“So, naturally,” said Stevens, “they advised Starfleet.” His voice was light, but Gomez detected a note of cynicism there as well.
Gold acknowledged with a soft grunt. “When it comes to the Borg, Starfleet has become the go-to guys for beating them back. God knows few others have had success at it.”
“That may be so, sir,” Gomez said, “but we’re not equipped to go hunting down the Borg. The da Vinci isn’t exactly armed to the teeth.”
“I’m well aware of that, Gomez,” Gold said, “but we won’t be going into battle. The signal is coming from a cube, but it appears to have crashed on the planet’s surface a long time ago.”
“How long?” asked Corsi.
“At least two decades before Wolf 359, based on the information Scotty passed along to me,” Gold said, referring to their Starfleet liaison, the legendary engineer Montgomery Scott.
Gomez shook her head. A Borg cube in Federation space twenty years before they were first seen here? It didn’t make any sense. How could it not have been detected by long range observatories or nearby starships? And why, after all this time, hadn’t the Borg returned to retrieve the vessel or any drones that might have survived?
“An advanced team from the Hood has been onsite since day one and has deemed it safe,” Gold continued, then glanced at Gomez. “It’s the power signature inside the cube that you and your team need to contend with. The output is negligible enough that it doesn’t reach far beyond the planet, but Starfleet doesn’t want to take any chances. They want the power shut down.”
Aside from the Borg factor, this all seemed fairly routine to Gomez. The specifications of Borg cubes could be easily accessed by any starship in the service, so she still wasn’t clear why the S.C.E. was being sent. She voiced this concern to Gold, adding, “The Hood is already onsite. Wouldn’t it be simpler for them to send a team in to turn the thing off?”
“Under normal circumstances, yes,” Gold said, “but there’s another element to this, and Scotty wants Starfleet’s best engineers to look into it.” He paused to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “There’s apparently an odd energy distribution pattern that indicates the power is no longer being directed throughout the ship, but rather below the surface.”
“That is peculiar,” said P8 Blue from her specially-designed seat at the opposite end of the table. The Nasat’s comment was accompanied by a tinkling sound that indicated the insectoid engineer’s growing interest. “This would also explain why the cube appears dormant despite the minimal active power flow.”
“I concur,” said computer specialist Soloman, the lone Bynar on the ship.
Gomez had to admit, her own curiosity was piqued. Although she still believed this was a task that the Hood’s engineering team could readily deal with, part of Gomez was glad that her team would be the one to investigate the mystery, despite the fact it was centered around a Borg cube.
“If, for whatever reason, you’re unable to shut the power down, our orders are to clear the site and destroy the cube,” Gold said. “Any questions?”
Sitting opposite Gomez, Mor glasch Tev, the da Vinci’s Tellarite second officer, cleared his throat roughly and raised a stubby index finger. “Perhaps I’m missing something here, Captain, but why are we complicating matters by looking into this power distribution anomaly? We’re talking about a Borg cube. Why not just destroy the thing and be done with it?”
“Because we’re the S.C.E., Tev,” said Gold. “It’s our job to investigate engineering anomalies. And as I’ve already mentioned, the cube shows no signs of any danger. I can appreciate your reticence where the Borg are concerned; I’m sure we can all relate in one way or another. But I assure you, we wouldn’t be going anywhere near that ship if I didn’t think it was safe.”
“Very well, sir,” Tev said, “although I still have my reservations.”
“So noted,” Gold said, then glanced at the rest of them. “Any other questions?”
When no one else spoke up, Gomez said, “All clear, sir.”
“Excellent.” Gold rose from his chair and fixed his eye on Gomez. “We’ll reach the planet in just over four hours, so you have until then to review the data and prepare a mission plan.”
Gomez stood as well and bobbed her head. “Aye, sir.”
“Dismissed.”
Soloman almost sent Dantas Falcão sprawling to the deck as he sprang out of the turbolift the moment the doors parted. The attractive human female, the da Vinci’s medical technician, avoided the collision by twisting out of the way at the last second, completing a graceful three-hundred-and-sixty-degree pirouette before falling softly against the bulkhead. The impromptu display was one of the most impressive evasive maneuvers the diminutive Bynar had ever seen.
Unfortunately, he was late for the meeting Commander Gomez had called in the mess hall to discuss their upcoming Borg mission, and there was no time to compliment Falcão on her impressive feat of acrobatic legerdemain. He’d been in sickbay when the team was summoned, and Dr. Lense didn’t see the need to interrupt his annual physical.
“I’m sure they can do without you for a little while,” the increasingly pregnant Lense had said as she passed her tricorder near his thoracic region. Soloman had reluctantly agreed, though it pained him that he was going to be late.
Once Lense was through with him, however, he’d darted out of there as fast as his legs would take him, making his way through the ship as though his very life was at stake.
“I’m so sorry!” he called over his shoulder at Falcão.
Falcão smiled and gave him a wave. “No harm done.”
