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William T. Riker, captain of the flagship of the Federation, looked awful. He'd seen it when he'd finally gotten out of his bed in the middle of the night and put on his uniform, deciding that sleep just wasn't going to happen to him tonight. There were, of course, a thousand things on his mind, and so he'd decided the only thing to do was to start unburdening himself a little.
He'd given the issue of Seven of Nine a lot of thought. Borui, cavalier though she was, was at least right about him being responsible for the situation, and as her commanding officer it fell to him to decide what should be done. It hadn't been easy, but he knew Seven too, and agreed with the Doctor; this wasn't what she wanted. She would take the chance to get her mind back, regardless of the risk. That made the decision a little easier, but not much.
As he stepped from the quiet corridors of Deep Space 13 into Sickbay he noticed Luke was on hand as well. Not surprising; he'd be here if it were Deanna even long after their relationship had ended. The Doctor, who was always present, stepped over from the replicator. "I take it you're not here for a sedative."
"How soon can you begin the procedure?" Riker asked, his voice sounding a little hoarse.
"Everything's prepared," the Doctor said. "We can begin as soon as you wish."
Riker, thought about his choice. This was his last chance to change his mind. "Do it," he said.
"Sickbay to Dr. Bashir," the Doctor said, tapping his communicator.
The exhausted voice of DS13's resident physician came over the comm. "What is it?"
"We're moving ahead with the operation on Seven of Nine," Bashir said. "Capt. Riker has approved the procedure; I thought you'd want to be here."
"Give me a few minutes," Bashir said. "Don't start without me."
"What's going on?" Luke asked as the Doctor entered one of the adjoining rooms to retrieve some equipment.
"We're going to try and bring her back," Riker said.
Luke looked at him in a way that made him uncomfortable. "There's something you're not telling me."
Riker sighed; there was no fooling the Jedi. "There is a chance the procedure could kill her. But we have hope that she'll make a full recovery."
Luke's look slowly descended to Seven of Nine. There was such a pained expression on his face, like nothing Riker had ever seen from him before. He was normally so emotionally restrained, it was rather out of character. "If hope is all I have," he finally said, "Then I'll take it."
Admiral Nemit carefully entered Thrawn's office. He didn't like having to do this, in fact he would have preferred sending some poor officer to go in his place, but unlike previous leaders of the Empire, Thrawn didn't kill the messenger, he killed the responsible party. At least by taking the time to come down personally he'd be showing him the seriousness of the situation, which might help curb the grand admiral's anger.
He cleared his throat as Thrawn stared at a twirling Borg ship, a pyramid in this case. Strangely, there was no movement from him, leaving Nemit with little to do but wait. Almost a minute passed, and he began to worry. "Sir?" he said cautiously. He stepped around, the desk; Thrawn's eyes were wide open, but there was no sign of anything. By the Sith, Nemit thought, he's dead!
"I said I was not to be disturbed," Thrawn said, causing Nemit to jump backwards in shock. The admiral quickly tried to compose himself under Thrawn's displeased stare; it wasn't easy. It went beyond mere inconvenience; it was clear Nemit had interrupted something important.
"I'm sorry sir," he said, "But Governor Nellia of Chandrilla has contacted us over the holonet, and wanted to speak with you personally." With a sigh Thrawn stood up as Nemit continued. "Chandrilla is, was, the homeworld for Mon Mothma; their addition to the Empire would certainly lend credence to our expanding support in our galaxy."
"Yes, it would," Thrawn said. "Very well, all is forgiven, this time." Nemit relaxed slightly; he hadn't had to face combat in a while, but he'd felt as if he just survived a dangerous battle. He returned to his office to continue processing the new applicants to the Empire as Thrawn traveled to the holotheater.
"Governor," Thrawn said as politely as he could. "I understand you wished to speak with me."
"Yes," Gov. Nellia said. "First, the people of Chandrilla wish to thank you for your protection of our world during these dark times. The ships you kept helped repel a second Borg invasion of our world, and I've no doubt we would have been destroyed had it not been for their intervention."
