Shadows of the Night, Part IX

The Doctor looked over the readings, trying to find the alien that had come aboard Voyager during this fragile time. The entire crew, except for him and Seven, were in stasis, and couldn't be removed until they'd cleared the nebula. "He must have a cloaking device," he said. "Sensors show no alien life signs and no evidence of a ship." He shook his head. "I've been working on my mobile emitter. I think I'm making progress, but I still can't leave Sickbay. You'll have to try to track him down. Arm yourself and use extreme caution."

The computer spoke; it was garbled and slow. "Warning. Deuterium tank levels are fluctuating beyond acceptable tolerances."

"The computer sounds like it needs a stimulant," the Doctor said dryly, looking things over.

"It has been experiencing relay failures," Seven said. "I have not been performing my maintenance duties." She'd been responsible for running the entire ship for the past three weeks; the alien intruder wasn't helping make her job any easier.

"Do what you have to," the Doctor said, "but keep an eye out for the alien. We have to assume he's up to no good." Seven nodded and went to leave Sickbay. "Seven... are you frightened?"

Seven looked back at him. "I am Borg," she said, and stepped into the hall to get to work.

"Trajis to Seven of Nine," came the alien's voice over the comm system. "That's an unusual name. How did you get it?" Seven ignored him as he continued trying to bait her; he didn't seem to like it. "Just to prove I'm willing to give you a fair chance, I'll ask you: what would happen if the structural integrity around the warp coils collapsed? You wouldn't have much time to keep them from rupturing." Seven broke into a run and rushed into Engineering. Fortunately nothing was wrong, but there was also no sign of Trajis.

The lights went out. "I couldn't bring myself to destroy your ship," Trajis said. He chuckled a little as Seven walked nervously through Engineering. She looked around carefully at the shadows, her imagination populating them with unpleasant things. She put her hand on her phaser, even though she knew there was nothing there. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark." Seven took a steadying breath, feeling as if the darkness was closing in on her...

Borui entered information into the PADD. "I read about that in your file," she said to Seven. "You ensured Voyager passed through the nebula safely, without any of the crew being killed by the radiation. Captain Janeway submitted it to Starfleet when the question of your commission came up; she said it showed you were capable of great courage and reliability in even the worst situations."

"I... appreciate the captain's remarks," Seven said. "But the truth was that I lied to the Doctor. I was... I was, in fact, very afraid."

"Understandable," Borui said. "Long-term isolation is very difficult to cope with, and when the Doctor went off-line, you were left absolutely alone, with the responsibility of safeguarding the lives of everyone. That's a very heavy burden, but you carried it well." Seven nodded nervously. "How do you feel now, with the Borg becoming more active?"

"I am... I am also afraid," Seven said. "It has been five years since I was freed from the Collective, and in that time I have found many aspects of individuality that are appealing. I fear losing them." The alarm sounded, and Seven seemed almost relieved. "Excuse me," she said, "I have duties." She got up and walked double-time out of the room. Borui took a moment to tap a few more things onto the PADD, shaking her head. Maybe Riker was right, she thought. Maybe those implants did more to her than she'd thought.

The ships were oblivious to his presence, as always. He watched, his curiosity getting the better of him. He'd learned only a little about them so far: they were called the Federation, and their ships were piloted by various groups of alien species. Their technology was above the galactic norm, but still primitive compared to his level. And for some reason they'd decided they were going to fight the Borg. What a strange idea, he thought, as he watched the ships race away, their hulls broken and equipment shattered with the massive cubes in pursuit. Either these Federation types were very dumb, very stubborn, or just plain insane.

Still, that wasn't really his concern, interesting though the Federation was. No, his concern was the Borg. They were on the move once again, and this time they weren't holding back. It was awe-inspiring, like watching an inexplicable act of nature, like the collision of two stars. He smiled a little at the thought; he hadn't seen a stellar collision in at least a thousand years. He observed a few recordings as his mind drifted back, but it wasn't the same. Seeing that the battle was over, he checked a few maps. The real thing was always a lot more fun to see.

Col. Delric Taar stepped into the office of Grand Admiral Thrawn as he had so many times previously. Despite this repetition, it was something that never grew routine for him. The Admiral was many things, but the most central of all was unpredictability. "You have finished your report?" Thrawn asked, his attention not deviating from a sculpture recreated before him. It was a pitch black rendition of a slightly elongated face, with a curling beard and some kind of object coming off its head.

"Wood?" Taar asked.

"Bronze," Thrawn replied. "Specially treated by the artisan to produce this shade. It's a hallmark example of artwork from the Benin Empire on Earth." Thrawn turned his chair towards Taar. "Their cultural influence is relatively non-existent, but the beauty of the work is timeless. What's the condition of the Borg?"