Soloman smiled back, then picked up his pace again. In moments he passed through the mess hall doors and saw his associates sitting around a table in the far corner. In addition to Gomez, present at the table were Fabian Stevens, Tev, P8 Blue, and Lieutenant Commander Corsi, who would be heading up the security detail for the inevitable away mission. Notably absent were Bart Faulwell and Carol Abramowitz, though based on the mission parameters Captain Gold had outlined, there did not seem to be any need for a linguist or a cultural specialist on the mission. Soloman hadn’t expected the group to wait for him, but he was still a little disappointed to see them already immersed in discussion. He hoped he hadn’t missed anything significant.
“Ah, there he is,” Gomez said as he approached. She gestured to the empty chair next to Fabian Stevens, and he quickly took his seat.
“I apologize for being late.”
“That’s all right,” Gomez said, “we were just discussing what our tasks should be for the upcoming mission.” Soloman listened as she quickly outlined what had been determined in his absence. Stevens and Pattie would be responsible for accessing the power core and finding a way to shut it down, while he and Tev would research any pertinent data the away team would need once they reached the Borg cube’s power core.
Soloman’s heart fell at the implication. “I won’t be joining you on the away team?”
“I’m afraid not, Soloman,” Gomez said. “We need to limit the team to as few as necessary, plus we’ll be taking some security personnel as well. At the moment, you’ll be the most use to us here, pulling up data that will help us in the cube.”
Soloman nodded. He understood that the specialized skills of the S.C.E. team members were not always needed for every mission, nor was it necessary for certain individuals to beam down to a mission site in order to be of the most use. Still, he always felt a small pang of disappointment when he was left behind. He enjoyed visiting new worlds and seeing what kind of technology was used by alien cultures, and he doubted he would have many other opportunities to examine Borg technology firsthand. But depending on how the mission went, there could be an opportunity for him yet.
“I understand,” he said, then glanced at Tev. “I am sure with Commander Tev’s assistance, we will make an effective team.”
“I look forward to working with you, Specialist,” Tev said.
Soloman nodde
d in response. Six months ago, the Tellarite would have made a comment that would have been at once aggrandizing to himself and belittling to Soloman, but repeated rebukes from Gold and Gomez—as well, according to rumor, as some enforced sensitivity training in the hololab—had served to soften Tev’s bluster a bit. Slowly but surely, he was actually becoming a team player.
“Well,” Stevens said, rubbing his hands together, “who’s up for some pre-mission beverages? We’ve got a few hours to kick back until we drop in on the Hood.”
“Are you buying?” P8 Blue asked.
Stevens grinned. “Of course.”
Tev emitted a soft snort. “Despite the fact that there’s no monetary value assigned to replicator food and drink, I accept your offer.”
“Will wonders never cease,” Stevens said.
“Considering you’ve just ‘bought’ us all drinks, my guess would be no,” Tev said, and this garnered a chuckle or two from the Tellarite’s crewmates.
“I think I’ll pass,” Gomez said and stood up. “I’ve got some things to do to prepare for the mission.”
“Are you sure, Commander?” Stevens asked.
Gomez looked at Stevens for a long moment as she considered the question—longer than seemed necessary, Soloman thought. It was as though they were communicating telepathically, but Soloman knew neither of the humans had that particular skill. He glanced at the others to see if they had similar thoughts, but no one appeared to notice anything was wrong—not even Commander Corsi, who was watching their silent exchange with a level expression.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Gomez said at last. “Thanks anyway.” She turned and left the room without another word. It seemed odd that she wouldn’t join them for a drink, but Soloman supposed that as the head of their team she did have other preparations to make before they arrived at the mission site.
“What was that all about?” Corsi asked, her eyes shifting to Stevens.
“I dunno,” Stevens replied, then shrugged as he turned back to the table. “I guess she wasn’t thirsty. I’ll be right back with those drinks.”
As Stevens left the table, Soloman noticed that Corsi’s gaze did not waver from the retreating tactical specialist. This wasn’t surprising, considering the pair were engaged in a relationship; Soloman supposed, as the human expression went, she just couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. After a few moments, Corsi shrugged off her distraction and turned back to the group.
“What do you have to do to get some real service in this place?” she asked casually.
“Get up and get your drink yourself,” Tev suggested. Not surprisingly, Corsi fixed the Tellarite with a scowl that was surprisingly more sedate than those she usually reserved for him.
“That really is the only option,” Pattie said. “Unless you want to apply for a waitressing job.”
Corsi puckered her lips a bit as though she were contemplating whether or not to react in the manner her instincts probably wanted her to. Finally she just said, “No thanks. I’ll just stick with Stevens for the time being.”
“Suit yourself,” Pattie said with a cheery tinkle. “But we could really use a waitress in here.”
Stevens returned and set a platter of small glasses filled with a reddish liquid on the center of their table. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing lethal. Just a little something I concocted.”
“In that case, perhaps we should be wary of its toxicity,” Tev said with a snort. This prompted a few chuckles from around the table, including Stevens himself.
“Funny,” Stevens said. “Okay, glasses up.” Mirroring his crewmates, Soloman raised his glass in the customary toasting fashion. “To success on the upcoming mission. May we get through it without being assimilated.”
“Hear hear,” Corsi said and drained her glass in one gulp.
“Success,” Soloman said in tune with the others.
