Deanna Troi felt as light as air and more fully alive than she had in months. She stood on the center of the silver disk, behind Inyx, who guided it through the breathtaking vertical s.p.a.ces between Axion's grandiose platinum towers. A firm breeze whipped her hair behind her. Tossing her head back and basking in the soothing warmth of New Erigol's artificial sun, it was all she could do to contain herself and not laugh out loud.

The disk neared the tower where the away team had been housed. As she and Inyx began their gentle descent toward the penthouse's open terrace, she saw someone approaching from the main room. A familiar psionic presence brushed against her mind, and she knew with her empathic senses before she saw with her eyes that it was Tuvok. He looked up and saw her, and then he called back inside the suite to summon the others.

By the time she and Inyx touched down on the terrace, the entire away team had gathered to meet her. Vale, Keru, and Tuvok were at the front of the group, and Ree was close behind them. Dennisar and Sortollo flanked the doctor, and Torvig, as usual, lingered at the rear of the group, curious but also cautious.

"h.e.l.lo, everyone," Troi said with a beaming smile.

Keru stepped forward and bear-hugged her. "To h.e.l.l with protocol," he said. "I'm so glad you're all right."

It was as if he'd opened a floodgate. Within moments, Troi found herself in the center of a group embrace with the broad-shouldered Trill, Vale, and the two security guards. Torvig kept his distance, however, and Tuvok remained aloof, as usual.

Ree sidled over to Inyx. "What is her current condition?"

"She is in perfect health, Doctor," Inyx said.

The Pahkwa-thanh physician replied, "I'd be grateful if you could show me her internal scans and serum profile."

Inyx looked at Troi, who was extricating herself from her friends' arms. She nodded to the Caeliar. "It's okay."

"Very well," Inyx said. He gestured with an outstretched arm toward the far end of the terrace. "Doctor, if you'll join me over here, I'll brief you in full." The scientist and the surgeon stepped away to confer.

"How long was I gone?" Troi asked.

Vale shrugged. "About thirteen hours."

Tuvok added," And twenty-one minutes."

"Nice to know I was missed," Troi said. "What have you been doing since I left?"

"Keru and Torvig went sightseeing," Vale said. "The good doctor's been working on his tan, Dennisar and Sortollo played about three hundred games of checkers, and I've been catching up on my reading."

Troi smirked. "Anything good?"

"Believe it or not, a former 'guest' of the Caeliar wrote a bunch of new Captain Proton novels," Vale said. She chortled softly. "I feel like I found a latinum mine."

"I'll bet," Troi said. She looked up as Inyx and Ree returned to the group. "Everything all right, Doctor?"

Ree tasted the air with a flick of his tongue and said, "To my amazement, everything appears to be perfect."

Vale discreetly rested her hand on Troi's shoulder and gave it a congratulatory squeeze. "Finally, some good news."

Inyx made a rattling rasp of a sound and commanded the team's attention. "I apologize in advance for ruining your jubilant mood," he said, "but now that Deanna's medical crisis is resolved, I think it might be time to share news of a less celebratory nature."

Keru asked, "About what?"

"About your home, the Federation," Inyx said. He conjured an oval surface of liquid metal that immediately came alive with sharp, clear images of distant worlds being a.s.saulted by Borg cubes. "It appears that an enemy is waging a successful attack on your nation. Many of your worlds have been destroyed, including some known as Regulus, Lorillia, and Deneva."

At the mention of Deneva, Troi felt a pang of psionic alarm from Tuvok. It was acute enough to pierce the veil of the group's shared anxiety as they watched the images of destruction unfold on the hovering screen before them. The scene shifted to a starship graveyard in a blue-gas nebula. Hundreds of smashed, blackened vessels tumbled erratically on the screen.

"I thought you should know," Inyx continued, "that this information was what compelled your captain to take his ship home and leave you in our custody. In the past, the Quorum has restricted our guests' access to this kind of information. However, I found that Erika placed a great deal of importance on staying informed about events affecting her home, and I thought you might share her interest in such matters."

Vale stepped forward and interposed herself between the away team and the oval screen. "All right, that's enough. Everyone, fall out, find something else to do. Commander Troi and I will brief you all later." The others looked at her and were reluctant to leave. "That's an order. Dismissed."

Torvig turned and gamboled off at a quick step, while Dennisar and Sortollo glowered and slunk away from the terrace. Ree, Keru, and Tuvok made grudging exits, leaving Vale and Troi alone with Inyx. Vale sighed and said to him, "It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but that kind of news can be bad for morale. It would be better if the counselor and I could discuss it with you and ascertain what the facts are before we decide what to share with the rest of the team."

"As you wish," Inyx said. "I didn't mean to upset you." He looked at the images flashing across the screen. "I should have realized how distressing this would be."

Troi noted a melancholy undertone in his voice. "Are you also concerned by this news?"

"Yes, a great deal," he said.

