CHAPTER 17

An entire continent away Seven of Nine stood at the terminal in her lab transfixed by the simulation results on her screen. Her initial hypothesis had been destroyed by the simulation results, but a different idea of how to accomplish her goal had appeared out of the wreckage. She stared at the readouts, her mind racing. Fingers danced over terminal contacts and her brow furrowed slightly in frustration. Giving into it, she drew her left hand back, extended her assimilation tubules and directly interfaced with the computer serving her lab.

The research assistants assigned to her, while not exactly comfortable with their resident genius utilizing her remaining Borg implants to interface with their computers, were at least past the gasping and paralyzed-by-fear stage. They had been working in the new lab for several weeks and so far had not been disappointed by their leader. Seven of Nine was driven and her brilliance had not been exaggerated. While she was not the warmest of superiors she did seem to make an effort to be civil and that was more than some of the lead researchers at the Institute could claim. But beyond that she remained an enigma to her staff.

Her explanations of what they were attempting were complete and as detailed as required. But no one in the lab had missed the haunted look that crept into her eyes as she watched simulation after simulation fail. They couldn’t know that the concepts they were now testing had taken root and been growing in her brain since the first year she had been on Voyager. The slipstream drive on Arturis’ ship had been the spark. When they had safely returned to Voyager, she had declared her intention of developing a version of slipstream drive that Voyager could safely utilize. The designs and theories had sprung into her brain and she had developed them as best she could. But on Voyager there was always the concern that simulations would draw critical power from a primary system or that using more than allotted CPU access would jeopardize another project critical to the safety of ship and crew. That research would have drawn needed resources away from the all-consuming focus of returning home.

And now, now that she had the laboratory and the time and the access and the power and the freedom to test and expand her theories and ideas, now there was a different danger. Now the Borg threatened. And Kathryn would lead the fight against them. If Seven didn’t develop a working slipstream drive soon Kathryn would be forced to go against the Borg at a critical disadvantage and would most likely be killed. Kathryn had given her life back to her. Kathryn had showed her how to feel, to function, to be free. Kathryn had shown her how to love and how incredible it was to be loved. Now the fear of losing Kathryn drove her. The mantra ‘hurry, hurry, hurry’ ran constantly through her mind. She could not, would not lose Kathryn because she failed in her quest. She would design the slipstream drive Kathryn required. She would protect her wife, her collective, the best way she knew how. As Seven withdrew her tubules from the access port the frown on her features eased.

“Reset the simulation and prepare to run it once more. This time set the tolerance of the lattice array to no more than .6800 and lock out any phase variances.”

“But, Dr. Hansen, won’t that force a cascade failure in the processor?” asked one of her senior assistants.

“It would under normal circumstances, yes. But with the lattice array set to a maximum tolerance of .67999… I believe we can avoid the cascade failure. Are we reset?”

“Yes, ma’am, it’s ready to run again.”

“Begin the simulation.” All eyes in the lab fixed on the read outs flashing across their screen. This time, as the compression ratios climbed, the lattice array of the superprocessors absorbed the power fluctuations and continued functioning as they had been designed to.

“Run time: five minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed, 800 EHz… 875 EHz… 930 EHz… 980 EHz… Dr. Hansen, we’re approaching Zetta hertz speeds!”

“Continue the simulation,” Seven said firmly.

“Run time: seven minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed…400 ZHz and climbing!” The young researcher couldn’t keep the rising excitement out of her voice.

Seven’s eyes never moved from the numbers flashing across her terminal.

“Verify that the power utilization curve is within acceptable parameters. Give me constant temperature readouts and continue the simulation.” Her assistants bent over their boards, fingers flying.

“Verifying; power utilization curve is .763 microvolts below projections! We’re using less power than we expected!”

“Temperature holding steady at 22°C. That’s below standard room temperature!”

“Run time: nine minutes. Power utilization nominal. Processing speed…this can’t be right!” The young woman’s face froze as she stared at the readouts of her board.

“Your perceptions are irrelevant! Give me the data readouts from your board.”

“Processing speed….I’m reading 256 Yotta Hertz! That’s impossible! Nothing has even worked at Zetta hertz speeds let alone Yotta hertz!”

Turning to another assistant Seven snapped, “Verify those speeds using secondary protocols as well as primary protocols.”

Tight silence reigned in the lab until the second assistant spoke up in a whisper. “The secondary protocols match the primary simulation results: our processor is functionally working at over 250 YHz. We’ve just increased the processing speed of our computers by a factor of three…” All eyes in the lab turned to Seven as she stared at her board trying to find a flaw, any flaw. But the longer she looked the more convinced she became: there were none. They had done it. By incorporating a lattice array into power interfaces she had managed to remove the final barrier to the processing speeds she needed. The lattices kept the temperatures down and allowed the circuitry processing power to explode exponentially. Standard cooling protocols would insure that the super-processor would be fast enough.

