The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [83]
Fury and panic crashed through her. They must have discovered a way to prevent assimilation via the [248] virus-bearing nanoprobes. She had looked forward to bringing Janeway and Montgomery into her family as obedient drones, but if they were resistant, they were of no use to her. In fact, they were a very real danger.
Kill them, she ordered her drones.
It was the worst firefight Janeway could remember in her entire life. She hated fighting in close quarters, and it was made much worse in that many of the targets—she couldn’t bring herself to think of them as “people”—wore Starfleet uniforms.
Data was doing what he could. He had achieved moderate success in overriding some of the more basic security measures and had started placing force fields between Janeway and her people and the drones—which was a very good thing indeed, as Janeway saw that the phasers were now set to “kill.”
More than once, she recognized an old acquaintance staring at her with a pale face and blank expression. When she was forced to fire at what had once been Aidan Fletcher, who moments ago had been as human as she, she felt a deep pang of regret that was immediately replaced by anger.
Montgomery was at her side, muttering furiously. He was taking this all personally, she could tell, and she couldn’t blame him. If she knew a few people here, she was willing to bet he knew dozens.
There was noise everywhere, from the screaming of phaser fire to the sound of furniture and equipment being destroyed to the grunts of the Borg as they dropped. Janeway’s breathing was shallow and her hair was falling into her face. It was so hard to make so [249] little headway. The actual distance they had to travel on the map was insignificant, but it might as well have been miles. She thought she understood the feelings of the men in the trenches during World War I, as they clawed for every centimeter.
Data had been here before. Had been the only thing that stood between a driven, ambitious Borg queen out for conquest and an innocent, unaware planet Earth. He had long since turned off his emotion chip and was going on pure android functioning. He was a machine, as the computer with which he was interacting was a machine, and he moved more smoothly in this world than the queen did. He sensed her presence here, clumsy and awkward, with too much attention focused on one place and insufficient attention elsewhere. It was not easy, but he was able to dance with finesse. And the grace of an android among the circuits and wires was the thin thread by which hope hung.
He is knowledgeable and efficient, came Blake’s thoughts. We are unable to completely block him.
Unacceptable, his queen “replied.” His interference is assisting Montgomery and Janeway. They should all be dead by now and instead they are approaching steadily.
Blake’s face was blank, his fingers no longer moving like a musician’s over the pads but spread flat as he physically interacted with the console.
The android has blocked access to many of the security systems, even ones that we had previously controlled.
This couldn’t be happening. Her enemies were a [250] mere handful of humans, a Vulcan, and an android. She had two hundred drones, all excellent physical specimens, at her command. She had the Starfleet Intelligence systems linked to her brain. And yet Data understood better than she how to work with those systems. He was finding ways and paths she had not noticed, and her foes were marching steadily closer.
She shifted, more into the world of the flesh, and looked at the EMH. “You and Blake are the last guardians of my safety,” she said, speaking the words with lips and tongue and voice. “I expect you to do everything possible to defend me.”
Blake, of course, was a drone; he would obey. He had to. But the EMH had a will of its own. She saw it lick its lips in a human expression of distress, and added, “You will be wiped the minute they have extracted all the data they need from you. They will not even let you serve on Lynaris Prime, as they will deem you a traitor. Your