CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
USS Tesseract – Brig
Adele entered the literal and emotional chaos of the brig with trepidation, accompanied by two young security guards and carrying a sidearm of her own fastened to her jumpsuit. With raised eyebrows, she took in the sight of the unconscious Ensign Dean being tended to by the CMO and two medics, two lifeless Borg drones, and her chief tactical officer leveling a phaser rifle at her exec. It was then that she saw the small crowd of people standing behind Icheb, an odd mix of Borg drones and other species, including two Tyndorans.
“What, exactly, is going on here?” she demanded of Ryzal.
Ryzal gestured toward Icheb. “When I entered the brig, he was holding that rifle. Ensign Dean was unconscious and the commander had the weapon trained on those Borg,” he explained, pointing to the two unmoving drones. Adele looked to Icheb for an explanation.
“Permission to speak freely, Captain?” Icheb requested from behind his containment field.
“By all means,” Adele said, motioning to Ryzal to lower his weapon. The Saurian grudgingly complied, but kept a scrutinizing eye on his ex-Borg superior officer.
“All three were in this condition when you beamed us here,” he explained. “I picked up the rifle to attempt to gain control of the situation until I could activate a force field around the Resistance Borg. You should be able to check the security logs to confirm that.” Adele nodded at Ryzal, and he quickly complied.
“What is the condition of those drones?” Adele asked Icheb.
“Malik believes they are dead. I did not have a chance to confirm that before Ryzal arrived.”
Adele frowned. “Malik?” she asked, glancing at the Resistance and cocking an eyebrow.
“I am Malik,” the drone she recognized from their previous discussions over subspace informed her.
Adele looked him up and down and tried to keep her apprehension from showing. “Nice to finally meet you in person,” she lied. She looked down at Julian Bashir, kneeling next to Matthew Dean. “Is he all right?” she asked.
“He’s been drugged,” Julian replied with a troubled expression. “Kayolane. He’ll be out for hours.”
“Can you wake him?” she asked.
“Your officer’s condition is irrelevant,” Malik interrupted. “You brought us here because you wanted to talk.”
“We will talk,” Adele replied coolly, turning to face him. “On my terms.” She turned to Ryzal. “See that they’re put in separate cells. Same protocol as we used on the Borg. Stay here with them, call for backup, and stay alert.” Pausing, she walked up to Icheb. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding.
“Good,” she replied, “because you’ve got an awful lot of explaining to do. Come on, let’s get you and Mr. Malik to sickbay and check you both out.” Icheb nodded, and Adele moved to deactivate the force field, but before she reached the controls, Ryzal spoke up from behind her.
“Captain?” She turned to face him. “The security logs for this chamber are missing.”
Adele tensed at the news. She knew she should have seen that coming. “Of course they are,” she muttered quietly. “Can you recover them?”
“Unknown,” Ryzal replied, frowning at his display.
Adele sighed. “Very well. We’ll deal with that later. In the meantime, just keep this area secured and try to find out what happened to those drones.”
“Understood,” Ryzal said with a short nod.
Adele turned back to Icheb, gave him a wary look, and without another word, deactivated the forcefield Ryzal had put up around him. As she did, Icheb noticed she kept one hand very close to her weapon.
*****
USS Tesseract -- Office of Admiral Shane Beckley
Admiral Beckley looked at the tactical alert that had just filtered into his datastream. Someone -- someone not him -- had made a decision. The drones were dead. He wondered who had done it, and why. It couldn’t have been Bashir – the idealistic Doctor wouldn’t, no matter what the Section might want. There had to be someone else.
He himself had been looking forward to the intelligence the young chief engineer might have been able to extract from their cortical arrays. He supposed it might not be too late for that, but it was still a shame. They had been more useful alive than dead. However, unless something had happened that he didn’t know about yet, there was still one left in sickbay, plus several resistance drones and the executive officer. There was no shortage of active Borg technology on board for them to take advantage of if they decided they needed it.