Taar glanced at the notes on his datapad. "Three attacks on our borders, sir, all repelled with limited casualties on our side. There are six more worlds which request our protection; Admiral Nemit is looking at their relative merit."

"What of other attacks?"

"Our scouts report Borg attacks on at least twenty-seven worlds over the past two months, all successful. Several of them are Federation colonies: New Stockholm, Star's End, Yarval... Isn't Yarval the site of the Federation research base?"

"Yes, I believe our spies said they were working on a way of producing hypermatter reactors."

Taar seemed quite surprised. "That can be a serious setback. If they had a working prototype-"

"Colonel," Thrawn said with patience, "we will plan accordingly."

"But-" Taar floundered. "The Borg with-"

"The important thing to remember," Thrawn said patiently, "is the difference between worry and planning; the former is nothing, the latter everything."

Taar nodded. "Of course sir. Getting back to the attacks: we haven't noticed a particular expansion pattern sir, but we do think they are looking to increase their resources and personnel." Through assimilation, Taar thought with disgust.

"That's in keeping with their current activities," Thrawn remarked. "They'll certainly need it for this campaign of theirs."

Taar agreed, although he wished he didn't have to. The Borg's attacks had certainly left him ill at ease for quite some time. "Sir, why do you suppose they've changed?"

Thrawn smiled at Taar a little. "Don't you know?" Taar admitted that he couldn't understand it. "The Borg believe in efficiency first and foremost," Thrawn said. "That much is apparent from their ship design. Interdependency and independence simultaneously to have the best of both. Until now they've been approaching their tasks with a minimal number of resources to maintain efficiency, and that has been adequate. However, for some time now such efforts have failed, and they've been losing large amounts of equipment and personnel; very inefficient. So they've reversed their strategies: they're attacking in large numbers to avoid the loss of ships and manpower that's plagued them. Unfortunately for us, that strategy seems to be working rather well."

"But they haven't invaded our space," Taar pointed out.

Thrawn's smile grew a little larger. "War is more than force of arms."

Yes, Taar thought, that was the advantage of the Empire: strength, determination, and the most advanced tactical minds in the galaxy. Let the Borg come... it'll be a futile gesture.

Capt. Janeway walked slowly into the brig where a single forcefield remained active. It hadn't been used very often, but it always brought up unpleasant memories. Many hostile aliens and rebellious crew members had been sent here over the years, and once again she'd brought herself here to iron out a situation. "Leave us," she ordered the guard.

"Captain," the Doctor said through the force field as she sat down. "I'd like to apologize for my earlier tone. I was overwhelmed with shock at the situation-"

"Your tone was understandable, if inappropriate," Janeway interrupted. "I had forgotten that, despite your sentience, you are at heart a program created for the sole purpose of preserving life, and this news had no doubt been difficult to come to terms with."

"That's putting it mildly," the Doctor replied. "I'm reminded of the time my ethical program was deleted; that was a bit difficult for my program to adapt to when it was re-installed."

Janeway nodded. "You backed up several key systems in Seven's memory engrams if I recall correctly." Her smile faded. "It's funny that you should bring up the Equinox. My thoughts dwell on Ransom from time to time."

The Doctor took on a tone of sympathy. "There was nothing you could've done to save him."

"It's not that," Janeway replied, "It's his decisions. He became desperate, he resorted to mass murder to try to get his crew home. I looked down on him because of that, but I've come to realize the truth: I'm just like him."

"Captain," the Doctor insisted. "You were nothing like him. You always knew where the line was, and never crossed it."

"I made two severe mistakes," Janeway continued. "And they both involved the Empire."

"Captain, you can't blame yourself for the war. None of us had any way of knowing the Empire was as evil as it was."

"And yet billions are still dead," she replied. "Cardassia Prime is gone. A war that tore the quadrant apart because of my decision."

"And because of that decision," the Doctor said, "Humanity is exploring the galaxy like never before imagined."

"At what cost," she said miserably. "I have a feeling... I can't explain it. But something terrible is about to happen, and it's because of that choice, my foolish behavior in dealing with the Empire. I feel as if there's something I should be doing," she shook her head. "But for the life of me, I can't figure out what it is." She looked away, hand fidgeting about her face as it often did in these situations. "Ransom performed acts of evil for the sake of his crew..." She shook her head. "Down deep, Doctor, in places I hate to admit are there, I know I'd do the same... God help me, but... I wouldn't stop where he did. Five years in the delta quadrant, watching people I was supposed to protect die one after another... then watching my home torn apart by a war I caused... it changes you... I know it's changed me. I- When I look at the person staring back in my mirror..." She shook her head, and her voice descended into a whisper. "She scares the hell out of me."