"We are only too glad to be of assistance," Thrawn said.
"Your ships have recently withdrawn," Gov. Nellia continued, "leaving our world vulnerable to further attacks."
"Yes, I regret this turn of events," Thrawn said, "But unfortunately I can no longer afford to continue these humanitarian efforts. The first duty of Imperial ships is to protect Imperial citizens, and we simply don't have the resources to defend others outside our territory any more."
"I understand that over four hundred worlds have already joined the Empire here in our galaxy," Gov. Nellia said.
"Something like that," Thrawn said. "I have administrators who handle those details. I am merely a soldier, madam; I concern myself with the defense of the people."
"The leaders of Chandrilla have considered joining your Empire," Gov. Nellia continued. "Naturally we are concerned about rushing into an agreement. The Empire does not have a very good record of considering the rights of its citizens."
"Yes, and that lesson was learned the hard way," Thrawn replied. "And learned we have; the members of the New Empire enjoy a much more free way of life than was allowed under the Old Empire. We strike a balance; the Old Empire was clearly flawed in its tyranny and relentless drive of conquest, while the New Republic, if you'll pardon my presumption, was flawed in its lack of proper government coordination and defense. We will take the best of both, and dispense with the worst. And I believe that our record against the Borg, who took down the New Republic in one stroke, speaks volumes on that score."
"Will you be instituting conscription?" Gov. Nellia asked.
"We may be forced to resort to it," Thrawn admitted. He knew the high value Chandrillians placed on honesty in negotiation, he'd paid close attention to it in his studies. "Our ships are useless without a crew to fly them, and we need ships to adequately defend ourselves against the Borg. However, I can promise you that this would only be for the duration of the war; but I'm afraid that for now it is necessary."
Nellia nodded. "I must speak of this before the House of Governors," she said, "But I believe that Chandrilla needs the Empire, admiral. And I believe that it has changed. I have no doubt that we'll be filing our application for membership before the day is out."
"In that case, I look forward to further service of your great world," Thrawn said, and the holotransmission ended. His smile vanished, and he walked thoughtfully back towards his office. Did Nemit suspect anything, he thought briefly before dismissing it. The man was a gifted administrator, but clever he was not. He returned to his office and looked at the latest report by the admiral; it confirmed that no less than four hundred thirteen worlds in this galaxy had joined the Empire. He put down the datapad as the wheels of his mind turned. His projections had shown it would take well over a year for this many to join the Empire. Things were moving with mind-boggling speed. It was good fortune, but Thrawn hadn't found his way to this position by relying on fortune.
"General Yularen," he said into the comm. "I want a detailed report on all unusual activity within the New Republic. Use all available resources; I want it by the end of the week." He sat back in his chair, thinking as he watched the spinning Borg Pyramid. Something is interfering with my plans, he thought as his eyes narrowed. Helping me. Perhaps it is just fortune, but if it is more I must know. Could they know of his involvement with the Borg? No, surely they would interfere if they did. The only one who'd ever learned of it was dead anyway, he'd seen to that. Pity that, he thought for a moment, Picard had at least something of a brain, at least for a human. He closed his eyes and resumed his connection to the Collective; there was still much work to do.
Dr. Bashir, surprisingly alert for 0300, entered sickbay, walking past Luke and Riker to where the Doctor waited with the tray of instruments. "You're certain this is what you want to do?" Bashir asked Riker.
"Yes," Riker said with a quiet exhale, his eyes never leaving her.
"Computer," the Doctor said, "Activate holographic brainscan." Immediately an enlarged image of a human brain floated off to the side, color coded according to some scale Luke didn't understand. A slow pulsing noise was heard and Luke saw it coinciding with the chart over her bed, a life monitor, he thought. Her beats were agonizingly slow, presumably from her catatonic state.
