Resistance - J.M. Dillard [80]
Leary fired twice more, then swayed on her feet; her hand dropped from the trigger, leaving the rifle to dangle from her body by a strap. Crusher caught her before she fell.
“Worf!”
He did not slow his pattern of firing and recalibrating, but his gaze flickered to the side and took in Crusher and Leary—able to stay on her feet only because the doctor wound a supporting arm beneath her shoulders. The Klingon moved immediately in front of them and gestured for Beverly to go to the right, onto the intersecting catwalk.
Desperation encouraged Crusher to move herself and her burden fast, even though Leary’s boots dragged against the deck. Worf followed, still firing at the Borg, his back to Crusher. Pulling Leary with her, Beverly staggered along a good twenty meters until she realized that Worf was no longer firing.
She looked back over her shoulder, awkwardly, trying not to discomfit Leary.
Worf was still behind her, though she could not see Nave and the others. But the Borg had gathered in the intersection of the two walkways. Inexplicably, they turned away from Crusher and Leary, away from Worf, and as a whole began to move toward the source of the firing.
Worf hesitated, then took a step in the direction of the drones, clearly thinking to join his stranded colleagues. At that same instant, Leary fainted, and Crusher sank beneath her weight.
“Worf! Help!”
The Klingon hurried to her side and scooped Leary up into his arms. They moved quickly out of the Borg’s line of sight. At last, Worf stopped and gently lowered Leary to the floor.
Crusher knelt beside her patient and did a quick scan. “It’s blood loss,” she said, and Worf hovered above her. She ferreted the hypo from her medkit. “I can give her some tri-ox to keep her going for a while, but ultimately we’re going to need to get her back to the ship for a transfusion.”
“How much time does she have, Doctor?”
“A few hours.”
Worf gave her a pointed look. “If we do not make it back to the ship in less than two hours, it will not make any difference for her.”
Beverly fell silent. She had been thinking only of her patient, but if the away team was still here after the queen and all the drones awoke, no amount of tri-ox would save Leary.
She emptied the hypo into Leary’s good shoulder, then sat back on her heels and counted the seconds. On five, Leary’s eyes fluttered open.
“Ooh,” she said. “Dizzy.”
“It’ll pass,” Crusher soothed.
Leary blinked a few times, then tried to push herself up. Crusher helped her sit. “You’re right,” Leary said. “That is better.”
“Good. Now, how about you hold still for me this time? I’m going to apply some more stimulation to speed up the healing.”
“Sure.” Leary sighed. She leaned back against the bulkhead.
As Beverly applied the stimulator, she glanced up at Worf, who was repeatedly pressing his combadge and frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I was attempting to contact the other members of the away team. My communicator is inoperative.”
Instinctively, Beverly pressed hers; it, too, was dead. Without thinking, she said at once, “Jean-Luc.” Locutus was of course expecting them—and would do everything possible to make their mission more difficult. Trying to find the missing crew members would cost precious time. And they were separated not only from Nave and the others but from the Enterprise as well.
Worf gave a grim nod. “I would suspect a damping field.”
Beverly looked around her. They had wandered into a more sheltered area, where the open railings were replaced by bulkheads on either side. A bit farther down was an ominous sight: dark, empty alcoves, the alcoves where the drones slept. Would they be returning, she wondered, or were these reserved for the soon-to-be assimilated?
Worf paced warily beside her, his hand resting on his rifle. “I suspect the drones that attacked us had been guarding the queen. And I expect there are many more in her chamber…If we cannot locate the other members of the away team, we will need to come up with a new strategy.”
“I’ve come up with a hypothesis,” Beverly said. “I think that the same mechanism