Shadows of the Night, Part XIX

"Let's get this started," Riker announced as he slid into his seat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by Picard, Luke, Geordi, and Seven. "Things are very busy so let's cut to the chase."

"We've completed the invasive program," Laforge remarked. "We've run dozens of simulations and frankly, I don't see how it could fail."

"Good," Riker replied, now turning his attention to his former captain. "What of the array?"

"Another week," Picard replied. "Hopefully the situation will remain the same during that time." He was referring to the fairly recent lull in Borg activity in this area. Whether this was due to their invasion of the wormhole or the recent victory the fleet had in this area was unknown, but no one felt like looking this particular gift horse in the mouth. Everyone knew exactly what Picard was referring to though; if the Borg sent a sizeable fleet like the one that overwhelmed Wormhole Base, a week from now there could be no Federation left to save.

"Very well," Riker replied. "Let's hope that in a week this war will be over for good." He started to get up.

"There's one other thing, Will," Picard said quickly, and Riker returned to his seat. "I'll need to go there personally to upload the file. I'll need a ship to get there, perhaps the Callisto-"

"No," Riker remarked, "I can't afford to lose a single starship, not with the new Borg tactics. We'll have to send a shuttle."

"That'll take time," Laforge remarked. "You almost have to start now."

"I'm sorry," Riker replied, "But we can't take the risk."

"Perhaps there is an alternative," Seven remarked, speaking for the first time during this meeting. "Voyager has joined the fleet has it not?"

"Yes," Geordi replied. "They've been here for a couple of weeks."

"I believe Mr. Paris and Mr. Kim have retrofitted the Delta Flyer with a hyperdrive, one that could get the ambassador there much faster than a standard shuttlecraft."

"I'm not familiar with the Delta Flyer," Luke remarked.

"You're not the only one," Riker replied. "What is it?"

"An oversized shuttle Voyager assembled in the Delta Quadrant," Seven informed them. "A very efficient ship, I think it would be well suited to the task."

Riker turned to Picard. "Satisfactory?"

"It'll have to due," Picard remarked. "I just hope it's as capable a ship as you say it is."

"Mr. Paris is nothing if not surprising," Seven replied.

Two days later, Picard sat on board the Delta Flyer, agreeing largely with that assessment. He watched with quiet interest as the young man piloted the ship with a casual ease. A very interesting change, Picard thought, toggles and dials instead of touchpanels. Seven had mentioned he had an interest in vintage twentieth century mechanics. "You were the one who designed this?" Picard asked to break the silence.

Paris laughed a little self-consciously. "I know it may not look like much, but she'll knock your socks off believe me."

"On the contrary, I'm quite impressed. Voyager certainly didn't lack for comforts on away missions in the Delta Quadrant."

Paris nodded as he checked over their course. "She hasn't seen much use lately. Wasn't exactly high on the list for receiving a hyperdrive."

"I imagine not. I'm surprised she was upgraded at all. Many shuttles were de-commissioned rather than the lengthy refitting process, I find it difficult picturing Admiral Jellico authorizing this."

Paris laughed nervously. "Yes, I'd find it difficult too."

Picard raised an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

Paris wore a tight smile and refused to look in Picard's direction. "No, I don't think you do."

"Fair enough." Picard watched the passing form of hyperspace for a short time, but that only made him think about the mission, and the risk. There's still a long way to go, he thought, best not to get worked up already. "Are you any relation to Admiral Paris?"

Paris seemed a little uncomfortable. "Yes, he's my father."

"Strange," Picard said. "I've met him a few times, he looks rather different than you."

"Well looks aren't where it ends," Paris replied as he checked the scope for any signs of Borg. It was unlikely, but better safe than sorry and all that. "I doubt he'd approve of this," he said, indicating the Delta Flyer.

"Perhaps," Picard said, "But perhaps not. It is an impres-"

There was a small jerk as starlines appeared and normal space with its network of white pinpricks returned. "What's happened?" Picard asked as Paris grabbed the controls on instinct.

