The Farther Shore

by Christie Golden

  “I have to do it now,” she continued, recovering.

  “The doctor will monitor my physical reactions and I’m certain that you will do the same for the information download. Proceed to link me with the computers.”

  He nodded, looking distressed, and began.

  • • •

  Montgomery was furious. Right under his nose, dammit. They’d zipped out right under his nose without a by-your-leave. All three prisoners and the doctor who had, obviously, been a part of the scheme.

  He couldn’t afford to publicize the escape. He had a pretty good idea where they’d gone anyway. He was just about to contact Watson when a fresh new series of alarms started going off.

  He knew what they meant—there had been unauthorized phaser fire in the facility.

  “Location of phaser fire,” he ordered the computer. It gave him a list of no fewer than seventeen instances in fourteen different places scattered throughout the facility. What the hell was going on?

  “Casualties?”

  “No casualties reported.”

  Confused, Montgomery repeated, “No injuries?”

  “Negative.”

  “Who fired the phasers?”

  “There is no record of any registered individual firing phasers in the facility.”

  This just kept getting stranger. Doggedly, Montgomery continued, trying to get some answers that made a modicum of sense.

  “Did the phasers malfunction?”

  “Negative.”

  For a moment, Montgomery simply sat in his chair and gaped. Give him an enemy, a weapon, and a clear shot, and he knew what to do. But this—how did you fight nonsense?

  Then he knew. “Any life signs in the area in which the phaser fire occurred?”

  “Negative.”

  Holograms. Holograms everywhere, in one of the most well secured Starfleet facilities on the planet—hell, in the quadrant. He stabbed a button with a forefinger.

  “Attention staff! The threat we face is holographic in nature. Repeat, it is a holographic threat. Respond accordingly.”

  They were all good people, they’d know what to do. Catching photonic beings was not his responsibility right now. He didn’t know who was involved in this—Baines, the Doctor, Kaz, Janeway—but his primary task was to stop the Borg virus. And that meant finding out where his escaped prisoners had gone.

  “Computer, get me Commander Watson, stationed aboard the U.S.S. Voyager.”

  • • •

  Harry Kim froze when the light started to blink. Someone was trying to contact the ship.

  If they had just waited a couple more seconds…Frantically he finished the repair work and hit the button. A holographic image of Commander Watson materialized in the command chair, and Harry ducked out of sight.

  “Watson,” came Montgomery’s voice.

  Harry closed his eyes. They had expected this at some point, but so soon? He whispered instructions to the hologram.

  “Yes, sir,” said “Watson.” “What is it you require, Admiral?”

  “Has there been any attempt to board Voyager?”

  Harry whispered. The hologram sounded puzzled as it replied, “Negative, sir. Should we anticipate such an attempt?”

  There was silence. Harry wished he could see Montgomery’s face. It might give him at least some clue as to how far the admiral’s suspicions had progressed.

  “You might have been boarded and be unaware of it,” Montgomery said at last.

  “I doubt that very much, sir,” the hologram of Watson said, sounding indignant.

  “Well, let me put it to you this way. Seven of Nine, Icheb, and the Doctor have escaped. To top it off, Dr. Kaz has mysteriously disappeared as well. I think he’s with them.”

  Well, now Harry had his answer. It sure as hell wasn’t the one he wanted.

  “I believe they’ll be heading to Voyager first. The Borg need to regenerate and it’s familiar territory to them. How they got Kaz on their side I don’t know, but—Tell you what. I’m coming up and together we can prepare a nice little surprise for them.”

  “Sir, I don’t think that’s—”

  “Montgomery out.”

  Harry slammed his fist on the floor and swore. “Kim to Janeway,” he said. “We’re going to have company.”

  Chapter 19

  WHEN HE MATERIALIZED aboard Voyager, Montgomery found that he was on the receiving end of the surprise. He was greeted not by Watson and his guards, but by Admiral Janeway and Commanders Chakotay and Tuvok. All three had phasers aimed at him. Instinctively Montgomery reached for his own weapon, but it was gone.