"Begin recording," Bashir said. "Patient is Lt. Comm. Seven of Nine, suffering from a complete collapse of all synaptic activity. No signs of higher or lower level cognitive functions. The patient has several Borg implants throughout her cerebrum which we will attempt to use to re-initiate her cognitive functions. Time of operation beginning at 03:12."
The Doctor carefully selected a long, slender device with two bent pieces of metal coming off it. With absolute care he held it over a portion of her head, and a quiet buzzing sound was heard. On the holographic display a portion of her brain that was colored pink now flared to yellow and then a light green color.
"Implant one complete," the Doctor said.
"No synaptic activity," Bashir said. "Vitals remain steady."
Carefully the Doctor placed the device on a different area of her head. Again there was a change in the hologram, but no report of brain activity despite whatever changes the display was showing. The Doctor repeated this twice more, turning most of the brain to a light green color, with a few speckles of darker green throughout. He returned the device to the table and selected another, hesitantly holding this smaller, cylindrical device over her head.
"Initiating pulse at 03:25," the Doctor said. He activated the device and there was a hum, and he held it over her head for several seconds. Suddenly the green started changing to blue on the holodisplay.
"They're firing," Bashir said quickly. "Isolated, random, but there seems to be an increasing frequency."
"Mild increase in cardiopulmonary activity," the Doctor said, removing the device.
"The activity is starting to organize," Bashir said anxiously. "Spreading. The synapses are appearing solid."
Luke felt the change in her, like a glow that was growing into a star. She was coming back... After all this time, she was coming back!
Then the alarm sounded. "What's happened?" the Doctor asked quickly.
"The paths are starting to collapse," Bashir said. "It's spreading! Damn, it's spreading towards her central nervous system!" He grabbed a device off the table and pushed past the Doctor, turning Seven's head away and pointing it to the base of her skull.
"Heart rate is erratic," the Doctor said with worry. Bashir continued his task as the Doctor grabbed small pads from the table and placed them on her chest.
"I can't stabilize it!" Bashir said. There was a steady tone. "Flatline," he said with disgust.
"Defibrillation," the Doctor said as Bashir stepped clear. There was a kind of muffled popping sound and Seven arched her back. "Nothing. Again," and the situation repeated, again and again as Luke slowly slid away, watching her light fade to a glow and then to nothing, only to turn blurry as a tear distorted his vision. He turned and leaned against the wall in grief as the Doctor again hit the controls to no avail. All that could be heard to Luke was the sickening, even tone that filled sickbay.
The little girl looked up and saw the Doctor and Bashir working, looking quite anxious. She watched as they tried helping her, but obviously it was too late. She felt something pulling at her, telling her it was time to leave and she walked away from them, ignoring their frantic efforts. As she walked, she saw the tall man standing next to the door. "Luke," she said quietly, though it scarcely mattered; even he couldn't see her. She looked up into his face. He was in pain; he was trying hard to contain it, but she could see it in his every feature. "Don't be sad, Luke." As he watched her body he began shaking under the effort and covered his face. She could only look at him. He was without a doubt the strongest man she'd ever met. And here he was, crying. Crying for her. She felt so sorry that she was hurting him like this, and it had to hurt deeply to shake the resolve of a man who could face the Emperor unarmed and still not back down. She felt the pull grow stronger, but as she looked up into his grief-filled face she wished she could make it better. "I don't want you to feel bad because of me," she said. "But I have to go."
"No, you don't," said a friendly voice. She turned and saw a bearded old man step over to her. That's funny, she thought, I didn't see him before. "Your lifeforce is strong child," he said, bending down to her size.
She looked down at herself, then up at him. "Why am I like this?" she asked.
The old man grinned. "Isn't this what you've always been? Beneath all of the Borg conditioning, isn't this who you really are?"
She thought about it. "Yes," she admitted. She thought about his earlier words. "Does this mean I don't have to go?"
"You can if you wish," he said. He had a kind voice, she liked it. "You can move on. I know your father is waiting for you."