Finally she looked up from her boards, a slow smile spreading over her face. “I believe the breakthrough we have been looking for has been achieved. Your efforts have been most acceptable. Tomorrow we will run this entire simulation twice more. With a breakthrough of this magnitude results must be beyond question.”

Glancing at the chronometer on the wall she shook her head slightly. “Much as I would like to continue tonight, shut the simulation down and we will pick up again in the morning. You have all earned an early night. Go out and enjoy yourselves.” Talking excitedly among themselves, her assistants began stepping down the simulation to close it as Seven walked into her office adjoining the lab. She sat at her desk, made some rapid log entries in her laboratory journal and stopped to consider what they had done.

With the increase in processing speed they had just demonstrated and with an enhanced interface matrix she had some ideas about there was every indication that she and her assistants could build a safe and functional slipstream drive. The only factor that had ever limited slipstream travel was the processing speeds of conventional computers. They were just too slow to compute phase variances in the quantum field and transmit corrections to the deflector arrays to maintain the slipstream corridors. Now that they had apparently tripled conventional processing speed and were about to increase the interface matrix tolerances there would be nothing physical stopping their construction of a slipstream drive.

Theoretically, a quantum slipstream drive would be capable of speeds far in excess of the Borg transwarp drives, a tactical advantage that would be hugely valuable to Starfleet. Kathryn would have the advantage necessary to keep her as safe as possible. Once they had designed the slipstream drive Seven had some ideas about shields, armor and weapons that she would need to develop. Kathryn deserved no less.

But there was so little time.

Hurry, hurry, hurry….

* * *

The walk to the transport center in Cambridge was cold, but Seven never noticed as her mind continued to pore over and analyze their simulation results. Controlling the harmonics in the lattice arrays had done the trick; the processor was more than capable of handling the computations necessary to keep a quantum slipstream corridor stable. The matrix enhancements for the interface between the processor and the deflector array were important to maintain a stable slipstream. Perhaps she could ask B’Elanna for help with them. Voyager’s Chief Engineer was brilliant and would add critical knowledge to the design. Seven decided to contact her the next day and ask for her help.

She began to block out the simulations and tests that would have to be run before they could begin building a prototype drive. She made a mental note to inform Dr. Pedersen of their find so that the Institute would be on top of the developments. A quantum slipstream drive would have military applications which would require the Institute work in conjunction with Starfleet.

Looking up she realized she was at the transport center. Stepping onto the pad she stated firmly, “San Francisco, Russian Hill” and felt the tingle as the transporter did its job. When she rematerialized on their neighborhood pad she stepped off and began the uphill trek toward home. Seven was running a bit late; perhaps Kathryn would be waiting for her. The thought warmed her as she walked and caused a smile that stayed on her face as she keyed the entry code to the Fremont Lane gate.

When she entered their house Seven heard soft jazz playing on the comm system and followed the sound of quiet, slightly-off-key humming to her love. Janeway was holding a glass of neat whiskey and staring out at the glittering vista of city lights trailing down to San Francisco Bay. Seven came up behind her and slipped her arms around the smaller woman drawing her in close.

“Hello, my love,” murmured Janeway with a soft smile, “How was your day?”

Both women relaxed into the embrace as Seven replied. “It was acceptable, Kathryn. We made progress in our current project. I hope to have it completed within a week. How was your day?”

Janeway sighed, “It’s going along like we thought it would. I haven’t heard one plan or protocol from Starfleet that makes me think we’ll survive a Borg attack. In fact, it seemed apparent this morning that even Admiral Quinn has been overruled by the Federation President or the Council. He didn’t look at all pleased with the discussion. I’m afraid we’re going to have to go ahead with our plans.”

“Did you initiate them?”

“Somewhat. I didn’t contact our staff yet, but I asked Jean-Luc and Will to dinner here tomorrow night. They’re bringing Bev Crusher and Deanna and I thought I’d invite Admiral Pulaski and the EMH to join us. That way we can talk to all the major players at the same time. If I’m going to commit mutiny I want the best company possible.” Seven’s smile widened at the wry tone of Janeway’s voice.

“I did some research, Kathryn, and technically what we are doing is called ‘barratry’. You are not staging an illegal uprising to take control of a Federation vessel or facility; rather you are committing ‘an act of gross misconduct which may not be in the best interests of the ship-owner’.”

“Wonderful. I’m committing barratry, not mutiny. I’m sure that will be a source of great comfort to me in whatever penal colony we wind up.” The irony in Janeway’s tone made Seven’s smile grow even wider.

