CHAPTER FORTY
Ensign Matthew Dean had seen some interesting things in the two years since he had graduated Starfleet Academy, but nothing he had seen up to this point was as fascinating or eerie as the four Borg drones lying behind a level ten force field in the brig of the USS Tesseract. He had seen holographic representations before, and they were pretty realistic, enough to scare you pretty badly during tactical simulations. But the drones lying in separate cells just a couple of meters away from him were the real thing. One was dead, or at least he was pretty sure it was. One, he was calling “Brain” because, well, he could see it, and if he didn’t turn it into some kind of joke, he might throw up. The other two were just out cold.
This hadn’t been covered in the tactical simulations -- what to do with a bunch of unconscious Borg drones. He had called medical for the drones, but sickbay was apparently slammed with patients and he had been waiting for a doctor to show up for several minutes. As he waited, he sat behind the computer console in the brig, watching tactical and systems updates flash by on the screen, and eyeing the motionless Borg with wary interest. He was really too young to remember much about the Battles of Sector 001 or Wolf 359, so everything he knew about the Borg had been learned from his classes at school, and the memories of those a bit older than him who had seen it firsthand. He was surprised at how small the drones actually were. For some reason, he had always thought of them as larger than an average humanoid, but then again, he had seen the ship’s ex-Borg first officer walking around and he looked normal enough.
As he gazed idly at the console display, a security report marked PRIORITY ONE caught his attention, but as he reached out to freeze the display, John Quigley stormed into the brig, looking pale and stressed out and more than a little bit angry. He was carrying the top half of his tactical armor and his helmet under one arm, and as he walked in, he threw it all into a corner to be dealt with later. Matt could see the tactical gear was streaked with blood, and John’s hands were a mess, as well.
“Have you called medical for these prisoners?” John asked as he walked over to the small lavatory and started wash his hands in the sonic sink.
“Yes, sir, they’re on their way, supposedly. I guess sickbay is kind of slammed right now. ”
John looked perplexed for a moment, then a look of understanding crossed his face. “People must have gotten hurt when the ship rocked. What caused that, anyway?”
“An explosion on the Borg cube, sir. The tactical reports are all here,” he said, indicating the console.
“Thanks, Matt,” John answered distractedly. Matt noticed that John’s hands were clean now, but he still held them in the sonic sink, staring at them with an odd expression on his face. Matt suddenly wondered if he was all right. John was normally a friendly, easygoing guy, but his entire demeanor had changed the moment they’d arrived outside engineering. Rumor had it he and the chief engineer had something going on, and nothing that Matt had seen this morning had done anything to dispel that notion. He hoped the engineer would be okay, as much for John’s sake as for hers. The lieutenant looked pretty shaken.
Matt looked back at the console display and brought up the priority one advisory. His eyes widened as he read the report. “Sir, there’s something here you should probably see,” Matt told John. John glanced over, then looked back down at his hands and seemed to shake himself out of his fog.
“What is it?” he asked, walking over to Matt and leaning over his shoulder to view the display.
“A priority one security advisory. The first officer is being held hostage.” John looked at Matt sharply and gently pushed him aside, leaning forward to get a better look. He read it first quickly, then again more carefully, staring at each word in stunned disbelief.
“Fuck,” he exclaimed under his breath, bringing his hand down hard on the console. “You’re in charge here until further notice, Ensign,” he said. “I’ll be in sickbay.”
*****
Adele and Admiral Beckley walked into the brig just moments after John had left, and the ensign on duty snapped to attention so hard Adele wondered if he would be sore the next morning.
“At ease,” the two superior officers said in unison. Adele exchanged a glance with the admiral, who smiled at her. Blank. Creepy. No emotion. She forced herself to smile back.
“Explain what we have here, Ensign,” Adele requested.
Matt glanced at the four occupied cells. “Four Borg drones. One appears to be dead, another is seriously injured, and two are unconscious. Medical has been called, they’re sending someone now. They’re behind a level ten forcefield, a strong dampening field, and according to Lieutenant Telek in engineering, their neural transceivers have been temporarily disabled by a Kedion pulse, sir.”
So that’s what O’Connor was up to, Adele thought. Icheb’s cortical monitor must have given her the idea. Suddenly, she froze. All at once, her mind made several connections, and she realized she might have a very, very large problem on her hands. There was no way to be sure without talking to Maren directly, but Adele suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that her chief engineer might have been trying to save more than just the ship.
“When can we question them?” asked Admiral Beckley, who hadn’t taken his eyes off the drones.
“You’ll have to consult medical about that, sir. I have no idea how to wake them up, and with all due respect, I don’t feel comfortable trying,” Matt answered.
“I suppose that could be a good way to get yourself assimilated,” the admiral conceded, a little flippantly.
Matt nodded solemnly in reply and eyed the drones warily. “Medical should be here any time now, you can ask the doctor.”
“I’ll do that,” Beckley replied.
Adele saw her opportunity and took it. “Admiral, if you wouldn’t mind waiting alone for medical, I’d like to run up to sickbay myself and check on my chief engineer. She was injured after the drones beamed aboard.”