He checked the chronometer on his desk display. Soon, he would meet the Borg Resistance face-to-face. The irony of their chosen designation was not lost on him, and with a cynical smirk, he thought to himself, I guess someone forgot to tell them that resistance is futile.
*****
USS Tesseract -- Sickbay
Maren O’Connor sat fully dressed on her biobed, nervously monitoring as many systems as she could access with nothing but a PADD. She could feel the slight trembling of the ship as it navigated the nebula. Sickbay was eerily quiet. She wished she could see what was happening on the bridge, or in engineering. Finally, she slid carefully off her bed, gripping the side tightly for stability as she did so. She was relieved to discover that the dizziness that had been her near-constant companion since her unfortunate encounter with the Borg had finally begun to fade significantly. It suddenly dawned on her that she had gotten more sleep in the last 24 hours than she had in the entire week prior to that. Amazing what a little rest can do, she thought wryly.
As she stepped through the doorway onto the main floor of sickbay, she heard an oddly synthesized-sounding voice and turned toward the sound. To her surprise, she saw that the drone who had pushed her in engineering and then suffered so much damage at the hands of Lieutenant Telek was standing up behind her containment field, arguing with the young security guard who had his weapon trained on her.
“You will release this drone immediately,” the Borg insisted, her vocal subprocessor making her sound strangely robotic. Her single remaining organic eye darted around as she examined the forcefield she was trapped behind. The containment fields were invisible to humans, but Maren knew the imaging technology in the ocular implant that took the place of the drone’s missing eye probably made them perfectly apparent to her. Maren thought she looked scared.
“Step away from the forcefield,” the security officer ordered the Borg, staring her down.
Maren quickly walked over to the pair. “Where’s Doctor Bashir?” she asked the security guard.
“The brig,” he replied. “There was an incident down there. I notified Doctor Marchenko; she said she’s on her way.”
Maren frowned and nodded, wondering what had happened in the brig. “Step aside for a minute,” she requested of the crewman.
“Ma’am, my orders – “ he began to protest, but she cut him off.
“You know what?” she snapped, exasperated, “Last time I checked, I hadn’t been stripped of my rank. I just gave you an order. Comply.” She fixed him with a cold stare to rival any Borg’s, assimilated and perfected over five years of accompanying Icheb to spend time with Seven of Nine. The security officer backed off, and Maren stepped closer to the force field.
“Release us,” the drone demanded in her synthesized voice. “Where are the others?”
“You’re alone right now,” Maren informed her. “You’re damaged. Our doctor has been repairing you.”
The drone blinked once and for the first time, seemed to actually look past the forcefield and into the rest of sickbay. “Federation vessel. Class unknown. Medical bay.” Her eyes came to rest on Maren. “You were in engineering. We deemed your activities to be a significant threat. You were neutralized.”
Maren managed not to wince at the foggy memory of her head slamming against the support beam and the ensuing pain and fear. “I survived,” she replied flatly. “And my colleague neutralized you. So I guess we’re even.” The quip was lost on the drone, who simply cocked her head slightly and looked at Maren with an appraising expression that sent a sudden chill down the young engineer’s spine.
Maren took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. “What is your designation?” she asked, stalling for time and wondering what was taking the doctor so long.
“One of Fifteen, primary adjunct of bimatrix two-four-seven,” the drone answered. She paused a moment and blinked again, for a split second looking almost wistful. “Dena,” she murmured, so quietly that Maren wasn’t sure she had really heard it.
“Excuse me?” Maren asked in shock, but the fleeting hint of emotion had already left the woman’s face.
“Your queries are irrelevant,” the drone declared with an air of finality. “You will return us to the Collective. You will be assimilated or destroyed. Resistance is –“ she was interrupted by the sound of an active transporter beam, and Maren turned in surprise to see several humanoid forms materializing in the middle of sickbay.
