The Light (9 page)

“She almost looks assimilated,” Lense said.

Corsi glanced at her. “Yeah, we try to avoid thinking about that, Doctor.”

“Sorry.” It was an accurate observation, however, though clearly Gomez hadn't been transformed into a Borg drone, despite the similarities in surface appearance. At least nothing mechanical had sprouted from her body. Lense moved over to the body of the previous Sage and pulled back the burlap-like covering that had been draped over her. Other than appearing quite old, there were no obvious discrepancies beyond this race's normal physiological appearance.

“Did she look like Sonya originally?” she asked. Lense directed the question at Corsi, but the security chief had apparently not heard it, staring as she was at Gomez. “Domenica?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Stevens cut in, a trace of irritation in his voice. “She did. Borgish face and those weird blue eyes.”

Lense nodded and pulled the cloth back over the old woman's face. “All right, I have a plan.”
And they're not going to like it.
“The machine released the old woman when she died. One would assume, then, that it would do the same if Sonya was to die.”

Whatever fog had bogged Corsi's mind cleared abruptly, and the security chief looked at Lense as though she'd just suggested they fire Gomez into the sun.
“What?”
she asked, her voice a soft hiss.

“No way, Doc,” Stevens said. “We're not killing Sonya to save her life. There's gotta be another way.”

“There's always another way, Fabian, but I don't have another medical solution,” Lense said, then decided the time for delicacy was past. “Now, I shouldn't have to point out that this device is a machine, and you, Fabian, are an engineer. So do your job and find another way.”

Like a splash of ice water, her words had the desired effect, waking Stevens up from his unproductive funk. Granted, he'd only been here in Gomez's presence for as long as she had, but from the moment he came in here he should have been working to find a solution, instead of dwelling on the first officer's dire condition.

Stevens moved toward the machine and began examining the connections and machinery in the alcove. Lense noticed Sonya's bright eyes following his every move. After several minutes, he turned back to her and Corsi.

“The conduits along the wall appear to feed power to the machine,” he said, pointing them out, “and it's the machine that's holding the commander. If we could interrupt the power flow, just temporarily, it might be enough to break its hold on—”

“Power is life!” Sage-Gomez cried out, almost in a panic. “The Light is all!” She turned her piercing gaze on the assembled natives, and they abruptly began to move toward the away team.

“Oh, dear,” Lense said.

“Um, all in favor of my plan?” Stevens asked.

“It's great, Fabe,” said Corsi, raising her phaser toward the advancing crowd. “Do it.”

“I could use a little time here, and the added pressure of these zombies isn't helping.”

Corsi swung her phaser up at the conduit connections Stevens had pointed out and fired, but a Borg-like shield sprung up and absorbed the energy. She raised the power setting and fired again, but the results were the same.

“Any other requests?” she asked.

“Any Klingons up your sleeves?”

“Afraid not.” Corsi backed up a step, then muttered something Lense couldn't quite make out. She fiddled with the phaser settings then aimed at the crowd.

“No!” Sage-Gomez shouted as though anticipating Corsi's action.

Corsi hesitated, her firing arm quaking a little and a grimace of frustration pulling at her mouth. Lense willed her to press the trigger, but she had a feeling Corsi's loyalty to Gomez, even in her current state, was stronger than her need to shoot the natives.

“Dammit,” Corsi said. She raised her phaser up toward the ceiling, and Lense heard the power setting change once again. Corsi fired, then dodged out of the way as a shower of rock and dust rained down upon the ground. She then pointed the phaser back at the crowd, who seemed to get the unspoken message and ceased their advance. “Okay, Fabe. You're on.”

“Stevens to Pattie,” he said in an eerily calm voice, “how are things going up there?”

“Mission accomplished,”
the Nasat's voice said through Stevens's combadge.
“I've informed the captain, and we were just waiting to hear from you.”

“Tell Soloman ‘good work,' and have him and Hawk beam back to the ship,” Stevens said. “Have them assure the captain that everything's under control down here.”

“Is it?”

“Of course it is.”

“Just checking. What about me?”

“I need you to find me a Borg power flow regulator that's intact and bring it down to me on the double.”

“I'm on it. Blue out.”

“Now we wait,” Stevens said to his companions.

Lense nodded. “And hope Domenica's demonstration is effective for another five or ten minutes.” Then she held her hands up defensively and let herself grin despite the circumstances. “No pressure, though.”

A smile broke through Corsi's grim facade, and the security chief laughed softly. Lense smiled back and was pleased that whatever mental place Corsi had been in earlier, she'd now left it far behind.