“I do not wish to cook tonight, Kathryn. Shall we go out to dinner?”

“Whatever you want, darling. We’ll need to talk about tomorrow night and make some plans whatever we do.”

“Very well. Would you like Chinese food?”

“Xinh Xao’s? You know I can’t resist their Chow Mei Fun.”

“Then Xinh Xao’s it is.”

Settling in at their table several minutes later Seven remarked on their good fortune to live where they did. The neighborhood was filled with cafes, bistros, gourmet shops, coffeehouses and eateries of all descriptions. It was never a walk of more than ten or fifteen minutes to whatever cuisine you fancied. Seven was enchanted with her new home and its locale, not to mention her new roommate. They ordered and began a desultory conversation on no particular topics.

“Do you wish me to cook for dinner tomorrow, Kathryn? Given the state of my research it might be difficult for me to break free early enough to do so.”

“Then let’s just have it catered, love. I’ll call and order something in the morning. The caterers can either deliver the food or send the programming parms to our replicator. Either way, no one will need to cook. That’s just simpler. But remind me to open a few bottles of the Chateau Picard early enough to breathe.”

“I will, Kathryn.”

“Is there any particular cuisine you’d like to serve? I don’t know everyone’s preferences but most people enjoy Italian food. How about some seafood and fettuccini in a white sauce?”

“I would prefer scallops in a white clam sauce. And it would be easier on everyone if the pasta was penne rather than fettuccini. It is easier to eat and not as inclined to drop onto your clothing. Perhaps a crisp green salad to start and Italian ices for dessert? With cappuccino?” They were briefly interrupted as their dinners were served.

“Your palette is amazing, love. I can’t believe it was less than six months ago that you were still saying that taste was irrelevant and that you did not require solid nutrition. That sounds like a perfect dinner. I’ll take care of ordering it first thing in the morning. Now, tell me about your day. You said that your research was acceptable. For most people, that means that they would be jumping up and down for joy. What happened?”

“While examining the results of a failed simulation, I saw a pattern in the cascade failure of the processor. By strengthening the lattice array and reducing the harmonic amplitude by thirty-two percent we held the temperature fluctuations to near zero, reduced power requirements by twenty-five percent and increased the processing speed by a factor of three. Our processor was working at slightly over 250 YHz when we stepped the simulation down.”

Janeway’s fork clattered unheeded to her plate as her jaw dropped. “250 YHz? Seven, that’s impossible! There have never been recorded processing speeds in the YHz range; in fact, the Klingons Lursa and B’Etor Duras hypothesized that computers working in excess of ZHz speeds would significantly increase the possibility of subspace rifts. Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes Kathryn, we ran the simulation for lengthy amount of time. We will re-run it again tomorrow, but the results I saw today indicate the processor works. I am forming a team to reinforce the interface matrices between the processor and deflector arrays, but I am confident that with B’Elanna’s help that enhancement can be designed and implemented very quickly. Once the two are joined, we are only construction time away from a working prototype of a quantum slipstream drive.”

Janeway stared at her lover in awe. “My God, you’ve done it. In less than a month you’ve overcome the obstacles Starfleet thought would never be overcome. A quantum slipstream drive! How fast do you think it could go?”

“Hypothetically, Kathryn, twice the speed of a transwarp ship. But there are still too many unknowns to be making predictions like that. I will notify Dr. Pedersen in the morning of our results so that she can set up the communication channels with Starfleet. I am sure that the TPG will wish to monitor our simulations and verify our results as well. Please do not tell anyone of my results until the Institute releases the information officially.”

“Of course, darling. Seven, you’ve done it! Let’s order champagne and celebrate!” As Janeway turned in her chair to signal a waiter, Seven laid a gentle hand on her arm to stop her.

“I would rather do something else, Kathryn.”

“What, darling?”

“I would prefer that we stop at the wine shop on the corner and purchase a bottle of champagne on our way home. And that we drink it in bed.” Seven’s optical array arched in question as she explained her plan.

Janeway didn’t bother to answer her, just signaled frantically for the check.

* * *

The next morning Seven stopped in at Dr. Pedersen’s office before opening her lab. The director’s assistant was not in yet, but the director was and welcomed Seven into her office with a wide smile. Indicating a conversation area at one side of the spacious office, both women sat down.

“You’re in bright and early this morning. Can I get you some coffee or tea, Dr. Hansen?”

Remembering the Doctor’s social lessons, Seven replied, “No, thank you. There were some unusual results in my lab yesterday that I felt you should be made aware of.”

She handed the director a PADD with the results of the final simulation and settled back in her chair as the other woman began to read. She watched with veiled amusement as Dr. Pedersen’s eyes slowly widened and began to scan back and forth faster and faster as she tried to absorb the contents of the PADD.