"Interdiction field," he said through gritted teeth. "Hang on, I'm going to see if I can get out of it."

Picard looked over the instruments as Paris pushed the engines to full power, racing to escape the gravity well and return to hyperspace. "Star Destroyer," he said with disbelief as he saw the familiar wedge-shape, the expanded globes showing just who was responsible for this situation. Unfortunately that wasn't it. "TIE fighters," he said quickly, and Paris immediately began some evasive maneuvers.

Taar watched the position of the ships on the board, monitoring the activity with precision. It was important that absolutely nothing went wrong with this. "Chimaera to Black 1. Disable their shields, but do not destroy the vessel."

"Understood Chimaera," was the reply.

He watched the twisting shapes as they danced the dance of combat in a place where there were no forces to stand in the way of these brilliant twists and turns. It was a beautiful ballet of three dimensions, one he hadn't seen up close in a while he realized.

The ship rocked slightly as Paris tried to pull away from the fighters, their weapons splashing across the shuttle's shields. "Shields at 79%," the computer announced.

"They're herding us," Paris said as he grit his teeth. "They're trying to keep us in the interdiction field."

What are they doing here? Picard wondered as he watched the TIE suddenly appear in the window moments before the phasers blasted it apart. What interest would they have here, and why are they after us? Is this Thrawn's idea, or some rival Imperial warlord? The ship shuddered, and he decided that questions like this could be saved for later. He watched Paris with a bit of awe as he managed to avoid most of the TIEs' fire despite being outnumbered. They may not have given me the best ship, he thought as another TIE appeared in the window, only to collapse under phaser fire, but they gave me a great pilot.

"Three left," Paris muttered, trying to keep steady, to be as much a part of his ship as he could. "Okay, we can do this." He pulled up abruptly and spun at the TIEs, causing them to veer off to avoid him. He picked one and started following it, gently bobbing up and down as he sought just the right angle, trying to anticipate the pilot who desperately fought to avoid what he knew would be coming. Another blast, and the odds were almost even. "That's how we do that," he mumbled, pulling a sharp turn to take on the last two fighters.

The commander of fighter operations must have recognized the look of disapproval on Delric Taar's face. "Black Squadron," he ordered, "Deactivate the shields on the shuttle now!"

Taar watched the turning ships, for a while, watching another flare on the screen indicating the Federation ship had succeeded in destroying another of the Emperor's "finest". What has the fleet come to? he wondered. No wonder we were losing fighters to the Borg. There was no alternative he decided, and he turned and left the command center.

"They're launching more TIEs," Picard said as he kept a close eye on the second star destroyer.

"I think that's our signal to say au revoir," Paris replied, breaking away from the remaining TIE and heading for the edge of the interdiction field, the TIE now returning to fire at the shuttle.

"The interdictor is pursuing," Picard said quickly. "They're trying to keep us in the field."

"We'll outrun them if we have to," Paris replied, pushing the ship to its maximum. The Delta Flyer raced through space as it tried to leave the Imperials behind. Unfortunately, they weren't going to let that happen.

"I'll take the shuttle myself," Taar said as his TIE Defender chewed up the distance between them and the ship. "You keep him in the field long enough to get the shields down.

"That's new," Paris remarked as he saw the Defenders approaching.

"Be careful," Picard said as he recognized the ships. "They're heavily armed and shielded."

Paris grinned. "Just like us." He waited until they were almost on top of them, their laser cannons splattering space around them as the ship bobbed and weaved to avoid them, then executing a straining twist that caused them to overshoot him. He poured on the speed trying to outrace them, but these ships were very quick, and within seconds were coming at him again.

Taar was fairly impressed, the pilot certainly wasn't making this easy for them. After a few failed hits he decided to change his tactics, tapping over his weapons array and selecting one of the Defender's supply of concussion missiles. Scans showed their shields around 70%, so a pair should take them down with minimal damage. He was just prepared to initiate a lock when the ship twisted up and to his left, causing him to pull up hard to try and pursue.

"Persistent, aren't they," Paris remarked. "Do me a favor. See that panel there? Open it up."