  “I’m afraid it’s still in the pattern buffer,” Janeway said apologetically.

  “I don’t believe this,” said Montgomery, wearily. “I just don’t believe it. Don’t tell me, let me guess—Kaz and the Borg are here with you, too, and the Doctor’s in sickbay.”

  “Correct,” said Tuvok. “Commander Data has joined us as well.”

  “Doctor to Janeway.”

  “Go ahead, Doctor.”

  “We’ve got some developments here you need to see.”

  “Acknowledged. We’re on our way.” She gestured with the phaser. “That means you, too, Admiral.”

  “Kathryn,” said Montgomery, his voice oddly quiet.

  “What are you trying to do? You all have illustrious careers ahead of you and you’re throwing it away. You’re dragging Data and Kaz, good people, into your—your delusion. We can end this now. I’ve got no personal quarrel with you.”

  Janeway smiled. “Believe it or not, although we’ve clashed quite a bit recently, I have no personal quarrel with you, either. We’ve got the same goal, and my people may just have given us all a chance to achieve that goal. Let’s go.”

  • • •

  “What have you got, Doctor?” Janeway asked as she and her companions entered sickbay. The Doctor barely spared Montgomery a glance. Kaz looked at him, then down at the floor.

  “What we’ve got,” the Doctor said grimly, “is a Borg queen.”

  “What?” Both admirals spoke at the same time.

  “We have been able to determine that the virus is spread by nanoprobes,” said Data. “If an organic creature comes into contact with Borg debris, the virus—the nanoprobes—enters its system. Until recently, the virus has lain dormant. It requires an active Borg signal and a command in order to become activated. We believe that only the Borg queen can issue such a command—and that such a command has, indeed, been given and is continuing to be broadcast.”

  “Further,” said Kaz, “I believe that the queen has been trying to contact Seven of Nine.”

  “Dammit, I told you this was going to happen!” cried Montgomery.

  “But how can this be?” asked Chakotay, who along with everyone else was ignoring Montgomery’s outburst. “We left the queen in pretty bad shape on the other side of the galaxy. Surely we’d know it if they were anywhere in the vicinity. The Borg are many things, but they’re hardly sneaky.”

  “And yet all the evidence supports the theory that there is indeed a Borg queen in the Alpha Quadrant,” Data said. “Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

  “One thing that’s stumping us is how slowly the assimilation is progressing,” said Kaz.

  “Assimilation is normally nearly instantaneous,” said Icheb. “It’s strange that the Borg would construct a virus that takes so much time to take effect.”

  “Agreed,” said Seven. “It is inefficient, and therefore, atypical of the Borg.”

  Montgomery had remained silent. His eyes darted from one person to another. Janeway hoped that he wasn’t so busy being indignant that he wasn’t listening.

  “Dr. Kaz,” he said, “why are you here?”

  “The same reason we’re all here, including Commander Data,” said Kaz, quietly but firmly. “I’m here because this is where I can do the most good.”

  “How much have you learned sinc
e you…you left?”

  “More than we’ve learned since the first report came in,” said Kaz. “If I may be honest, sir, I believe that if we had asked Seven, Icheb, the Doctor, and Data to help at the outset, we’d have an answer by now.”

  “Will we get one in time?” There was a softness to Montgomery’s voice…almost a pleading note.

  Kaz swallowed. He had just opened his mouth to reply when Harry Kim’s voice interrupted him.

  “Admiral, a message came in earlier. I’m embarrassed to say that I downloaded it and forgot about it, but—”

  “What is it, Harry?” Janeway asked.

  “It’s from Peregrine.”

  Everyone in the room, except for Montgomery and perhaps Data, tensed. “Put it through down here at once.”

  “Aye, Admiral.”

  “What’s Peregrine?” asked Montgomery. Tuvok kept a phaser on him, but it was clear it was no longer necessary. The admiral followed them to the Doctor’s console.

