Resistance - J.M. Dillard [59]
His expression hardened, and he turned his gaze away.
“It doesn’t matter. Come to me as the individual Jean-Luc Picard…or as a drone.” Her amusement returned. “You’ve already done most of the work for us this time, very thoughtful. Is this the work of your talented Doctor Crusher?” She stroked his arm. “You see, I learned many things from you when you were last Locutus. I knew you loved her, even then, though you would not admit it even to yourself. But in the end, you will come to me.”
“Never willingly,” he snarled. “As you saw, I would rather die.”
Her tone cooled abruptly; she lifted her chin, regal, haughty. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, the destruction of your ship and your world is assured.”
“It is your ship,” he said with venom, “your world, that will be destroyed.”
She gave a short, harsh laugh at his bravado, but the liquid metal eyes flashed with anger. “Did you not learn from Wolf 359? Do you want to see it repeated to understand?”
“We are wiser,” he countered. “My people know you are here. Even if you were to kill me, they know what to do. They won’t stop until you are destroyed.”
“Ah, yes.” She tilted her head, her tone mocking. “The brave crew of the Enterprise. We expect them to follow you, of course. And you will help us to be ready for them. I have created a special directive just for you. You will be my guardian, my protector.”
Her voice softened, grew soothing. “Come willingly, Jean-Luc. Make your people lay down their weapons. All this thrashing, all this fighting, all this resistance is so…futile.” She leaned down and ran her finger along the line of his jaw; he shuddered at the act. “We could make this pleasant, you know.” She paused and brought her lips close to his ear; her breath was cool and soft. “It is pleasant for you, isn’t it, Locutus? To be home, with no cares, no decisions. To truly belong…”
His lips twisted with disgust. “Locutus is not here.”
Unruffled, she tilted her face and studied him with gleaming eyes. “Oh, but he will be.” She straightened. “Make your decision, Jean-Luc Picard. You could be with me willingly and retain a degree of autonomy. Once I am sure of your loyalty, you could even rule beside me. You humans speak of pleasure, of ecstasy, but you cannot imagine the thrill of such power, the utter joy that would be yours…” Her tone flattened. “Or you can be another drone. You can have your will stripped from you and suffer, as you did before, with your poor little mind ‘violated’ by mine.”
“Go to hell,” Picard said.
Her chin lifted sharply at his words, her eyes narrowing as she took a step back from the table.
“You thought to kill me, fool. Do you think I am so stupid as to let it happen again? That was your first, greatest mistake, and your decision now will be your second. I must finish my genesis, but when I and my ship are ready, I will rise. And when I do, you will be waiting for me—as Locutus. Together, we will tear apart your beloved Enterprise, killing your crew—except your precious Beverly. She, I will have you turn into a drone. Then, together, we will tear through the Alpha Quadrant. We will not bother pausing to assimilate a single being. We will head straight for Earth and annihilate your planet. And when your Federation manages to regroup and comes to render aid—too late to do any good—that is when the fun will really begin.”
She did not need to gesture or call to the drones. She drew them to her side with a thought. Even Picard felt the pull—and with it, a spasm of pure horror in the pit of his stomach. He looked up to see a pair of drones, one on either side, above him; he could not have said whether they were the same ones that had attacked him in the birthing chamber. One reached for the wall and retrieved a metal instrument: a long, needle-fine drill. The other held a pair of delicate pincers.
Picard closed his eyes as the tip of the drill found his right temple and for a fleeting instant rested there, cold, unrelentingly sharp.
Not again, not again.
He did not let himself scream. The sensation was that of a pinch, then a sting