Resistance - J.M. Dillard [64]
“The captain did order us to do so,” Worf said. She had guessed right: he had wanted to discuss precisely this matter. And given his uneasy relationship with the Vulcan counselor, he could hardly discuss it with her.
“But you know what would happen if we did,” Beverly countered. She could not be neutral on the subject; she could not even try. She had worried earlier about questioning her professionalism, which led to where they were in this moment. She would not let appearances keep her from speaking her mind. She was a Starfleet officer, and Worf was now her commander. She would abide by his decision, but she would not shy away from the conversation this time.
Worf sighed. “The Borg’s engines will come online. They will be able to attack and to pursue us and any other vessel or planet they choose.” He paused a long moment; his gaze dropped as he uncomfortably shifted his weight. “I…made an error of judgment once before, because I followed my heart instead of my orders. My decision cost many lives.” He looked up at her. “I do not want to make the same mistake again.”
“I understand completely,” Beverly responded. “But, in all honesty, this is not the same situation, Worf. It’s true you’re the captain’s loyal friend—”
He began to speak, but Beverly waved him silent.
“I know, my heart is involved here, too,” she said. “I want to save him more than anyone. But I think that, when the captain gave the order to leave him behind, he was thinking only of the good of the crew.”
Worf gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “But I must consider the greater good. If we do not stop the Borg now…”
Beverly let the question hang in the air between them. At last, she asked quietly, “And if the ship can’t handle another encounter?”
“We will have tried,” Worf said. His gaze was confident now that he had made his decision. “I do not relish disobeying a direct order from the captain. But I have an idea of a way we can…circumvent his directive.”
Beverly’s lips broke into a grin.
Worf did not return the smile, of course, but the lines in his face softened. “Thank you, Doctor.” He paused. “Is Lieutenant Nave recovering?”
“Yes. She just had a few cracked ribs. I expect to be releasing her back to duty in the next half hour.”
“Good,” Worf said. “She will be heading security for the away team to rescue the captain.”
“I’ll tell her to contact you,” Beverly responded. As the Klingon turned toward the exit, she added, “Before you go, Worf. Since it looks like we’re headed back to the Borg ship, I’ve been doing some research, and I think I can come up with something to neutralize the queen and give us a chance to destroy the cube.”
He frowned. “Neutralize?”
“It’s…a theory I want to test. I’m sure the queen has metamorphosed from a Borg drone because of a feminizing hormone. If I can develop a chemical to counteract that hormone before we reach the Borg ship, then we might be able to transform the queen back to a drone…”
Worf shrugged. “There is a simpler way, Doctor.”
Killing, of course. Beverly briefly averted her gaze. “I know. But…I can’t help thinking I’m on the verge of a breakthrough here. Call it instinct. If we can transform the queen back into a drone, then…then there might be a way to prevent the transformation from occurring again. Ever. It would send the Borg into disarray. Weaken them.”
Worf’s brows raised; she had caught his interest. “That,” he said, “sounds like a very worthy pursuit, Doctor. If there is any assistance that you need…”
“You’ll be the first to know,” she said. “Thank you, Worf.” She was referring to more than just his offer of help; she was thinking of Jean-Luc as she said it.
He seemed to understand. He hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly, quietly said, “Thank you, Doctor.” Then he turned and was gone.
Impatient, Sara Nave ignored the doctor’s orders to remain on her diagnostic bed and wait until Crusher came to release her. Instead, Nave sat up—gingerly, because her two cracked ribs, although healed, felt stiff—and swung herself around so that she could stand. Holding her tender side,