“I
'm all set up here,” Pattie said, perched atop Sage's alcove machine. With Stevens's help, they had connected the Borg power flow regulator she had retrieved from the cube to the conduits leading from the wall to the machine itself. In theory, once activated, the power would be redirected in a circular loop, keeping it from the machine itself and causing it to release Gomez. Once that happened, they would allow the power to flow back into the machine, and everyone would be happy.

Again, in theory.

“Power is life!” Sage-Gomez called out once more.

“She certainly is unrelenting on that point, isn't she?” Stevens remarked.

Pattie looked down at her friend and crewmate and found it difficult to see Gomez in her present condition. The human looked so forlorn, locked in that vertical position and in her new state of mind. Pattie imagined that Gomez was aware of everything going on around her but was unable to break free of the machine's conditioning.

We're coming for you, Commander,
she thought, then said aloud, “She seems to know what we're planning.”

“She does,” Corsi said. “This new Sage isn't some elderly alien woman anymore. She's a Starfleet engineer who has been listening to everything we've been saying. I have to believe Sonya's rooting for us on some level. She dropped that shield after all.”

“The Light is all,” Sage-Gomez said in a quiet faraway voice. Pattie guessed she was preparing for whatever effect their plan was going to have on her.

“All right, Pattie,” Stevens said. “Let's do this. Throw the switch.”

Pattie flicked the toggle she'd incorporated into the regulator, and a low thrum emanated from the device as the power shooting into the machine was suddenly rerouted. Almost immediately the glowing modules in the machine began to flicker, and Gomez herself shuddered in place, her entire body wrenching to and fro against the metal arms and braces that held her.

Across the room, the watching crowd of natives being held back by Corsi's phaser became more agitated as their Sage convulsed and the machine banged and groaned. Gomez herself let out a wail of anguish that filled Pattie with despair and the hope that this wouldn't last much longer.

“Sage!” cried Tey'sa and the rest of the onlookers. They jostled forward, and their slight advance began to worry Corsi.

“Stay back!” she shouted at them, then turned to look at Stevens. “I don't think they're going to restrain themselves much longer.” He threw her a worried look that represented what Pattie herself was feeling.

Suddenly, the group of bars across Gomez's chest snapped open, but since the neck spikes were still attached to her, they weren't in a position to free her just yet.

“Get ready, Doc,” Stevens said as he readied himself in front of Gomez. Lense moved into position nearby with her medkits open and a medical tricorder waiting in her grasp.

And then the neck spikes popped away from her body, and Gomez crumpled forward like a rag doll into Stevens's waiting arms. “Pattie, shut down the regulator,” Stevens called out as he lay Gomez down on the floor. Pattie did so, and the power once again flowed freely into the machine.

“Sage!” the crowd erupted again, then surged forward despite Corsi's protestations. But the anxious natives didn't attack or try to thrust Gomez back into the machine. They just stood around her and watched as Lense worked on her.

As Corsi made her way around the crowd, she paused at the machine's empty alcove and contemplated it for a moment. Pattie had a sickening feeling that Corsi might step inside herself, but then the security chief turned away, a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Tey'sa,” Corsi called. Pattie had no idea who Tey'sa was, but a moment later, one of the natives, a woman, broke through the crowd and approached.

“Do'meenik'a,” the woman said, mangling the pronunciation of Corsi's given name.

Corsi gestured toward the alcove. “Sage,” she said, then indicated the native. “Tey'sa.” She brought her hands together and clasped them tightly. “Sage.”

Domenica, what are you doing?
Pattie thought, but she knew exactly what Corsi was doing. They had taken the natives' Sage, so she was giving them one back.

The woman Tey'sa seemed uncertain, but Corsi led her toward the alcove with a reassuring smile and a gentle manner. Tentatively at first, then with increasing confidence, Tey'sa stepped into the vacant space. She let out a shout of alarm as the machine grabbed hold of her, and the outburst drew the immediate attention of the natives. There was a moment of anxiety as Tey'sa's body adjusted to its new environs, then the woman fell still as her face paled and her eyes became that striking blue.

“Power is life,” Sage-Tey'sa said. “The Light is all.”

Pattie breathed a sigh of relief. It was over.

Sonya Gomez struggled to open her eyes, but her lids felt as though they were made of lead, and she could only manage a few quick glimpses of the outside world before she gave up. But even had she not been able to open her eyes at all, she would have known she was in sickbay aboard the
da Vinci
. The sounds here were always so hushed, and there was that lingering scent of sterilization that screamed “doctor's office.”

“You had us worried, Gomez,” came the voice of Captain Gold to her left.

Gomez turned her head and tried to open her eyes to see Gold's face, but she couldn't do it.
What the hell is going on with my eyes?
“Sorry, sir. It took me by surprise. I should have been more careful.”