“But… but…” she sputtered as her eyes flew up to lock with Seven’s. “Is this even possible? Have you duplicated your simulation? Are you sure this isn’t a one-time anomaly?”

“My assistants are setting the simulation up again this morning. We will run it for the entire morning and then re-stage it again this afternoon. But the results are clear: we have broken the YHz barrier. I will instruct another team of researchers to begin developing enhancements to the interface matrices between CPUs and deflector arrays. I would like to bring in a Starfleet engineer to help with that enhancement. Once they are in place, and if our processing speeds hold, we are ready to begin design of a prototype slipstream drive.”

“A month…less than a month. You’ve been here less than a month and you’ve cracked the barriers to a slipstream drive…” Pedersen whispered in amazement. Recovering with a small shake of her head she laughed out loud. “Dr. Hansen, I suspect that the highlight of my curriculum vitae as director of the MIT-Daystrom Institute will be the fact that I lured you here to join us. With results like these I can be perfectly content with that. Please, would you object to me joining you this morning? I haven’t been involved in research this exciting in a long time and it would be…fun…to be there with you and your team.”

Seven considered her internal chronometer. “We should be ready to start our simulation by 0715 hours. Please join us if you can.” She rose and extended her hand to the director. “And thank you for ‘luring me’ to this Institute. If these results hold and we do build a slipstream drive it will be because this facility provided the research environment to do so.”

“I’ll be in your lab by 0710 hours. Count on it!” They shook hands and Seven left for her laboratory area. Pedersen collapsed into her desk chair and contemplated what she had just been told. MIT-Daystrom has just opened the door to a working slipstream drive, not to mention untold weapons, navigational and shielding technologies. And those are just the military applications. I’ll need to contact Leah Brahms as soon as we get the interface matrices locked down. Seven of Nine just beat the pants off the TPG and they had a year’s head start! Her smile widened as she anticipated watching the morning’s simulation run.

Her anticipation was rewarded by 1115 hours. Seven’s team had run a full scale simulation and their processor had steadily maintained the 256 YHz speed. Even when they instituted power fluctuations the lattice arrays moderated the fluctuations and kept the processor working without a hitch. They stepped the simulation down and brought it to a halt with no apparent discrepancies in the processing speeds. The team began a full set of diagnostics to ascertain if the processor had sustained any damage from the long simulation. Dr. Pedersen asked Seven to join her in the office. Once away from the excited research team she faced her newest scientist with a smile.

“Well, you’ve convinced me. It works. I have no doubt that your simulation this afternoon will produce the same results. I’ll start putting together an independent beta-test team for the processor. We can be ready to go when you return from your honeymoon. But I can’t see any reason why the processor won’t pass with flying colors. You realize that I’ll have to bring Starfleet and TPG on board once you finalize your results, don’t you?”

Seven nodded. “I knew they would have to be brought in fairly soon. It would be extremely difficult to construct a working prototype without a ship and Starfleet’s cooperation in that would greatly facilitate matters. But please do not do so until we have our interfaces fully tested and implemented as well. That way we can present them with not only the enhanced processor but the necessary deflector linkage as a single design.”

Pedersen nodded in agreement. “That was my plan as well. Congratulations, Dr. Hansen. I know I won’t be the last to offer them to you, but please let me be the first.” After a few minutes’ additional discussion on the best way to handle events with Starfleet Dr. Pedersen returned to her office and Seven to the lab. Her team was poring over the results of the most recent simulation and formulating ways to try and ‘break’ the new processor. The more variables they could program in their simulations the less chance the beta test team would succeed in finding a flaw in their processor. So deep was their focus on the next simulation that none of them thought about lunch.

By 1330 hours they were ready to run the simulation again. Just as Seven gave the order to power up the matrices the comm unit in her office chimed. She instructed her assistants to cycle up the simulation as she moved to answer the comm. The security officer in the main lobby of her building was hailing her.

“Dr. Hansen? There’s a Commander Shelby from Starfleet Headquarters here to see you.”

Seven frowned at this news. She knew who Commander Shelby was, of course, but could not help but wonder what she was doing on the wrong side of the country.

* * *

“I appreciate you seeing me without advance notice, Dr. Hansen.”

“I believe we agreed that you would call me Seven, Commander. How may I be of assistance?”

Elizabeth Shelby took a deep breath. The very survival of the Federation could hinge on how she phrased her request. But Seven of Nine, a former Borg drone would not tolerate the typical political double-talk necessary in Starfleet Headquarters. Only the unvarnished truth would suffice here.

