The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [82]
“That’s odd,” she said. “Why isn’t the queen blocking our transporter signals?”
“She wants us to come,” Montgomery said. “I know her, Janeway. She’s arrogant. She wants us to come and try to get her so she can have the pleasure of defeating us.”
Janeway looked at him sharply. “Sounds a bit personal.”
He grimaced. “It is. And we’ll leave it at that. Regardless, we’re walking into a trap.”
Janeway smiled. “She thinks we’ll be assimilated the minute we materialize, and she’ll have a whole new set of drones to play with. We may not have many advantages, but we’ve got this one.”
To Kaz, who was manning the transporter, she gave the order: “Energize.”
They materialized with phasers drawn, a wise precaution as their welcoming committee consisted of four drones. The away team fired, but one blast caught Tuvok in the chest. He staggered and went down.
Janeway and her team continued to fire. Almost at once she noticed two things: First, these drones appeared to have no personal shields, adaptive or otherwise, and second, the “full stun” which would have dropped an ordinary human instantly seemed to have [246] less effect. She had to fire twice, point blank, before her target dropped.
In a few seconds, the firefight was over. Chakotay was already bending over Tuvok and pressing a hypospray to his throat to revive him. “I’m surprised they used stun,” he said, as he helped the Vulcan to his feet.
Data was at the controls, already beginning to link with the system. The lights on his exposed skull flashed green and red.
“Processing ...” he said in a dull voice. Then, “She has full command of every system in the building. I am attempting to sever her control. I do not know how successful I will be.”
“She knows we’re here,” said Seven, “and she’s probably also aware we haven’t been assimilated.”
Montgomery nodded. “The drones may try to assimilate us the old-fashioned way,” she said. “We won’t be under her command, as the modified nanoprobes will block our access to the hive mind, but I don’t relish the thought of implants sprouting out of me.” He glanced at Seven. “No offense.”
Seven arched an eyebrow. “None taken.”
“Data,” said Janeway, “can you locate Covington’s office and show us how to get there?”
Data’s expression was fixed, his body stiff, but he entered the request. A map appeared on one of the many screens. Montgomery stepped forward and touched a few pads.
“We’re here,” he said, stabbing with his index finger. “Her office is here.”
“That doesn’t look too bad,” Paris said. “A turbolift ride and a few turns down a corridor.”
[247] “When she controls the turbolift and has drones positioned every step of the way,” said Chakotay, “it’s pretty bad.”
Not even Paris could think of a smart reply to that one.
Covington felt as if she were straddling two worlds. One was the world of the flesh, in which she could see her colleagues and speak her orders. The other was the world of the machine, with its sparks and data streams and bombardment of information. She was starting to understand how to maneuver in this strange place between worlds, though it was difficult.
A sudden jolt, and information was abruptly in her brain. “They’re in the control room,” she said aloud. “The android has accessed the computer. He’s fighting me.”
The drone that had once answered to the human designation of Trevor Blake turned slowly toward his Creatress. She sensed his thoughts as surely as if he spoke them: We will not permit him to gain control.
The EMH hovered nearby, consulting his medical tricorder and occasionally clucking his tongue. But he knew better than to voice his apprehension. This was it. This was where they made their last stand, where they held off attack until the queen gained enough strength, enough experience, that she was able to take full and undisputed control of the planet.
Another jolt of information, this time painful, like a needle had been jabbed behind her ear. “They are not being assimilated,” she said softly, puzzled. “They are not even in environmental