"Captain," the Doctor said as comfortingly as he could, "we all have our emotional limits. It's not something we'd like to admit, but... but it doesn't make us evil. It just makes us the flawed mortals that we are." Janeway didn't answer, but there was a quiver to her breathing, as if she was already at those limits... as if she'd already passed them and was stranded in a place where no comfort could be found. "Captain?" he said quietly.

Janeway looked down and wrung her hands. "Doctor," she said, her voice pained, "I lied to you earlier. I know how the Borg found out about the nanoprobes." She hesitated. "I gave the knowledge to the Empire." She was quiet, to allow the thought to properly percolate. "I felt responsible for bringing the Borg to their galaxy," she continued. "So I gave them everything we had on the Borg, no matter how trivial. I hoped it would be enough to ensure a victory in the event of a Borg attack." She closed her eyes in shame. "I should've realized that if they were captured, the Borg would assimilate that knowledge."

She stood up and pushed the button next to the entrance, shutting down the forcefield. She opened her mouth to continue when the claxon blared. "Red alert! Captain Janeway to the bridge," the comm called over the din.

"Looks like we'll have to continue this later," the Doctor remarked as they left for the bridge. Regardless of the past, the present was demanding their immediate attention.

Seven was in Science Room 1. When she looked back, there was something somehow appropriate about that, that it was this room of all places when he walked through the door. "Luke?" she said, stunned at his presence.

"Hey, Seven," he said. "Glad to see you still remember me."

"I have an eidetic memory; I remember everyone." Inside she slapped herself. "However, even without it, I would certainly recall you. You were a most memorable individual."

"Thanks, I think," he said with a smile.

Seven was uncertain of what to do; she would have expected an appearance by Q before seeing Skywalker again. "I was not informed of your arrival. Is this a Republic matter?"

"It's a Borg matter," Luke said. He filled her in on some details of the battle. "Do you know anything about a class-19 Theta torpedo?"

Seven was even more surprised. "Where did you hear about that?"

Luke seemed to flounder a bit. "It's a little complicated. I do know that it destroyed a Borg ship."

"Yes, a class-19 is capable of destroying any Borg ship up to the size of a Sphere, but there hasn't been one fired in millennia."

"What is it? What's it do?" Seven began explaining; after half a minute Luke stopped her. "Perhaps I should rephrase. Who would have such a device besides the Borg?"

"The Borg do not have it," Seven stated. "They were never able to properly duplicate the construction. As for who has it, I can't say."

Luke seemed to think it over. "Any idea of what might have happened?"

"Based on your description," Seven replied, "I would surmise that the ship was destroyed by a cloaked vessel."

"Except that your cloaking devices inhibit weapon's fire," Luke said, "and ours leave the targeting sensors blind."

"Yes, clearly it is some unknown individual."

"Are there any Borg enemies you might have forgotten to mention?"

For some reason, the remark stung her. She'd risked her life to save his, and now he was implying she withheld strategically invaluable information? "I have been completely forthright on all matters concerning the Borg," she said in a stern voice.

Luke seemed taken aback. "I wasn't implyin-"

"I - don't - know!" she said forcefully. Then she reexamined the conversation, and wanted to slap herself again. It was a simple question, but ever since she'd revisited the events at the camp her emotions were harder to control. She was afraid for no reason, she was anxious, she jumped down people's throats for innocent remarks, like she'd done here. And the fact that he was here again added its own stress to the situation. She was terribly embarrassed, and she couldn't even bring herself to look at him. Sometimes she could be so foolish!

Luke looked at Seven and felt embarrassed. He'd been kind of happy for the chance to talk with her again... hell, he was rather glad for the excuse when he got down to it. Well, he'd been here all of five minutes and already he'd apparently done something stupid. He should have known that Seven would probably be very sensitive on the subject of the Borg, but he'd lumbered into it like a Bantha. Some Jedi you are, he thought. He could sense sorrow, and uncertainty, even a little bit of fear. He owed it to her to try to make up for this, to try to offer a little comfort. "We all know you're on our side," he said as soothingly as possible. Oddly enough, he felt her fear growing, as well as a sense of loneliness.

Finally, she turned towards the door. "I have duties," she said, and rushed out, almost barreling over Han as he came walking into the room.

"Don't say anything," Luke remarked as Han opened his mouth.

"Who, me?" Han shrugged as Luke tried to think about what he could do to make up for his mistake.

"Red alert!" the computer voice announced as lights began flashing. "Now what," Han remarked as he stepped over to the display, which lit up with Riker's face. "Captain," Han said.

"I'm afraid you're both going to have to ride with us for right now," Riker said, visibly tense. "There's a Borg fleet, at least twenty ships but probably more, moving into our sector. We've got to rendezvous with the ships in this area to try and stop them."

"What planet are they going to?" Han asked quickly.

"Not a planet," Riker said, "they're going towards the wormhole."

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