implants covering his face, the ashen colour of his flesh, and the dark lines of blood vessels snaking under his skin.

Beverly was screaming, but Worf ignored her; he leapt for Picard, but a forcefield burst into life and threw him backwards, and he landed heavily, face first on the rough metal grating of the Cube's floor.

Shelby slapped at her combadge.  "Enterprise, get us out of here!"

She saw the nearest Borg reaching out to her with a mechanical hand covered in twitching sharp things, but then the transporter lifted her away, and she was gone.

***

Beverly was sobbing when they materialised on the transporter pad.  She collapsed to the floor.  Shelby put her arms around her, lifting her up and holding her.  Beverly lifted her head, as if surprised that Shelby had such tenderness in her.

"I'm sorry," Shelby whispered into Beverly's hair.  "I'm so sorry."

Beverly nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.  She saw Worf and Data standing there.

"I believe we should report to the bridge," said Data.

Beverly nodded, and the four of them walked off the transporter pad, defeated.

***

Riker looked up as the away team walked out of the turbolift.  They looked like hell; Shelby looking pale and still breathing hard, Worf glistening with sweat and violet blood dripping freely from the side of his face, Beverly streaked with grime and her eyes red – had she been crying?  Only Data looked anywhere near to his normal self.  But there was no time to dwell on their state.  They were well enough to make it onto the bridge, and that would have to be enough for now.  There were more important matters at hand.  "The Captain?"

"We were unable to retrieve him," reported Data.  "The Captain has been altered by the Borg."

It took a moment for it to sink in.  "Altered?"

"He is a Borg!" Worf snarled.

Riker's eyes grew wide with shock.

Shelby quickly stepped forwards.  "We'll go back," she said rapidly.  "I need more people and we need to retune the phasers."  Her eyes locked with Riker's.  "We can get him out of there."

But then Geordi spoke from the engineering console next to them.  "Commander, reading subspace field fluctuations from within the Borg ship.  Looks like they're regenerating, restoring power."  He looked at Riker, his eyes grim.  "They could be capable of warp any minute."

Damn!  Riker needed time to think, and time was the one thing they didn't have!  They had seconds at most before the Borg would be able to escape, and there was no way the Enterprise would be able to follow.  It would take them at least ten minutes to reroute power back to the warp nacelles, and by that time the Cube would be long gone.  They had no time, they had no option.  They had no other chances.  If they didn't use the deflector weapon now, they never would.

Riker turned to la Forge.  "Is the deflector ready?"

Geordi's eye met his.  "Ready sir," he said.  His voice was little more than a whisper.

Beverly spoke now.  "Will," she pleaded.  "He's alive.  If we get him back, I might be able to restore…"  Her voice trailed off.  Riker could hear in her voice that she was close to tears.

Riker shook his head.  "This is our only chance to destroy them," he said.  "If they get back into warp, our weapon is useless."  

"We'll go back," said Shelby.  "Sabotage them again if we have to!"

"We can't maintain pursuit!" snapped Riker.  He turned back to La Forge.  "Prepare to fire."

Shelby looked like she was about to scream.  "At least consult with Starfleet!"  She turned to Worf.  "Get Admiral Hanson on subspace…"

"Belay that order, Lieutenant!" said Riker.  "There's no time!"

But he wished there was.  Damn it!  Why couldn't they have more time?  Goddammit, even just a few minutes!  Enough time to send another away team, disable the Borg some more, disrupt their repair efforts, or hell, even talk to Admiral Hanson, and let him make the hard decisions!  He'd told Deanna that he'd always thought he was ready for command, to face these moments, but now that it was happening in the here-and-now, he wasn't so sure.  He'd often imagined how difficult it would be to be in command of a starship and giving the orders that would send crew members to their deaths.  He had been in the simulations.  There had even been real life scenarios when he was a cadet, and even though Riker hadn't known that they were exercises, hadn't he had the suspicion that it wasn't real?  After all, who would put a cadet into a situation where they'd be forced to take command of other people?

But now, it was undeniably real.  There were lives in the balance.  In the next few minutes, people would live or die, depending on whether he made the right choice or not.  If he ordered the crew to fire, then they would be killing Picard.  If he didn't give the order, then would the Borg leave, or would they attack the Enterprise first?  And even if they did fire the deflector weapon, the Borg would still have a chance to fire back, wouldn't they?  How long would it take to destroy them?  A few seconds?  A minute?  Longer?  How long could the Enterprise keep up that kind of power output with the Cube assaulting them?

There was a soft tone.  "Sir, we are being hailed by the Borg," said Worf.

Riker looked at him.  "On screen," he said after a moment.

On the screen, Picard stood, but it was not Picard.  It was what the Borg had turned Picard into, a twisted, nightmarish vision of a man who had been mentor, father-figure, friend.  And then the Picard/Borg stepped forward, and it spoke:

"I am Locutus of Borg.  Resistance is futile.  Your life as it has been is over.  From this time forward, you will service us."

Riker's heart broke.  He tried to tell himself that this person, this Borg, this thing before him wasn't Picard, but he knew that it was.  He tried to tell himself that Picard was already dead, that the Borg were just using his body as a macabre puppet, but he knew Picard was still alive inside this tortured automaton.  And he knew that if he gave the order to fire their weapon, it would mean the death of one of his closest friends, the man who had guided him from the moment he had first come aboard the Enterprise, who had taught him everything he knew about being a leader of people.  For a long moment, he could say nothing, and he forced himself to push his emotions down.

And finally, after the long moment had passed, Riker spoke, aware that every person on the bridge was turning to him, depending on him to guide them, give them their orders.

And his order was…

"Mister Worf…  Fire."