The admiral looked at her, his expression as unreadable as his emotions -- if he has any, Adele thought wryly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Captain,” he said, sounding reasonably sincere. “She gave me a fascinating tour of engineering just this morning. Please tell her I hope she recovers soon.” Adele resisted the urge to shudder at the void of emotion coming from the man.
“I’ll be sure to do that, sir,” she replied, and took one last long look at the unconscious drones before heading for sickbay.
*****
John took a deep breath as he surveyed the chaotic scene in front of him. Sickbay was packed. There were at least two dozen crewmen inside, all being treated for minor injuries suffered when the ship had been rocked by the explosion on the Borg cube. He stood in the doorway, scanning the room until he saw Maren lying on a biobed in a comparatively quiet corner, tucked away behind a small partition. No one was with her, but there was a diagnostic arch over her head and it looked like she was unconscious again. Someone had cleaned most of the blood off her face, but her blonde hair was still streaked with it. With all of the medical staff busy, there was no one to prevent him from going over to her, so he did.
“Maren?” he whispered, taking her hand. She didn’t answer. She was out cold -- probably sedated, he thought. There was no way he was leaving her to find out the news from someone else when she woke up, so he grabbed a nearby visitors chair, pulled it close to the bed and sat down, watching her breathe as he held onto her hand and tried to figure out how to tell her Icheb was missing.
“How did you get back here?” a voice said from behind him. He turned around in his chair to see Sheila Duggal, the doctor Maren had been working with a few nights before.
“By walking,” John answered truthfully. He knew he probably sounded like a smartass, but he didn’t much care.
Sheila gave him a look of irritation mixed with sympathy. “You’re not supposed to be in here. I can let you know when we move her to a real room or release her to her quarters.”
John looked at the tiny, dark-haired doctor with a tired expression. “I’m not leaving. Call security if you feel like it, but they’re kind of tied up right now.”
Sheila looked at him for a moment, sighed, and briefly placed a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning her attention to the scanning arch. John figured that meant she wasn’t calling security. “Thanks,” he said quietly.
She glanced at him. “No problem,” she replied.
“Is she okay?” John asked, as Sheila checked the monitors.
Sheila nodded. “She should be. We’ll need to watch her for a couple of days to make sure the swelling goes down, but Doctor Bashir was able to stop the bleeding in her brain pretty quickly. She got hit really hard; do you know how it happened?”
John shook his head. “I’m not totally sure. I think she got thrown by one of the drones, but I didn’t see it happen.”
“Well, between the head injury and the hangover, she’ll have a hell of a headache, but we can treat that,” Sheila told him.
John smiled wryly at the mention of the hangover. “She definitely partied a little too hard last night,” he said.
“Fire water?” Sheila asked. John nodded, looking surprised. “Yeah, we had quite a few people in here early this morning trying to get that out of their systems,” Sheila explained. “And now, this happens,” she added, gesturing toward the packed sickbay. “Busy day so far. And apparently it’s about to get worse.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of the drones is being transported here. It’s got a worse head injury than Maren, but it’s alive. I guess we’re going to try and treat it.”
John nodded. He didn’t have much to say to that. He returned his gaze to his unconscious friend and tightened his grip on her hand.
“Have you ever told her how you feel about her?” Sheila asked curiously, as she saw the expression on his face as he looked at her. John looked up like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“We’re friends,” he insisted.
Sheila rolled her eyes skeptically. “Sure you are.”
*****
Admiral Beckley stared at the drones in their separate cells with quiet anticipation. Part of the Tesseract mission was to determine the status of the Borg Collective, and now, they had three of its members alive and in captivity. If he had believed in such a thing as luck, he would have felt like it had shined on them today.
For the moment, he was glad the Borg were unconscious. It gave him time to consider the options. He wondered if this was what the young engineer he had met this morning had had in mind when she had done whatever she did to neutralize them, instead of killing them. Somehow, he doubted it. She didn’t seem like the tactically-minded type, she was too much of a scientist.
As he recalled his one and only interaction with Maren O’Connor, he couldn’t help but think of the way she had behaved around Commander Icheb, and suddenly, an intriguing question entered his mind. What if, due to the nature of her relationship with the exec, she sees these drones as something other than a faceless enemy? She was just young enough, he realized, that the similarly young ex-drone exec may very well have been her only exposure to the Collective beyond what she had learned in school. He raised his eyebrows as he considered the implications of that.
He watched quietly as the Vulcan doctor, Sarik, set up a site-to-site transport to sickbay for himself and the badly injured drone, whose injuries he had quickly determined were too severe to be treated with the medkit. The other two live drones had been given some sort of treatment for their neural shock, but had not yet regained consciousness. Admiral Beckley waited patiently, and as he did, he contemplated the situation with the first officer.
Who would have technology sophisticated enough to neutralize both the best of Federation technology and the Borg Collective, and what would they want with Commander Icheb? More to the point, he wondered, why would they think we would risk the safety of everyone on this ship just to get him back? His best guess was that they didn’t expect that. Then what do they want? He didn’t have any answers yet, but he was fairly certain that the drones might.