  “Peregrine is the code name of a very mysterious friend of my Ops officer,” said Janeway, her eyes on the dark screen. “We don’t know who it is, but so far, he or she has been helpful indeed. Wonder how Peregrine knew to find Harry here?”

  Everyone fell silent as the message began to scroll across the screen.

  Hello again Lieutenant. I have very important information for you.

  “Try to trace it,” said Montgomery. For some reason, he whispered.

  “Can’t,” Janeway hissed back.

  The virus that is causing mass assimilation on the planet is caused by a nanoprobe. It can only be activated by the express command of a Borg queen. By utilizing Royal Protocol—

  Before anyone could stop him, Montgomery reached down and touched a few pads. At once, the message blipped out.

  “What the hell did you just do?” cried Chakotay.

  “I was trying to conduct a trace!” Montgomery yelled back. “As you should have been doing. Unless we know who this mysterious Falcon is, we can’t know if he’s feeding us false information or—”

  “Harry, can you get it back?” asked Janeway.

  Harry shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “It’s gone. I wasn’t able to get a download of it either.”

  “Great,” said Chakotay. “Now we’ll never know what Peregrine was trying to say.”

  “This is all complete and utter crap,” said Montgomery. “That nonsense about Royal Protocol—If you want me to believe you, you’ll have to come up with more impressive proof than a Starfleet etiquette book!”

  As Janeway whirled to give Montgomery a piece of her mind, she saw Seven of Nine standing stock still, as if frozen in place. Her full lips were slightly parted, her blue eyes wide.

  “Seven,” said Janeway, tensely. “Seven, what is it?”

  • • •

  Libby swore. Just when someone was actually, finally reading the message, the antitracing logarithm terminated it. Some idiot had tried a trace, even though she’d said repeatedly not to do so. She could try again or abandon the effort. If it fell into the wrong hands—

  “Then they already know,” she said aloud, answering her own question. Determinedly, Libby sent the message again.

  * * *

  “Admiral,” came Harry’s voice, “Peregrine’s resending. I’m transferring it to you.”

  “Good job, Harry,” Janeway said, absently. “Seven—”

  Seven opened her mouth to speak. Chakotay and Montgomery were reading the message.

  “The term Royal Protocol does not in this instance refer to the Starfleet manual,” Seven said, trying to keep a semblance of calm. “It is a Borg term. It refers to the computer program required in order to create a replacement queen if she has been terminated.”

  Janeway felt the blood drain from her own face, knew that she was as pale and stunned-looking as Seven, perhaps more so.

  Seven cleared her throat and continued. “This would explain why the assimilation process is taking so long. Someone here is trying to create a queen and they do not have all the necessary information to do it swiftly.”

  Montgomery swore. “I bet I know who it is, too,” he said. “All that sitting alone in the dark, claiming she’s just naturally pale—”

  “Admiral,” said Chakotay, his voice deep with anger. “Listen to this. Commander Brian Grady and Borg specialist Trevor Blake have been conspiring to create a queen—and that queen is Director of Covert Operations Brenna Covington of Starfleet Intelligence.”

  For a few seconds, stunned silence filled the room. Everyone was too shocked. This was abominable, incomprehensible. And yet, as Data had said, all the evidence supported it.

  “Put that damn phaser away,” Montgomery said to Tuvok, breaking the silence. “I believe you now. I’ve never trusted Brenna Covington, never, and I think she’s fully capable of this. But Grady and Blake—God. I wonder how deep this goes?”

  “Let’s find out,” Janeway said. “Harry, I don’t suppose you can reply to Peregrine this time?”

  “He’s opened the communication this time, so yes, I can reply. But I’m not to attempt a trace. What should I tell him?”

  Janeway looked over at Montgomery. He grinned, fiercely. She saw the man who had helped win the Dominion War emerge, and was glad of it.

  “Tell him we’re going to take the bitch down.”

  • • •

  Together, the two Klingon women poured water over the fire and heaped soil on it. B’Elanna was sorry to see the cheery flames go, but knew she’d sleep better tonight than she had since the whole ordeal began. Miral’s cave was filled with furs gathered from over a year’s worth of kills. There was a cache of food and a water gourd. Compared to the existence B’Elanna had managed to eke out, this was a palace.

