Resistance - J.M. Dillard [35]
Picard had seen his share of Borg cubes, but this one dwarfed them all. It was monstrously vast: next to it, the Enterprise was a gnat, a tiny annoyance easily slapped down.
Of course, Picard realized. This vessel had to be the greatest of them all, for it housed not only the queen but also all the Borg’s determination to finally conquer—no, obliterate—every humanoid race that had fought back, that had prevented the Borg from achieving their ultimate goal of total assimilation. This ship was designed to crush, forever, all resistance.
He glanced at his crew. Nave’s eyes were unabashedly huge, and though T’Lana’s expression remained impassive, she exhibited subtle gestures that, in a Vulcan, were tantamount to a startled gasp: a slight lean forward in her chair while fingering the edge of her console, as if she were fighting the urge to clutch it tightly. The captain felt no sense of satisfaction that she at last saw the empirical proof that he had been right.
As for La Forge and Worf, their faces reflected what Picard himself felt: grim determination and hatred at the sight of an old foe.
Geordi directed his attention away from the ship and back to his console. “Only minimal systems seem to be online. Short-range scanners. Partial weapons. Propulsion is still off-line.” There was relief in his voice.
Picard stared at the screen. Even partial weapons were too much of a threat. “What about shields?”
“Nonoperational at this time, sir.”
“Lieutenant Nave,” Picard said, quiet in the presence of such an awesome and deadly sight, “take us to just within transporter range and no farther. I want to keep as much distance as possible from that vessel.”
“Understood, sir.” The task calmed Nave at once; her wide-eyed astonishment vanished, replaced by focused intensity.
“Mister La Forge.” Picard swiveled toward him. “How long will it take you to locate the queen’s chamber?”
Geordi frowned slightly at his readouts. “I’ll need a few minutes, Captain. That’s a lot of ship there…but she is the only female on board.”
“There are no more than a few dozen drones awake at present.”
“True, sir,” Geordi agreed. “But she’s sleeping…and so are a few hundred drones.”
“Understood.” He pressed his combadge. “Picard to the Armory.”
“Battaglia here, sir.”
“Lieutenant. Assemble your team and prepare to beam over to the Borg vessel. Commander La Forge will be transmitting a schematic of their ship’s interior to you shortly; we’ll try to get you directly into the queen’s chamber.” He paused. “Most of the drones are asleep—hibernating, if you will—and you should encounter no resistance from the others. As we discussed, Lieutenant, no more than four people. It shouldn’t take more than that to accomplish your goal.” And no point in risking more…
“Aye, Captain.” The edge in Battaglia’s tone was unmistakable. It was the sound of someone who had done battle with the Borg before and knew what to expect now.
As Picard closed the channel, Nave looked up at him expectantly.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“It’s…it’s nothing, sir,” she said, flushing as she turned back to the conn.
Picard knew what question had gone unspoken. It would have been unthinkable for her to ask, even more so for Picard to grant the request. But the captain had been in this position before. He knew what the away team was facing. Furthermore, he knew that Nave was friends with them all, and possibly most of all with Lieutenant Battaglia. What Picard was about to do was not exactly within protocol, but then no part of this mission fell within Starfleet standards once he had ignored Admiral Janeway’s orders.
“Counselor, please take the conn,” Picard instructed. This was met with a questioning look from T’Lana and one of great relief from Nave.
“I promise to make this quick,” she said as she stood.
“I will hold you to that, Lieutenant,” he replied. “Five minutes and no more. I need you back at the conn by the time our people are transporting over to the Borg vessel.”
She