“Seven, I cannot carry out my orders. It is not possible to configure the planetary sensor arrays to provide adequate warning of Borg exit apertures. No matter how minutely we configure the arrays, unless the exit aperture forms within one thousand kilometers of a sensor pod, we will not have advance warning. You and Captain Janeway implied that you knew how it could be done in an…unconventional…manner. I need the specifications you were thinking of when you and the captain visited me in my office. I need your help, Seven. The Federation cannot stand against the Borg without it. I realize that now, even if Starfleet doesn’t.”

Seven considered the woman seated next to her for a long moment. That she was being forthright was a point in her favor; however, Seven was not knowledgeable enough about Starfleet politics to comfortably deal with her. She wished that Kathryn were with her at this moment.

“What would you have me do, Commander? I am considered a security risk by many of the ranking officers of Starfleet. I cannot walk into Headquarters and demand that they listen to me.”

“No, you can’t. But you can convince Captain Janeway that I’m not her enemy. We can work together to protect the quadrant. You can give us the benefit of your knowledge. You can do those things, can’t you? And I will do my level best to show Starfleet how big a mistake they are making in cutting you out of the process of defending Earth.”

What Commander Shelby proposed was precisely what she and Kathryn had tried to suggest to Shelby earlier. That the officer was now willing to consider it gave ample testimony to the degree of desperation she felt. Seven made her decision.

“Do you know the transport center at Lombard and Van Ness?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Meet me there this evening at 1740 hours. We’ll be attending a dinner party.”

“Uniforms required?”

“No, actually, civilian attire.”

Shelby stood to take her leave. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

When Seven stepped off the transport pad that night Shelby was waiting. The Starfleet officer was dressed in a beautifully tailored black suit with a dove gray silk t-shirt. Seven greeted her warmly and the women began the short walk to the Janeway-Hansen residence. Shelby was impressed with the location of their home and commented on it to Seven.

When she opened the front door and called out to Kathryn, Seven hoped that her partner had calmed down from her initial response on their call that afternoon. Janeway was not at all pleased that Shelby had tried to use Seven to get around her, but Seven had been adamant that the Commander wanted only to work with Janeway and not against her. She persuaded her stubborn Starfleet captain to give Shelby a chance. As the two women walked through the foyer and into the great room Kathryn came out from the kitchen to greet them. After a slightly-longer-than-brief kiss for her fiancée Seven excused herself to change for dinner and Janeway fixed Shelby and herself a drink. Cocktails in hand, they moved toward the sofa in front of the fireplace just as the caterers finished setting up. After a quick conference with Janeway they adjourned to their hovervan where they could wait in comfort and she returned to the sofa and her guest. Settling in with her drink she contemplated the Starfleet expert.

“Well, I was certainly surprised when Seven called me to tell me she’d invited you tonight. Any particular reason you accosted her instead of me?”

Shelby carefully considered her answer. “Because I’d already alienated you by sticking with Starfleet standards. I knew that Seven would understand that nothing is more important to me than protecting Earth and the Terran Sector. Even if I was foolish enough to ignore what I knew and opted to go along like I always do. But this is too important. This isn’t just political; this is survival for the human race. I can’t just ‘go along’ on this one. I have to succeed even if it means I go against Starfleet. The alternative is too horrific to contemplate. So I went to Seven to try and convince her to trust me. Once I got here I planned to apologize to you and beg for your help.” She regarded Janeway with a steady gaze.

“I see. Well, it worked. You’re here. Now tell me what’s really going on.”

“Would it be possible to wait for Seven to join us? I know I’m going to need her help too and I’d just as soon brief you both at the same time.”

“In that case we’ll wait until dinner. This dinner party has a purpose; a nefarious one by Starfleet standards. We’ll see where everybody stands and then come clean together.”

“Who else is coming tonight?”

“Picard, Crusher, Riker, Troi, Pulaski and our EMH.”

Shelby nodded in understanding. “The entire command team. That makes sense. If you’re going to accomplish anything you’ll need all of them working together.”

Janeway merely nodded in answer, her eyes swinging to the hallway as Seven emerged from the bedroom dressed in raw silk slacks of light gray and a sapphire silk shirt. Her heart skipped a beat as it always did when she saw her love in a flattering outfit. As she swung her gaze back to Shelby she caught the other woman staring openly at her fiancée.

Chuckling softly she called her on it, “Eyes front, Commander.” Shelby flushed darkly and stammered an apology.

“I understand completely. How can I expect people to keep their eyes off her when I can’t; they only see her occasionally and I live with her. But she is something, isn’t she?”

Shelby looked her directly in the eye and stated emphatically, “You are an extremely lucky woman, Captain. Not only to have made it back from the Delta quadrant but to return with such an amazing partner. I envy you a great deal.”

“Frankly, Commander, I’m constantly surprised that half of Starfleet hasn’t shot me to have a chance with her.”

