Resistance - J.M. Dillard [19]
“It was.” He could not prevent his tone from turning dark. “The voice of the Borg became overwhelming, so loud it blotted out all else.”
“What did it say?”
“It said…they said…Well, I heard fragments. They’re building a ship, a cube, near a moon in the far reaches of the Alpha Quadrant. They’re preparing to attack again.”
“Who is their target?”
“Earth.” He gave a single, rueful shake of his head. “They haven’t appreciated our interference with their plans to assimilate and conquer all races. They apparently desire revenge.” He drew a breath. “I…also have acquired an instinct about the Borg. I know—I can’t explain why—where they are. At this very moment, I could give the navigator the course heading that would take us to where the Borg are constructing their ship. I know, with completely certainty, that the Enterprise is the closest starship to the site, and that we have little time before the Borg complete their vessel and launch their attack.
“I notified Admiral Janeway of this. Unfortunately, she has ordered me to wait until Seven of Nine…” He hesitated and shot T’Lana a questioning glance.
“I know who Seven of Nine is,” she responded.
“…until Seven can arrive aboard the Enterprise in order to direct the mission. Admiral Janeway feels that my emotions are too involved, given my experience with the Borg. But here is the problem: I know, without doubt, that by the time Seven of Nine arrives, it will be too late. The Borg will already have attacked.” He fell silent, to give her time to absorb all he had said.
It took her no time at all to react. “You are asking me, if I understand correctly, whether you should disobey the admiral’s orders and pursue the Borg without waiting for Seven of Nine.”
“Yes,” he said. It had been so easy to read Deanna. If she disapproved, there would have been a swift flash in her black eyes, accompanied by a carefully neutral expression before she began to speak in a low, measured tone. If she approved, there would have been an obvious look of sympathy. T’Lana’s expression remained placid, maddeningly inscrutable.
Perhaps, in time, Picard would learn to read her.
“I would suggest,” she said evenly, “that Doctor Crusher perform a psychological evaluation on you and run a series of tests to be sure there is no physical basis for the phenomenon.”
Picard slowly released a breath and, with it, as little defensiveness as he possibly could. “Such an examination was conducted earlier today. You may feel free to consult with the doctor yourself, but I can tell you the results: no mental or physical abnormalities were found. This appears to be the same phenomenon that occurred during my previous encounter with the Borg and their queen.”
“Interesting,” T’Lana murmured. She hesitated, then added, “You are aware, Captain, of the Vulcan mind-meld.”
“I am,” Picard affirmed. “I have participated in one before.” He had not mentioned it because the experience was intensely personal and he did not feel comfortable participating in one with someone who was still a stranger to him. In addition, he did not see the need to use such a highly intimate technique to prove himself to her, when she would most likely see the evidence soon enough.
“Good,” she replied. “I suspected you might think that a mind-meld would allow yourself to ‘prove’ your position to me and justify your not following the admiral’s orders. However, I can only sense what you are thinking and feeling. And it’s clear that you are quite convinced that what you feel is right. I would experience that conviction—but ultimately I would still not be able, after the meld was completed, to say whether your conviction was based in fact or not.”
“But might you not be able to hear the voice of the Borg for yourself?”
“Yes. But only filtered through your consciousness, with your convictions. I would not be able to judge whether I was hearing an outside entity or one created by the workings of your own mind.”
“Understood,” Picard said.