Picard pulled it opened, revealing what looked like a primitive tactical array. "You get a lock," Paris said, "Let me know and I'll do the rest."

Taar and his wingmen weaved along behind the shuttle, trying to keep up with it. Suddenly the ship's engines cut and it flipped over, now appearing to be upside-down and facing them for a second, its inertia keeping it moving. Taar's wingman splashed it with a few blasts but their engines, pushed to full, were now zooming them right past, but during that glimpse he saw a photon torpedo emerge and annihilate his left TIE. Taar began to pull up when his other wingman was destroyed in the same manner. Impressive, Taar thought as he pulled a tight turn to come back once again at the shuttle.

"The Interceptor is breaking off," Picard replied. "It looks like it suffered some shrapnel damage from one of the Defenders."

"Whoa," Paris said as he tried circling the last TIE to finish this and get them out of there, "This guy's good."

The TIE and the Delta Flyer twisted about space together, each trying to get the other lined up for the kill, each pilot pushing his craft to the edge of the envelope to be the one that secures the shot. The Delta Flyer was maneuverable, but the Defender was quick, and neither would fall for the tricks of the other. On his ship, Tom Paris felt the sweat running down his body, flying mostly on instinct, using his gift for handling ships like few trained pilots could. On his TIE, Delric Taar felt alive for the first time in years. This is what it was about, this is art! he thought gleefully. And while Paris' gift was impressive, Taar brought in true dogfighting experience, and that was what he needed as he anticipated Paris latest turn, locked on, and fired, his concussion missiles covering the distance in no time and slamming into the shields.

"Warning! Shields Down," came the message from the computer.

"I'm re-routing power-" Picard began, and then he disappeared.

"Ambassador!" Paris said in surprise. And that was his mistake.

"We have him," came the message from the Chimaera.

"Good," Taar replied, watching the shuttle hit the center of his targeting computer again. "My hat's off to you sir," he said as he pushed the button, "You were a worthy opponent."

The last two missiles, their yield set to maximum, raced towards the Delta Flyer. Paris, his concentration back, tried to outmaneuver them, but after a few seconds they found their target and struck, crushing the armor of the shuttle like tin foil and ripping into the ship, overloading its reactor and disintegrating it in a fantastic display of expanding plasma. Taar gave the pilot a final salute and returned to the Chimaera. Minutes later, still wearing his flight suit, he walked into the holding area where former-captain Picard now sat in binders, flanked by two stormtroopers. "Welcome ambassador," he said as he disconnected his helmet. "Admiral Thrawn is looking forward to speaking with you again."

Lt. Commander Borui sat drumming her fingers in her quarters, waiting. She wasn't very surprised by this, but she was disappointed. "Computer, what time is it?" she asked.

"14:23," it answered.

She sighed wearily. "Where is Lt. Commander of Nine?" she asked.

"Seven of Nine is in her quarters," came the same even reply.

Borui had been to Seven's quarters before, but it still surprised her every time as she entered the dimly lit room. There was no bed of course. There were computer consoles, tables, but no signs of personal effects; there weren't even any chairs. Off to one side was a Borg alcove, in which Seven now stood, regenerating. "Computer, end regeneration cycle," she said.

"Unable to comply. Disrupting regeneration cycle not permitted."

She sighed. "Override. Borui Three One Epsilon Six."

She hadn't been aware of the sound until it stopped, like the disengaging of an engine followed by a kind of popping sound. Seven opened her eyes and stepped out of the slot. "Commander," she said evenly. "State your business."

"You," she replied, "you are my business, or have you forgotten?"

Seven walked over to one of the computer terminals and began working as she spoke. "I have an eidetic memory, I do not forget."

"Then why is it you're here and not in my quarters for your appointment, the one we had assigned for a half-hour ago?"

"I am afraid I have other duties to perform," Seven said, not looking over at her.

"You can't perform those duties unless you're considered emotionally and mentally capable of the tasks," Borui replied with all the bluntness she could muster. "And that is a decision left up to me."