She looked down. "I miss him sometimes."
"You can be with him," he said. "You also can return. The Force is strong in you, child. Few have the power to make such decisions."
"I want to be with my daddy," she said, then she turned around and looked up at Luke. "But I don't want him to feel bad. And I'll miss him."
"You must do what you feel is right child," the old man said with a friendly smile. "Only you can make this choice, but you must decide quickly or it will be made for you. Even the most powerful in the Force cannot stray too long."
She was quiet as she looked between her body on the table and the old man. "But... I'm afraid of the dark."
"He made you a promise," the old man said with a smile. "Do you trust him?"
"Yes," she said. "Do you think my daddy will be mad?" she asked quietly.
"No," the old man said, "He'd want you to be happy."
She nodded her head. "Okay."
The pulsing beat of the machine jerked everyone's attention to the lifesign display. It was the only sound to fill the room as they watched her heartbeat, her breathing, all her vital signs start to normalize. It had worked; somehow, it had worked.
By 0500 sickbay had become as active as if it were the middle of the day. Borui, Janeway, Leia, even Han had all come down to see the progress that had been made. It was small, but definitely something to be pleased with.
"She's still unconscious," the Doctor said. "But there are definite signs of brain activity now."
"Have you tried to resuscitate her?" Janeway asked.
"We tried," Riker said, now visibly exhausted, "Nothing happened."
"It's probably something psychological at this point," the Doctor said. "Whatever caused the initial damage obviously did more than just damage her brain."
"She'd been under psychological strain for some time before this happened," Borui said. "It doesn't surprise me in the least."
"Unfortunately," the Doctor said, "This is something I can't treat. I'm afraid we'll just have to wait for her to come out of it."
"In other words," Borui said, "You risked her life and we're still at square one." She paused. "Where's Dr. Bashir?"
"Asleep," Riker said. "There's nothing we can do now but wait."
Luke looked down at her, unable to believe everything that had happened over the past few days. So many emotional highs and lows, so many strange and inexplicable things. But now he was here, and things were looking a little better, although how long he could wait was a whole different matter entirely. He leaned against the wall, a little exhausted himself, distracted.
"Promise you won't give up on me," came her voice.
He could feel her now, deep inside her mind, trapped there in the dark. The worst was over, yes, but she still needed help. She needed someone, someone to guide her back. "I'll be waiting for you," her voice whispered.
"Doctor," Luke said, "How stable is her condition?"
"Remarkably stable, all things considered."
Luke looked at her again. Was it time? He hadn't actually tried this before.
"What are you thinking about?" Borui asked. "You're up to something."
Luke looked over to her. "I want to try something. My teacher, Selvik, taught me a way to enter the mind of another who was willing."
"You want to perform a mindmeld?" the Doctor said with an incredulous tone. "I hate to break the news to you Mr. Skywalker, but you're not a Vulcan."
"No I'm not," Luke said. "I'm a Jedi, and I can do this."
"What do you hope to accomplish?" Han asked. Even he seemed unsure of what Luke was proposing.
"I can try and find her, to help her find her way back." Luke wet his lips, becoming more and more sure by the second. "She's alone and scared and wants our help."
"Luke," Leia said with concern, "Have you done this before?"
He hesitated. "Once, with Selvik. But the principle's the same."
"I don't like this," the Doctor said. "You'll be putting yourself at risk. Telepathic attacks can leap between minds during melds, it's very dangerous."
"You don't understand," Luke said. "I promised her. I have to do this."
"If there's a chance that we can finally end this," Janeway said, "and you're willing to take the chance, I don't see why we should stand in his way."
"Agreed," Riker said. The Doctor seemed unhappy, but nevertheless, it was still Riker's decision to make.
"I told ya we'd help out," Han said. "Anything you need before you start this?"
"I'm ready," Luke said. And he reached for his central calm, to be at peace with the Force. Once he found it he reached out towards her, slipping gently into her imprisoned mind.
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