Part 29 (1/2)

In a level, dignified voice, she said, ”It's a d.a.m.ned good thing you switched to the command track, Captain. Because if this was you as a counselor, you suck at it.”

”That is called insubordination, Lieutenant. And if you keep it up, it will get you a court-martial.”

The security chief smirked. ”Good to know. Now, at least I have something to shoot for.”

Axion was windless and silent beneath the endless night of deep s.p.a.ce. Erika Hernandez drifted alone through the motionless air that surrounded the city-s.h.i.+p inside its invisible force field.

Darkness and starlight were reflected to perfection on the brilliant facades of the metropolis, which gleamed with its own inner light. Hernandez felt the awareness of the millions of Caeliar who dwelled in the city. Now conscious of her bond with the gestalt, they s.h.i.+ed from her in subtle ways. They would never deny another mind in their communion, but many of them radiated discomfort at the discovery that it now included a non-Caeliar.

As meticulous as the Caeliar kept their city, to Hernandez, it still felt less antiseptic than either of the Starfleet vessels she'd visited in the past several hours. Inside the sheltering embrace of the city, she caught the fragrance of green plants-gra.s.s and trees, bushes, flowers-and the rich scent of fertile earth. Water still danced in the fountains.

None of that distracted her from her search.

Inyx had left the Quorum hall before she'd finished her proposal to the tanwa-seynorral. As soon as he'd gone, he'd started masking his thoughts from the gestalt, withdrawing from contact. Apparently, the Caeliar appreciate privacy on a personal level as well as a cultural one, Hernandez realized. Nonetheless, she suspected that she knew where he would be.

She was correct.

She descended without a sound, her posture relaxed, legs crossed at the ankles, arms at her sides. Air displaced by her pa.s.sage tousled her mane of dark hair and fluttered the fabric of her Starfleet uniform. For the sake of nostalgia, she alighted on the glossy black water of the reflecting pool by the petrified tree. Inyx stood beneath the tree's bare boughs, in whose ragged shadows he seemed to have partially vanished.

Without causing so much as a ripple, Hernandez walked calmly across the pool to the tree's small island at the far end. She bounded onto the isle with her last step and landed with balletic grace in front of Inyx.

Feigning boredom, he said, ”I wondered how long it would take you to master that trick.”

”Not long,” she said. ”Less than eight hundred years.” She c.o.c.ked a teasing eyebrow. ”Told you I was a fast learner.”

”About some things,” he said.

She ambled past him and made a slow circle of the tree, letting her hand play across its gla.s.sy, obsidian surface. ”I've never seen you in such a hurry to leave the Quorum hall,” she said. ”Did my proposal bother you that much?”

”I made my objections to the gestalt,” he said, and then he added, with an extra degree of sarcasm, ”But of course, you know that, since you are, apparently, completely attuned to the gestalt and can share in it whenever you please.”

She took his rebuke in stride, because she had already sensed his pride in her accomplishment. ”I'm sorry I lied to you, Inyx,” she said. ”But your people aren't the only ones who value privacy.”

He made a derogatory huffing noise inside his air sacs, which puffed up around his shoulders. ”There is a difference, Erika, between privacy and secrets-and between secrets and deceptions.” His ire dissipated. ”What's done is past. I'm more concerned about your next potentially fatal mistake.”

”I know it's a risk, but I think it's worth taking,” she said. ”And the Quorum agrees with me.”

”By a narrow margin,” Inyx replied.

”I'm certain it will work,” she said.

”Certainty is not the same thing as infallibility,” he said. ”If you're wrong, or if you've underestimated the Borg's capacity for adaptation, you might be condemning this galaxy and many others to aeons of oppression.”

”If I'm wrong-if I fail-I'm counting on you to persuade the Quorum to honor the spirit of our agreement and protect the galaxy from the Borg.”

He said with grim regret, ”I can't promise that, Erika.”

”Promise me that you'll try,” she said.

With a small bow from his waist, he said, ”You have my solemn pledge. I will try.” Melancholy seeped into his voice. ”I wish it didn't have to be you taking this risk.”

”Well, it's not like anyone else is in a position to do it,” she said. ”You sure can't, and neither can those stars.h.i.+p crews.” She shook her head. ”Believe me, if there was another way, I'd take it.”

”If you do not wish to make such a sacrifice, why go?”

”Because my people need me, Inyx. They need me to step up and do something no one else can. And all those people trapped in the Collective need me even more than the Federation does. I failed a lot of people when I let the Romulans get the drop on me and destroy my convoy. I led my crew into captivity, and then I failed to control them, and millions of your people died. All these centuries, I've been living with those failures, with no way to atone for any of them. Now, I might have that chance.”

Inyx pa.s.sed a long moment in somber reflection.

”The consequences of failure seem clear enough,” he said. ”But what would be the price of success? If your plan goes as intended, what will become of you, Erika? Will you ever come back to Axion? Will I ever see you again?”

Unable to hold back the tears welling in her eyes, she replied, ”I don't know.”

”Then perhaps you've finally received your wish,” he said, with a tenor of defeat. ”You'll finally be free of Axion...forever.”

She placed herself directly in front of him. ”Maybe,” she said. ”But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.”

With both hands, she reached up and gently pulled Inyx's ever-frowning visage down to hers. ”I probably won't get a chance to do this later.”

She kissed his high, leathery forehead with tender affection. ”Good-bye, Inyx.”

28.

”Whatever Captain Hernandez is planning, it involves the Borg, and that means it has the potential to go horribly wrong.”

Picard stood at the head of the table in the Enterprise's observation lounge and watched the seated Captains Riker and Dax nod at what he had just said. At his invitation, they had beamed over to meet with him in private aboard the Enterprise, so that they could confer without risking the interception of their conversation by the Borg-or by the Caeliar.

Exasperated, Dax replied, ”You want a contingency plan for what to do after we're surrounded by more than four thousand Borg cubes?”

”Better than not having one,” Riker said, scratching pensively at his salt-and-pepper-bearded chin.

Dax blinked, conceding the point, and replied, ”For that matter, we'll need one even if she succeeds. I mean, have we even thought about how we're supposed to repatriate a quarter-billion ex-Borg from across the galaxy?”

”We're getting ahead of ourselves,” Picard said. ”Frankly, as powerful as the Caeliar seem to be, I doubt they-or any other ent.i.ty, short of the single-letter variety who shall not be named-can effect such a change by force.”

”There's another scenario to consider,” Riker said. ”What if they succeed but only temporarily? The Borg Collective is based on adaptation. Even if she frees all the drones from the Collective's control, who's to say it'll be a permanent s.h.i.+ft?”

Nodding, Picard said, ”Those are all valid concerns. In success or in failure, Captain Hernandez's proposal-what little we know of it-will present us with staggering logistical and tactical crises. In just over eight hours, the first wave of the Borg armada will reach us. Whatever backup plan we intend to prepare, it needs to be ready by then.”

Riker leaned forward and folded his hands together. ”If this turns into a shooting match, I think the Caeliar can take care of themselves,” he said.

”Against these odds?” asked Dax.