Seven turned to face her, no emotion on her face. "I'm afraid that your decision is no longer relevant. I'm leaving the Enterprise."

Borui was surprised to say the least. "What, you're being reassigned?"

"I cannot divulge the nature of my assignment," Seven replied, returning to work.

"Seven!"

"I have my orders," the former Borg replied. "Take them up with Captain Riker if you wish."

She stormed through the ship, seething at the situation. What was Riker doing, reassigning Seven without consulting her when he knew she was having difficulties. Self-centered ass, she thought as the doors opened on the bridge and she marched towards the Ready Room door. "The Captain is busy," Laforge said as he saw where she was heading.

"You bet he is," she grumbled as she stepped through the doors without even bothering with the door chime. Riker was seated behind his desk talking to Skywalker. "...you can make contact with-" he was saying, and stopped as she stormed into his office. "Is something wrong, commander?" he asked with a look of uncertainty.

"What are you doing with Seven?" she demanded.

Riker shifted uneasily in his chair. "I have a mission for her. That's all you need to know."

"Your mission is interfering with her treatment," Borui shot back. "I'm not even sure she's fit to go into the field."

Riker looked annoyed but did his best to try and seem diplomatic. "I'm afraid that's not an issue here. We need her on this mission, and that's the end of it."

What's his problem? she thought to herself, uncaring that Skywalker probably knew she was thinking it. He's endangering an officer with complete recklessness by doing this. "Then you leave me no choice but to declare her unfit for duty."

"You can't do that-"

"Look, I'm not your 'there-there tell me about your feelings' councilor I'm a trained psychiatrist and therefore as Seven's physician and in accordance with Starfleet regulation-"

"Commander!" Riker shouted, grinding her to a halt, "Enough!" He pointed her to a chair and after a brief pause she sat down. Now that she'd calmed down a little she could feel he was a bit conflicted about this. He seemed to reach a decision. "I'm going to let you in on the situation," Riker said with a little weariness in his voice. "We have a very small number of people involved in a secret plan to destroy the Borg using a computer program and an interlink we've set up with the Collective. But in order to upload the program we need someone to enter the Collective through the interlink."

"And you planned to use Seven of Nine to do this?"

"We planned to use Amb. Picard," Riker said with frustration, "Except he disappeared two days ago, and we've no idea what happened."

"What?" Luke said with surprise.

"He was supposed to arrive at Starbase 1192, but he never did. The area has been searched thoroughly; we did find remains of the shuttle, but what became of him and the pilot are unknown. Which leaves us with no choice but to move forward with our alternate."

"Wait," Borui said, holding up her hand, "You want to send Seven back into the mind of the Collective?"

"There's really no one else to do it," Riker replied. "She has had experience with the Borg and using the interlinks, she's our best hope."

"Except that she's demonstrated a definite instability on the subject of assimilation since this war began," Borui said. "You send her in and we may never get her back out again."

Riker sighed as he leaned back in his chair, his exhaustion now readily apparent. "I know," he said finally. "But there are more lives at stake here than can be counted."

"I'm concerned with the one that we're sending into obvious danger," Borui said.

"She is a Starfleet officer. We put our lives on the line every day."

"But not like this!"

Riker held up his hand to stop the discussion for a moment. "I'm aware of all this, and I didn't reach this decision lightly. But we're not only talking about an invasion of the Federation, we're also talking about our allies, and the New Republic which is trapped between the Borg and some alien race that is threatening to destroy them."

"So your mind is made up."

"Yes."

"Then at least let me go with her," Borui insisted. "Maybe I can help during the trip or even during the procedure itself."

Riker considered it. "Agreed, on the condition that you do not interfere and waive any privilege in declaring her unfit for duty. I want this damn thing over with."

She agreed and left. Luke turned his attention back to Riker. "You didn't tell me about this."

"I didn't think it was important," he replied.

"But, if Seven's going why are we going forward with this?" Luke asked. "If Seven finishes it the point is moot."

"Yes, it would be," Riker replied. "But I like to hedge my bets. I want this war over, once and for all."

Go To Part XX
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