Seven came out from behind the kitchen counter with a glass of her favorite sparkling cider in hand and sat next to Janeway on the sofa.

“Have you two agreed to a truce or is a duel scheduled for dawn tomorrow?” she asked with a quirk to the corner of her mouth and a cock of her optical array. Their answering laughter relieved her unease with the situation.

“Commander Shelby has decided to join us in our sedition; excuse me, our barratry. She will be part of the solution we decide on tonight.” Their heads turned at the sound of the door chime. Janeway rose to answer it and invited Jean-Luc, Bev, Will and Deanna inside. As she was turning to close the door behind them Admiral Pulaski and the EMH hailed her from the cul-de-sac on their way to the door.

When everyone was settled with a drink in the great room talk turned to Voyager’s return from the Delta quadrant. Janeway and Seven gave their guests the official Starfleet version of their final confrontation with the Borg. The full details couldn’t come out until they had agreement from all the officers on a course of action. Then they could explain why they were determined to go against their orders, not until.

Half an hour later Janeway rose and indicated the way to the dining room. When they had seated themselves, been served and the caterers returned to the kitchen conversation around the table became more focused on the problems at hand. It was obvious that Picard and Riker knew there was trouble brewing and had explained as much to their companions: neither Deanna nor Beverly said much at all, allowing the command officers freedom to discuss their orders. Janeway, Picard, Riker and Shelby spoke frankly of their assignments and their feelings of futility with Starfleet’s inability to ask for the help it so obviously needed. Pulaski stayed silent but listened attentively. Seven remained silent until finally, Janeway broached the subject at the center of their plans. When she explained to Pulaski, Picard, Riker and Shelby of her intention to violate her orders and utilize every bit of help Seven could supply the officers looked at each other and three of them nodded their agreement.

“Count me in,” said Shelby immediately.

Picard seconded that opinion. “I agree with you, Kathryn. I believe it’s the only way we can possibly succeed in our mission.”

Will chuckled and said simply, “I learned a long time ago that Jean-Luc was usually right in his choice of action. I went along with him then and I’ll go along now.”

All eyes turned to Admiral Pulaski. The distinguished looking woman sat deep in thought for several long moments. Finally she looked up and replied, “It’s no secret that I’ve disagreed with Starfleet on more than one occasion in my career. To this moment, I’ve never deliberately violated my orders. But if what I’m hearing is even half true, the battle plan Starfleet has designed will do nothing but cause the cream of Starfleet to die needlessly. We did that in the Dominion War and it didn’t work out too well for us. And it won’t do a damned thing to save humanity from assimilation. So I guess this is that moment when I deliberately defy my orders. I’m a physician: I won’t watch sentient beings die or be assimilated if I can help it. I’m in. So what’s the plan?”

Seven joined in the conversation at this point, explaining in detail how they had escaped the Borg armada in the transwarp hub and made it back to the Alpha quadrant. When she began discussing the technology Admiral Janeway had brought with her Picard frowned.

“Kathryn, I don’t know what your experiences with the Department of Temporal Affairs have been, but mine have never been good. If Temporal Affairs or Temporal Investigations seized that technology there’s no way we’ll ever get it back even with Starfleet’s approval. They value the Temporal Prime Directive above everything else – even humanity.”

Janeway’s wicked grin caused several eyebrows around the table to rise. “That’s the beauty of our plan, Jean-Luc. We don’t need Temporal Affairs; we’ve got Seven of Nine. She was the officer responsible for the installation of the ablative hull armor and the configuration of the transphasic torpedoes.”

Her meaning dawned on Pulaski and Crusher at the same moment. “Of course!” gasped Beverly turning to Jean-Luc, “Her cortical node! She’d got an eidetic memory and a functional cortical node Jean-Luc! She’s already got the schematics we’d need!”

Turning back to Seven she asked gently, “And you can download the schematics without damaging yourself?”

“I can,” Seven replied with a smile.

At this point the EMH chimed in. “It will be an extensive download, but I’ll monitor her while she does it and we’ll get her into her alcove immediately afterward. That will recharge her cortical node and Borg systems and allow her to recover from the effort. Believe me, she’s downloaded much larger data files without harm.”

“So what all are we talking about here?” asked Riker.

“The complete schematics for the ablative hull armor and transphasic torpedoes, the formula for the neurolytic pathogen that the Doctor came up with to break the Queen’s control of the hive mind and a little something Seven came up with all on her own: anti-Borg nanoprobes.”

“Anti-Borg nanoprobes? What are those?” demanded Pulaski.