  As Miral had predicted, the paste she had applied to her daughter’s wounds was falling off. The injuries felt better and were already closing cleanly. B’Elanna would still rather have had the Doctor, but she’d see him soon enough.

  Miral extinguished the torch, and the darkness was almost absolute in the cave.

  “Tell me more about the Klingons you met in the Delta Quadrant,” her mother said as they both lay down on the thick, soft furs.

  B’Elanna smiled in the darkness. “They thought Miral was a child of prophecy,” she said. “They called her the Kuvah’Magh.”

  “The Savior,” said Miral.

  Torres recounted the incident. Lying in the darkness, speaking in soft tones, it felt to her like this was the slumber party that human girls had. It was a tradition Miral had not encouraged, but was now, all unaware, participating in.

  “When Miral’s cells helped cure them, they agreed that she was the Savior. Tom even wanted us to think about calling her Kuvah’Magh.” She smiled to herself. “He calls her that as a pet name. We both wanted her named after you.”

  Miral was silent. Torres wondered if she had somehow offended her mother, and then Miral said, “It is much joy to me to know that my name will live on in such a precious child. I want to see this bat’leth the Klingon captain gave her. I am sure it is beautiful indeed.”

  Her heart full, Torres rolled over and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  The low growl woke her up.

  She stayed still, her heart pounding, trying to ascertain if the noise she had heard was real or imaginary. It came again, and she heard the soft noises of Miral moving on the furs next to her.

  “It is a grikshak,” said Miral in the faintest of whispers, her lips right at B’Elanna’s ear. “Here.”

  B’Elanna felt the wooden shaft of a spear being thrust into her hand. She swallowed hard. Whatever was out there was big. At Miral’s touch on her shoulder, she began to crawl forward as quietly as possible toward the front of the cave.

  By the faint light of the stars, B’Elanna could see the creature snuffling about the campsite. Her mother was right. It was indeed a grikshak, much bigger than the one she had killed earlier. It was hard to tell the color in the dim
light, but when it moved its head B’Elanna saw the tusks. A mature female, then.

  “Stay quiet,” came Miral’s voice in her ear. “It will not attack unless it knows we are here.”

  Torres realized she was shaking. Her stomach clenched. It had been hard enough to kill the young female, but to take on an adult one—

  The grikshak froze. Its nostrils twitched, and slowly it turned its massive head to the cave.

  “We fight together, daughter,” said Miral, and charged.

  Chapter 20

  Message received and understood, Peregrine. We have several people working on finding a cure for the virus and they feel they are close to a solution. Now that we know where the threat lies, finding a cure will be our secondary goal. Admiral Montgomery says to tell you, and I quote, “We’re going to take the bitch down.”

  “Yes!” Libby cried, pounding her fist on the table so hard it startled a napping Rowena. Quickly she sent a reply:

  You may trust Assistant Director Aidan Fletcher. He is prepared to assist you from inside Starfleet Intelligence. You need to be aware that it is highly likely, though not yet confirmed, that there are Borg nanoprobes carrying the virus scattered throughout the complex. Anyone who ventures inside could become infected. I am sending you two sets of coordinates, those of Starfleet Intelligence’s command center and those of Covington’s own office. Utilize whichever location seems wisest to you. Take all precautions.

  An instant later, she received a response.

  How do you know we can trust Fletcher? If what you’re saying is true, then Covington, Grady, and Blake are involved. Who’s to say Fletcher isn’t?

  You’ll have to believe me, Lieutenant Kim. I haven’t led you astray thus far. A.D. Fletcher is trustworthy and has been brought up to speed. You’re wasting time. She hesitated, and then wrote, Godspeed.

  She severed the connection. He would not be able to get in touch with her again unless she initiated the contact. Libby wouldn’t know if they were successful until someone deigned to let her know. This was the part that chafed—letting others go in and do the tough stuff.