Touching Inyx's arm in what she hoped would be construed as a gesture of compa.s.sion, Troi said, "You're worried about Captain Hernandez."

"I am. That far from Axion, Erika's vulnerable." Inyx's voice resonated with sadness. "She could be harmed...or killed." He looked away from the screen, at Troi and Vale. "It would be such a waste. Erika was the most vital, vibrant being I'd met in dozens of millennia."

A knowing look pa.s.sed between Vale and Troi, and the first officer sounded surprised as she asked, "Inyx, are you in love with Captain Hernandez?"

The looming alien bowed at the waist and half turned away, as if to conceal his ever-dour visage. "I don't know if our species experience love the same way," he said. "All I can say is that for me, she made eternity worth contemplating."

Vale threw a wry look at Troi and said, "That's about as good a definition of love as I've ever heard. Counselor?"

"Yes," Troi said with a grin. "I'd have to agree."

Nanietta Bacco's office was dark except for the pale light of a waning gibbous moon and the amber glow of Paris at midnight.

Bacco stood at the far western end of the s.p.a.cious, crescent-shaped room and leaned her shoulder into the nook between the wall and the floor-to-ceiling window.

The cityscape looked serene, partly because the night sky was unusually empty of air traffic. Most of the people who had some other place to go were there already.

The last report from Secretary of Transportation Iliop had indicated that nearly six hundred million people had fled Earth in the past six days. Some of the planet's smaller cities reportedly had taken on the airs of ghost towns. Paris was no exception, and neither were London, New York, Tokyo, and Mumbai.

On Bacco's order, most of the Federation Council had been ferried offworld, along with the majority of her cabinet, as part of the official continuity-of-government plan. Scattered to dozens of remote sites throughout-and, in a few cases, just beyond-Federation territory, dozens of elected and appointed officials awaited the final signal from Earth that would begin the process of presidential and legislative succession.

The interoffice comm on her desk buzzed. Bacco sighed, plodded back to the desk, and opened the channel with a poke of her index finger. "What is it, Sivak?"

"Admiral Akaar and Ms. Piniero are here, Madam President," replied her elderly Vulcan executive a.s.sistant. "They insist on presenting your midnight briefing."

"Fine," Bacco said. "It might be the last one they ever make, so we might as well get it over with. Show them in."

She jabbed at the switch and closed the comm. A moment later, the east door of her office slid open. Agent Wexler stepped in ahead of Fleet Admiral Akaar and Esperanza Piniero, and the door closed behind them.

"Computer," Bacco said. "Lights, one-third." The recessed light fixtures in the room slowly brightened to a lower-than-normal level, allowing her to see her guests with a bit more clarity and without having to squint like a blind woman.

As soon as her eyes adjusted, she got a good look at Akaar and couldn't suppress a resentful frown. She gestured at his crisp, perfect-looking uniform and salon-perfect mane of pale gray hair. "How do you do it?"

"Madam President?"

"You've been awake the past two days, just like the rest of us," Bacco said. She nodded at Piniero. "But Esperanza and I look like we've been chasing a fart through a bag of nails, and you look like you just stepped out of a replicator. What gives?"

Akaar shrugged. "Good genes?"

"You're not endearing yourself to me, Leonard."

"My apologies, Madam President."

Circling behind her desk, Bacco replied, "Bring me some good news, and maybe we'll call it even."

"We have some," he said, "but not much. Thirty-six minutes ago, the Imperial Romulan Warbird Verithrax sacrificed itself to halt the Borg attack on Ardana. Casualties on the surface are still disastrously high, but if not for the heroism of the Verithrax's crew, our losses there would have been total."

"Which Romulan fleet was the Verithrax loyal to?"

"Donatra's," Piniero said.

Bacco nodded, as if it were all perfectly normal, but she knew that it was nothing shy of extraordinary. If the Federation and the Imperial Romulan State both survived this war with the Borg, there would be no denying that Donatra and those loyal to her had committed fully to an alliance, in both word and deed. "Has there been any reaction from the Romulan Star Empire?"

"No," Piniero said. "Praetor Tal'Aura probably hasn't heard the news yet. For that matter, Donatra might not even know."

"Then make sure we're the ones who tell her," Bacco said. "Send an official expression of grat.i.tude on behalf of myself and the Federation to Empress Donatra."

Piniero nodded and made a note on a small data padd she kept handy in her jacket pocket.

Looking back at Akaar, Bacco asked, "Anything else?"

He blinked once, slowly, and c.o.c.ked his head at a slight angle. "We have received a credible if not entirely corroborated report that the planet Troyius was spared from a Borg attack, thanks to an intervention by the Corps of Engineers."

Bacco's eyes widened; her curiosity was piqued. "How?"

"According to preliminary reports," Akaar said, "the U.S.S. da Vinci made the planet disappear."

"Forgive me for repeating myself," Bacco said. "How?"