“Icheb!” she breathed with relief, as countless points of shimmering light solidified into a shape almost as familiar to her as her own. Her sudden smile quickly faded when she saw Julian Bashir and two medics bent over a prone ensign; Adele Oyugo standing next to two Borg drones -- a male and a female, both of whom Maren was quite certain were not the same ones she had sent to the brig; and a tall, violet-skinned alien man; along with several heavily armed security guards all eyeing both Icheb and the newcomers. As soon as the transport was complete, the two medics assisted Julian in hauling the unconscious young tactical ensign over to a biobed.
Maren rushed to Icheb’s side. “What’s going on? Are you all right?” she asked, fighting the sudden impulse to physically grab hold of him and never let go.
“I’m fine,” he assured her quietly. “Why are you --” he started to ask why she was in sickbay, but found himself competing with her.
“What happened to him?” Maren was asking at the same time, looking wide-eyed at the unconscious officer Julian was treating.
“I’m not entirely certain,” Icheb answered. “He’s been drugged. There’s a lot to discuss,” he added, glancing over at the three visitors standing with Adele. Suddenly, he looked back in surprise at Maren’s civilian clothing, then narrowed his eyes and studied her face more closely. “You’re injured,” he observed with concern, reaching up to lightly touch the fading bruises on her forehead with his fingers. One of the guards, who seemed to be assigned to watch Icheb, instantly reacted, reaching for his weapon, but Adele caught his arm and subtly shook her head “no.” He quickly returned to parade rest.
“I’m okay,” Maren assured him, and it felt almost true, now that she could see he was all right. She turned to Adele. “The drone woke up,” she explained, gesturing toward One of Fifteen. “No one was here. I’ve been talking to her – not much, but -- ”
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” Adele replied, cutting her off. “We’ve got bigger issues at the moment. I need Icheb back on the job immediately. Do you feel up to checking him out like we discussed?” Maren nodded. “Good,” said Adele. “Do it, and quickly, please.”
“Yes, Captain.” Maren leveled a last curious look at the two unfamiliar Borg and their alien companion, then took Icheb’s arm and escorted him to a nearby biobed as a security officer trailed closely behind. On the way, they passed One of Fifteen’s containment area. “Dena,” Maren whispered quietly as they walked by, eliciting a briefly troubled look from the drone, who had up until that point been staring at the newcomer Borg with a vaguely perplexed expression.
“What was that about?” Icheb inquired as they reached the biobed. Maren was already fussing over him, helping him onto the biobed, visually inspecting him for damage, and assisting him in finding a comfortable position in which to lie down for the diagnostic scans.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, well aware that the drone could probably hear her. “I think she might remember something from her life before the Collective. I’ll tell you about it later.” She quickly changed topics. “Are you really all right? Did they do anything to you?”
Icheb shook his head. “Malik hit me once. That was it.”
“Malik?” Maren looked at him quizzically.
“One of the Resistance Borg, the leader of the ship I was on,” he explained. “His name is Malik B’akthi.” Seeing the persistent look of concern on her face, he added, “I’m really fine, Maren. Please try not to worry about me.”
“I’ve been worried every day for two years, why should today be different?” Maren retorted, surprising even herself with the sharpness of her tone. Her voice broke unexpectedly, and she bit her lip hard as the tears threatened to come. “I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I, um …” her cheeks reddened and she trailed off.
Icheb gave her a long look and reached up to take her hand in his. “Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t apologize. We can talk about this later.” She squeezed his hand and nodded, still fighting back tears, then pulled her hand out of his grasp and brought the diagnostic arch over his head.
As she manipulated the touch display to configure the scans, she remarked quietly, “We’ve been here a time or two before, haven’t we?” It was Icheb’s turn to give a quizzical look. “Brain scans and biobeds,” she clarified. “This just feels very familiar.” Icheb nodded, understanding perfectly. It was, indeed, well-traveled territory for both of them.
When the machine was ready to go, Maren looked down at Icheb. “I’m going to be taking a detailed scan of your cortical array to ensure it hasn’t been tampered with or otherwise compromised,” she told him, in a tone of voice that made it very clear this hadn’t been her idea. “It’s merely a precautionary measure.” She shot him an apologetic look, and he met her gaze.