“Qapla’.”
Everyone turned upon hearing the Klingon word, and Soloman was pleased to see Bart Faulwell approaching the table.
“Is this a private party or can anyone join in?” the linguist asked.
Stevens grinned as he sat down. “Well, it is an exclusive gathering…but we’ll make an exception for you, Bart.”
“You’re too kind,” Faulwell said as he slipped into the seat Commander Gomez had vacated.
Soloman smiled. It was times like these—before a mission even started—that he was glad to be a part of the S.C.E. team on the da Vinci. The camaraderie they shared always made completing their tasks much easier than they had any right to be, and he had a feeling this upcoming Borg-related mission would need all the smoothness it could get.
Chapter
3
W ith the prospect of exploring a Borg cube on her day’s agenda, Domenica Corsi had wanted to take a full complement of security personnel with her to the surface of the planet, armed to the teeth with phaser rifles and no-nonsense attitudes. The idea wasn’t at all out of line as far as she was concerned. Venturing inside one of the vessels wasn’t exactly a run-of-the-mill experience, particularly considering the unease and fear that was associated with the race of cybernetic bad guys. It was better to be safe than assimilated, after all, and despite all assurances that the site was safe and secure, Corsi preferred to determine that on her own terms. Besides, those cubes were huge, and there was no telling where a stray drone or two might be lurking in wait.
In the end, however, Gomez granted her a team of two plus herself, citing again that the mission didn’t warrant so much security because there weren’t any living Borg on the cube to worry about. Corsi argued that it was better to have half a dozen armed guards when only three were needed than only have three and discover that you needed more. It seemed logical to her, but Gomez felt that one security person per engineer was sufficient. Corsi didn’t like it, but she’d have to live with the fact that she, her deputy security chief Vance Hawkins, and Tomozuka Kim would be the extent of the away team’s protection.
As the security team materialized on the surface of the planet with Gomez, Stevens, and Blue, Corsi didn’t really expect an army of Borg to be waiting with open arms. But the sight of the massive cube ship’s remains was enough to give her a sense of foreboding and mild anxiety. It was partially embedded in the turf near the edge of a wooded area and towered over them like a forgotten sentinel.
“Well, well, well, it’s about time.”
The loud voice managed to pull Corsi’s attention from the cube to a male Starfleet lieutenant who approached her and the others with a smirk on his slightly stubbled face. Three officers milling about a makeshift camp behind him made no move to follow, but they did look up with interest and appeared relieved that Corsi and the others had arrived. As the lieutenant drew near, Corsi could almost see the word “obnoxious” emblazoned on his forehead in bright red lettering.
“I wasn’t aware that our arrival was so eagerly anticipated,” Gomez said with a smile as she moved past Corsi to greet the man. “I’m Commander Gomez from the da Vinci. This is Lieutenant Commander Corsi, Chief Hawkins, and Crewpersons Stevens, Kim, and Blue,” Gomez said, indicating each of them with a nod.
“Lieutenant Gibson, from the Hood,” the officer said by way of introduction, then glanced down at Pattie. “A Nasat. It’s a pleasure. I’ve never met a member of your species before.”
“I hope your first time was a memorable one,” Pattie said with a tinkle of amusement.
“Believe me, after six hours stewing next to this thing,” Gibson said with a gesture at the cube, “you’ve definitely made my day.” He turned and gestured to the trio behind him. “That’s Ensign Jones, Ensign Abrams, and Chief Featherstone.”
At the mention of the latter name, Stevens perked up. “No way,” he said. His eyes lit up, and he didn’t hold back a grin as he walked past Corsi like she wasn’t even there, moving swiftly toward the other crewmembers from the Hood. “Heart-of-Stone, is that really you?”
Featherstone, an attractive woman with fair skin
and long hair the color of wet rust, looked up at Stevens as he approached and broke into a grin herself. “I’ll be damned. Fabian Stevens, long time no see.”
Corsi felt her jaw tighten as Stevens and Featherstone gave each other a quick friendly embrace before proceeding to babble like two long-lost friends.
“It appears they know each other,” Gomez observed dryly.
“Yes, it does.” The twinge of annoyance in her own voice surprised Corsi, particularly since she knew there was nothing to be annoyed about. They were just two acquaintances, seeing each other after what had apparently been several years. And even if something more had gone on between them, so what? It obviously wasn’t an issue now. But Gomez must have seen something in her expression, because she fixed Corsi with an odd look.
“What?”
“You okay?” Gomez asked.
“Of course,” said Corsi as she met her look. “I just don’t work well with jealousy.”
“I’m shocked,” Gomez said with a smile that didn’t seem entirely there. In fact, her whole expression seemed somewhat clouded to Corsi.
“Don’t worry, Commander,” said Corsi. “I’m not going to march over there and slit her throat.”
Gomez nodded vaguely. “I’d appreciate that.”
“So would I,” Lieutenant Gibson said with a grin. “We kind of like her on the Hood. Uh, Commander Gomez, I take it you’re here to relieve us of Borg babysitting duty?” he asked as though trying to steer the conversation back to more pressing matters.
The Light Page 2