“It is a modified nanoprobe that assimilates only other nanoprobes and renders them inoperative. Essentially, when these nanoprobes strike any Borg technology they immediately begin to destroy it,” supplied Seven. “If incorporated into the particle beam of a phaser, for example, a shot at a drone will immediately begin breaking down Borg exoplating and cybernetic limbs. If encapsulated in a photon torpedo and fired at a Borg vessel the exterior armoring of the cube will begin to disintegrate immediately. I must credit the Doctor with the idea; he was the one that first modified nanoprobes to fight Species 8472. I merely took his idea a step further.”

“And the Borg would never be able to adapt to them because the nanoprobes would just go after the adapted shielding instead,” said Riker in awe. “My God, Seven, that’s the perfect anti-Borg weapon!”

“Quite right, Will, but ultimately useless to us unless we can get within shooting distance of the Borg. We cannot access their transwarp hubs from this quadrant; there are only exit apertures here. Without propulsion equal to Borg transwarp engines our weapons can be used only defensively. Once they’re in the quadrant it will be too late,” added Picard.

Seven said evenly, “Captain Picard, my lab has had a major success within the past forty-eight hours. I am confident that within weeks the Institute will be contacting the TPG with preliminary schematics for a quantum slipstream drive.”

Deanna Troi spoke up for the first time. “Seven, you’ve only been at the Institute for a couple of weeks. Are you saying that you’ve made the breakthrough Starfleet has been seeking for years in just two weeks?”

“No, Counselor. I have been working on the problems of a quantum slipstream drive for over three years. Now I have the facilities to test and refine the theories I have formulated. Our success has been a long time in coming.”

“Seven, are you sure that the slipstream drive will be functional in time for us to utilize it?” queried Picard gently.

“Yes, Captain. We have solved the processing speed problem. A working slipstream drive requires only enhanced interfaces between the processor and the deflector array to make it feasible. I have started one of my teams on those enhancements while the other is retesting the processor speed results. So far we have had no failures and our speeds have held steady in every simulation. I believe we can bring the TPG into the development of a prototype for space trials within a month.”

The realization that Starfleet might finally possess reliable faster-than-warp propulsion caused excited discussion around the table. Ideas were flung into the mix, debated and either accepted or discarded as unworkable. Finally, after nearly an hour the talk wound down. Seven summoned the caterers to clear the table and serve dessert and coffee.

“So are we all clear on which projects we’re working on?” asked Janeway when they were alone again with their desserts. Affirmative nods from everyone around the table answered her question.

“Needless to say we need to keep this quiet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t bring trusted members of your senior staff on board. Just make sure they know that it’s our careers if Starfleet gets wind of what we’re doing before we can reveal it ‘legally’. The more people that know the greater the chances of being found out. In the meantime our primary goal is to get Seven named to head the fleet refit team. Bev and Deanna, if either of you think of some way to convince Starfleet for heaven’s sake let us know ASAP. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“Does anybody know what the status of all this is? Has the Federation decided to formally aid the Free Borg? Is there a treaty in the works? I think knowing those answers would greatly help in figuring out what it is we need to accomplish,” commented Deanna.

Admiral Pulaski spoke up. “I don’t know about a formal treaty; I assume we’ll all hear about that when it comes out. But the EMH and I have been busy working on the drones from Ronnik’s ship and I know that the official position of Starfleet Medical is to give them all the aid and support we can. We’ve been removing rejected implants in eight separate surgical suites around the clock since they docked at McKinley and plans are to continue until we run out of drones to work on.”

“The logs from Seven’s surgeries and Dr. Crusher’s notes from removing implants after Captain Picard’s assimilation have provided a good knowledge base for our physicians to work from. There are a lot of Starfleet medical officers gaining a lot of experience in Borg implants and exoplating in a big hurry. But that can only work to our advantage if they do attack,” commented the EMH.

Pulaski shifted in her chair and looked carefully around the group. “What I’m about to tell you is classified. The Holo-Imaging Labs on Jupiter have been ordered to provide holo-emitters for Ronnik’s ship and for Korok’s ship and to download the complete program files for our Mark lV EMH. Ronnik’s ship will be equipped with the Mark lV and it will carry the schematics for holo-emitters and the program installation parameters back to Korok. They have been given permission to equip every ship in Korok’s fleet with a Mark lV.”

“And the Mark lV is being programmed with all of my subroutines that deal with the Borg. So it will be fully qualified to care for the drones in Korok’s fleet,” added the EMH. This was news to the rest of the people at the table.

“I suppose I shouldn’t mention this since it’s only a rumor, but best to get everything out in the open,” said Shelby. “You folks on Voyager probably didn’t hear this, but rumor has it that Reg Barclay expanded on the work he did with micro-wormholes that enabled you all to communicate from the Delta quadrant. Scuttlebutt is that he’s developed a portable system that can be deployed from a starship to create a wormhole, send a data stream to a pre-programmed location and maintain the wormhole for twenty-four hours if necessary to receive an answering data stream. And that the system is going back to the Delta quadrant for Korok to use.”