A perplexed glance was volleyed between Akaar and Piniero, and then Bacco's chief of staff replied, "No one knows, ma'am. But as soon as Captain Gomez and her crew bring the planet back, we'll be sure to ask her."

"Unfortunately, that is the end of the good news, Madam President," Akaar said. "A Borg attack fleet is eighty-four minutes from Earth, and our perimeter defense groups have been unable to slow its approach. As we feared earlier, the Borg have completely adapted to the transphasic torpedo. And whatever had them shooting at one another has stopped."

An imaginary but still unbearable weight pressed down on Bacco's shoulders, and she sank into her chair. "Admiral, is there any reasonable possibility that Starfleet can halt the incoming Borg fleet?"

The question left Akaar's face reddened with shame. "No."

"Then order all remaining vessels in Sector 001 to break off and disperse," Bacco said. "Stop wasting ships and lives. Redeploy your forces to protect refugees and outlying systems."

Akaar clenched his jaw, and Bacco suspected the hulking flag officer was struggling not to protest a direct order. A few seconds pa.s.sed. He relaxed with a deep breath, and then he answered, "Yes, Madam President."

Bacco sighed. "Esperanza, do the people of Earth, Luna, and Mars know what's happening right now?"

"Yes, ma'am," Piniero said.

Propping her elbows on the desk and steepling her fingers, Bacco asked, "How are they coping with it? Panic? Riots?"

A soft huff of amus.e.m.e.nt brought a bittersweet smile to Piniero's face. "Nope, not a one. There are silent, candlelight vigils on the Champs-elysees, in Aldrin Park on Luna, and at the Settlers' Monument in Cydonia on Mars. Some people are gathering in the wilderness parks or attending impromptu concerts." Her voice broke, and she looked hastily at the floor. "Families are having reunions," she continued, her voice unsteadied by grief and fear. "Outgoing data traffic is spiking as people send farewell messages to friends and family offworld." She sniffled loudly, and then she looked up and wiped the side of her hand under her nose. Her eyes shone with tears. "I guess the world is ending with a bang and a whimper."

Shaking her head, Bacco said, "Not a whimper, Esperanza, with dignity."

Feeling her own emotions rising, Bacco swiveled her chair around to look out upon Paris. She stared through her ghostly reflection into the night. An entire world stretched out before her, facing its imminent annihilation and displaying more grace under pressure than she could ever have imagined possible.

In that moment, she was as proud as she had ever been to call herself a citizen of the Federation.

Akaar broke the silence. "I should excuse myself and relay your orders to Starfleet Command, Madam President."

"Of course, Admiral," said Bacco. "Thank you."

He turned on his heel and made a quick exit. Agent Wexler, lurking in the shadows as always, opened the door ahead of Akaar and closed it behind him. Then the compact protection specialist faded back into the dim s.p.a.ces along the periphery of the room.

Piniero palmed her tearstained eyes dry and stiffened her posture. "We still have eighty minutes before the Borg arrive, ma'am," she said. "Would you like to make a final address to Earth or the Federation?"

Bacco admired the nightscape outside her office window and found at last a place of serenity within herself. "No," she said with a sad grin. "Why ruin a perfectly good apocalypse?"

24.

Picard stood in the open doorway of his ready room, with his back to the bridge. The interior of his office had been gutted to the bare bulkheads and deck plates. All traces of the fire had been meticulously scoured away, leaving the antiseptic sh.e.l.l of the compartment harshly lit by new, uncovered lighting fixtures. It was utterly devoid of any trace of the mementos he'd stored there before the blaze. New carpeting and furniture were scheduled to be installed in a day's time, after the ship's engineers and technicians had attended to mission-critical repairs elsewhere throughout the Enterprise.

His thoughts remained fixated on Captain Hernandez's revelation of the Borg's true origin. Learning of humanity's complicity in the Collective's creation only made it harder for him to accept the staggering devastation the Borg had wrought throughout the galaxy.

He remembered succ.u.mbing to the hive mind when it had made him into Locutus. His secret shame in all the years since then had been how easy it had felt to give himself over to it. He had thought it was proof of some vile defect in his character, some cla.s.sically tragic flaw. Now he understood why it had been so easy, why it had felt so familiar: The heart of the Collective was just the dark side of humanity itself. Even then, his subconscious mind had understood what he had been too ashamed to admit: Despite its pitiless, remorseless drive to crush and possess and devour, the Collective had a human soul.

He heard the soft tread of footfalls on carpeting behind him. Turning his head just a bit, he saw, on the edge of his vision, Worf approaching with a padd in his hand. "Yes, Worf?"

Worf stopped a respectful distance from Picard and said, "La Forge and Kadohata are completing their modifications to the subs.p.a.ce transmitter and the main deflector."

"How much longer?"

Worf said, "Both systems will be online in two minutes."

"Excellent," Picard said. He looked at the indentation in the ready room's bulkhead where a replicator once had been. The sight of the empty s.p.a.ce made him want a cup of Earl Grey tea.