“Probably true,” Gold said, “but that's behind us now.”

Gomez moved a hand to rub her right eye, but recoiled as she felt a slap on the back of her hand. “Captain!”

“Sorry, Sonya, that was me,” came the familiar voice of Sarjenka, their new deputy CMO. Gomez could almost hear a laugh in the Dreman's tone. “Dr. Lense wanted me to make sure you didn't rub your eyes. It'll only make things worse.”

Gomez sighed. “Thanks, Sarj. I'll try to restrain myself.”

“I'll go let the doctor know you're awake.” Sarjenka excused herself and once again Gomez was alone with Gold. At least, she thought she was.

“Captain?”

“Yes, I'm still here, Gomez,” Gold said.

Despite what she'd been through on the planet, her primary concern was what they'd gone down there for in the first place. “What about the mission, sir?”

“The mission was a success,” Gold said, and Gomez smiled in relief. “Soloman was able to interface with the computer core and adjust the power signature of the cube. It no longer reads as Borg.”

“That's excellent news, sir. And what about the native population? After everything that's happened, have they banished us forever?” That was the last thing Gomez wanted, but she would certainly understand it. They'd caused their society a significant disruption, and it was possible they didn't want to see another Starfleet officer again.

Gold chuckled softly. “No, no. In fact, it's quite the opposite. They're very pleased with their new Sage—your former guide, Tey'sa, as it happens—and they've welcomed another away team down to explore their city. Abramowitz and Faulwell have been down there for six hours.”

Sonya smiled. “Good. I was hoping Carol would get the chance to see the place.” The ship's cultural specialist would be like a kid in a candy store down there.

“Now, as for you,” Gold said, “effective immediately you're on two weeks' recuperative leave.”

“Sir, that's not really necessary,” Sonya said. “I'm fine.”

“Commander, I tolerate a lot of things on this ship, but I draw the line at a first officer who can't even open her eyes to see what she's doing.”

Gomez sighed again, then couldn't help but smile. “Do you have something against officers with an ocular handicap, Captain?”

“Not at all,” Gold replied in good humor. “As you well know, in today's day and age, even a sightless officer has the ability to see.”

And she did know. She thought briefly of Geordi La Forge aboard the
Enterprise,
then nodded in defeat. “Touché.”

“Two weeks,” Gold repeated. “It's not open for debate.”

“Aye, sir,” Gomez said with a note of resignation. “Two weeks.”

“The first two days of which will be spent right here recovering your eyesight,” Lense said as she joined them, her voice coming from behind Gomez, then moving around to her right.

“Oh, now what did I do to deserve that?” she protested good-naturedly.

“I'll leave you two alone,” Gold said, then moved off, the sounds of his departure receding in Gomez's ears.

“What's the story with my eyes, Elizabeth?” Gomez asked. “Why can't I open them?”

“I think it's a side effect of whatever entered your system to cause your eyes to turn that bright blue. From what I can tell, it allowed your pupils to take in far more light than is normally safe, without suffering any damage to the retina. It also gave you a unique visual perception that allowed you to see things far beyond the normal human range.”

Gomez frowned. “Really? I don't remember anything like that at all.”

“It's not surprising,” Lense said. “You were pretty out of it. Then again,” she said after a moment, “it's just a theory.”

Gomez laughed and shook her head. “You, Doctor, are evil.”

“Shhh,” Lense whispered close to her ear. “Not everyone knows yet.”

Gomez grinned and decided two days in sickbay wouldn't be so bad after all.

Two days later, Gomez had fled sickbay and was back in her cabin, lying in bed in her darkened quarters, trying to get some sleep. But sleep wouldn't come. She still had no memory of her time as Sage, but what had been occupying her mind lately were those final moments just before her memory failed her.

She'd been terrified. Terrified at being so helpless against the machine as it seized her and pulled her into its grasp. Terrified at feeling her identity, her sense of self—her
soul
—being leeched away. Terrified that her friends wouldn't be able to help her.

Even now, it frightened her to consider what might have happened if the machine hadn't been as benevolent as it turned out, if she had been responsible for the deaths of her friends or the native people who had worshipped her.

If it frightens you to consider, then don't consider,
she chided herself.
Just close your eyes and go to sleep.
She wanted nothing more than that right now, but it wouldn't come. She stared up at the ceiling, which was as dull as ever, and tried to will herself to sleep by the hum of the engine.

Slumber remained elusive. Instead, her thoughts drifted to the mistake she'd made with Stevens the other night and the thoughts that had driven her to take that action in the first place. She smiled as an image of the lovely Wayne Omthon passed through her mind. His emerald green eyes seemed to plead with her to give him a chance…to give
them
a chance.