Seven was fascinated at the idea. “A system that would create its own micro-wormhole…of course, the destination location at Starfleet would remain constant. So the wormhole would always appear at the same place, only its origin would change…. Kathryn, this would enable your fleets to be in constant contact with Starfleet from anywhere in the galaxy. And for Korok to communicate immediately with Starfleet as he discovers new intelligence on the Borg.”

“So let’s take stock of what we’ve got so far,” said Janeway ticking items off on her fingers. “Starfleet Medical is removing all the Borg systems it can from the drones on Ronnik’s ship, all of Korok’s fleet will have EMH Mark lVs and at least Korok will be able to communicate directly with Starfleet Command. That’s a lot of technology being shared with an unknown group. I’d bet a treaty is in the works that will recognize the Free Borg as an ally of the Federation. And if Korok eventually manages to settle his forces on a planet they could actually become Federation members.”

Picard nodded in agreement. “Enterprise has been on enough diplomatic missions for me to recognize the activity. I think Kathryn is correct; there’s a treaty being ironed out right now for Ronnik to carry back to Korok.”

“How firm is that rumor about Barclay’s communication system?” Riker asked Shelby.

“I got a whiff of it about four months before Voyager returned but haven’t heard anything more about it since.”

Riker turned to his wife. “You were close with Reg on Enterprise. How would you like to be our Mata Hari and find out what he’s up to?”

“Mata Hari?” asked Deanna.

“Early 20th century Earth reference. Mata Hari was an exotic dancer and courtesan accused, tried and executed for being a spy during the first global conflict of the 20th century…World War l I believe they called it.”

Deanna raised an eyebrow at her husband. “She was executed and you want me to behave like her?”

Riker grinned rakishly and replied, “Well, we’d expect you to be better at it than she was.”

“Better at being an exotic dancer or a courtesan?” asked Seven innocently.

Riker flushed crimson as the table dissolved in laughter. Deanna elbowed him sharply in the ribs and joined in the laughter.

“Believe me, if any of you have ever dealt with Reg you’ll know how funny that really is. The poor man is incapable of keeping a secret with me. Trust me, if I ask him more than once he’ll tell me everything. I believe I’ll pay a visit to an old shipmate before we head back out.”

“Well then, there’s only one more thing we need to discuss before we can be social. How do we communicate securely?” asked Janeway.

“I have an idea about that,” said Picard, explaining how to encode a message in an innocent looking written communication.

“All right then, send those memos and communiqués to my aide, Ensign Ethan Radcliffe. Use the words “Upcoming Visit” in the subject line. That will alert him that there’s more to the message than just the text. We’ll use Ethan as our clearing house.”

“Are you sure you want to involve your aide in this, Kathryn?”

“Ethan’s young, no question, but he’s going to need to learn that sometimes there are issues bigger than politics and that we all have a greater duty than may sometimes be apparent in our orders. Besides, he’s fiercely loyal and he’ll be crushed if he finds out what’s going on and that he wasn’t included. He’ll love it. Agreed?”

Once that last issue was settled Janeway and Seven and their guests adjourned to the great room for more coffee and conversation. The caterers cleared the dining room and quietly left while Janeway served brandy or Bailey’s to go with the coffee. Several loose ends were tied up and the conversation turned to the upcoming wedding.

“So when are you two leaving for Indiana?” asked Beverly.

“We’ll be in our offices two more days – through Friday – spend the weekend here and go to Indiana at the beginning of next week. There are get-togethers planned for most of the week with various old friends and family and it will just be easier if we’re there instead of constantly beaming back and forth. Besides,” Janeway said with a mock sigh, “who am I to deprive my kid sister her final opportunities to harass me about having to go all the way to the Delta quadrant to find somebody willing to marry me?”

Seven beamed at her fiancée as the group laughed. Shelby remained quiet during the discussion of how everyone was getting to the wedding since she had not been invited. Seven noticed that she was not participating in the conversation and using the guise of bringing Shelby more coffee quietly asked her if she was functioning adequately. Shelby smiled and merely said, “I was just listening to the conversation, Seven. I’m not invited to the wedding; I don’t know the captain well enough.”

Seven gave a small frown. “Do you have a dress uniform?”

“Of course. Every Starfleet officer has one.”

“Then I am inviting you to the wedding. 1800 hours next Saturday. Bloomington, Indiana. I will expect to see you there.”

Unexpectedly touched by the Borg’s concern Shelby could only nod her acceptance and smile.

“I’ll be there.”