“I understand,” he said reassuringly. “Proceed.”
Maren gave him a brief almost-smile and activated the diagnostic arch. Icheb closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of her fingers tapping at the console. The scan took nearly two minutes to complete, and it passed between the two of them in silence. Finally, the computer sounded a tone and Maren examined the display. “Doctor Bashir?” she called out to the medical chief. “Do you want to come take a look at this?”
It was then that she noticed the showdown going on across sickbay.
*****
“You shouldn’t have Collective Borg on this ship,” Malik said with enough force that Irina Marchenko flinched slightly and took a step backward, still holding the medical tricorder she had been scanning him with. “My people are in your brig behind a force field, and you treat this drone like one of your own?”
“She’s behind a force field, too,” Adele assured him. “She was seriously injured. It’s our policy to treat injured prisoners.”
“Based on the current condition of your detention chamber, someone aboard this vessel disagrees with that policy,” Malik noted dryly. “Someone significantly more pragmatic than you appear to be,” he added, as Irina completed her scan and moved on to the female Resistance drone.
Adele didn’t take the bait. “When I find that person, he or she will be punished to the fullest extent of Federation law. I don’t take murder lightly, Mr. B’akhti.”
“Do you take annihilation lightly? Because that’s what’s going to happen to your Federation if you don’t assist us in stopping the Borg Collective.” He glared at One of Fifteen across sickbay, who stared back at him with an indecipherable expression of her own. Adele looked around the room at the odd collection of Borg and Resistance Borg and ex-Borg and aliens-helping-Borg and wondered exactly what was going to come of this meeting.
“I’ve heard enough vague warnings and threats out of you,” she finally told Malik coolly. “You went to the trouble of intervening during our encounter with the Borg, kidnapping my first officer and orchestrating this rendezvous. You’ve got my attention. Please. Explain to me what’s going on, and what exactly you want from us.”
Malik looked across the room at Icheb, who was now sitting up on the biobed watching him, alongside Maren, who was also staring with interest. “I believe he can answer your first question even more adequately than I can,” he said, “but as to your second question – what I want is simple. I want your Federation to finish what you started. And we want him,” he added, eye and ocular implant still locked on Icheb.
Maren’s eyes widened, and without thinking, she moved to put herself between Malik and Icheb. Adele narrowed her eyes. “My first officer is not on the negotiating table,” she informed Malik.
“Your Federation and the Resistance, we both want the same thing,” Malik retorted. “To destroy the Collective. I believe he can do it. But not without our assistance.”
Adele turned to look at her young exec. “How are his scans?” she suddenly thought to ask, looking to Maren and Julian Bashir, who at some point during the discussion had made his way over to the console to take a look. Both officers exchanged a glance and nodded.
“He’s fine,” Julian said. “Or I should say, he doesn’t appear to have been compromised,” he added, shooting Icheb a darkly pointed look.
“His scans are identical to the ones we have on file,” Maren added quickly, giving Adele a pleading look. Not here, not now, she seemed to be saying, and Adele agreed completely. This was neither the time nor the place for the ‘Why did you lie to Starfleet?’ conversation.
“Good,” Adele replied, in a tone that implied the matter was closed. The truth was, she had been fairly sure he hadn’t been tampered with the moment they had arrived in sickbay and she had sensed his reactions upon reuniting with his former fiancée. Even so, she was grateful for the confirmation.
Adele turned to the three Resistance members. “All right then, all of you, come with me. You too,” she said, looking at Icheb and Maren. “I want a thorough explanation for all of this, and I want my staff to hear it, too.”
Icheb slid off the biobed and sidestepped around Maren, who looked after him with a slightly panicked expression as he approached Malik. “I told you before, I’m willing to help,” he told him, “but I’m doing it as a Starfleet officer, and I want to do it my way.” He turned to Adele. “I’ll explain everything. But first we have to contact the Alpha Quadrant. They need to know the Borg are coming.”
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