"We are th... Borg. You will be a.s.sim... Your bio log nilogical distinctiveness will be... to our own. Resistance is futile."

Seven strode from the turbolift and marched straight to Janeway. "Something is wrong. I am unable to sense the collective."

"That's a good thing, I'd think," Paris said.

"Good or not," Seven said, with some amount of fear in her tone, "I should be able to. I cannot."

"Then it's not our problem receiving them... it's their ability to send?" Chakotay asked.

"I do not know," Seven replied, and Janeway sensed that was what frightened the former drone the most.

"Captain, the cube is accelerating toward us," Tuvok reported.

"Tom, Z plus seven light days, warp nine on my mark."

Paris steadied himself and readied the ship at his fingertips.

Motioning for Seven to take a seat, Janeway lowered herself into her own chair. "Now!"

Voyager groaned as she twisted against physics, leaping up quickly as the Borg cube vessel hurtled past. Janeway heard Torres over the comm, complaining about a plasma leak or inertia! dampers, or both.

"Forward course now, Mr. Paris. Warp two," Janeway called, and with that order the bridge crew, and Voyager herself, seemed to sigh.

"Tactical on the Borg?"

"They are..." Tuvok paused, and that alone made Janeway twist toward him. Anything that would stagger the Vulcan's comments ... "They are," he continued, "dead in s.p.a.ce."

The bridge fell silent, and all eyes turned toward Seven, including Janeway's.

Seven looked stunned. But then again, so did Harry, and had she not been a more experienced captain, perhaps so might have Janeway.

"Mr. Paris," Janeway said.

"Captain?"

"Take us within scanning range of the cube. I want to know what happened to it."

Paris pulled in a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Aye, Captain."

Janeway checked and rechecked Ensign Kim's station scanners for the third time. That wasn't making their situation better.

"Captain, holographic emitters don't seem to be working. The doctor has transferred himself to the mobile emitter. That's working for now."

Janeway nodded and walked over to Tuvok's station. "Thank you, Chakotay." She tapped an intercom b.u.t.ton on the tactical station. "Janeway to Engineering."

"Torres here, Captain. Still can't get warp power online. Nothing's wrong with the equipment, we just can't generate a matter antimatter subs.p.a.ce reaction. I'd say we were in the same boat as the Borg."

"I don't suppose this is more of that chaotic s.p.a.ce we've come into contact with."

Seven shook her head once, firmly. "This is not chaotic s.p.a.ce. It has none of the characteristics that we, or the Borg, have encountered as such."

"I'm forced to agree, Captain," Tuvok said.

Janeway sighed. "Desperate hope. Before too long we're going to run out of battery power. Mr. Paris, use thrusters. Full reverse course."

"That'll be pretty slow going, Captain."

"I'm open to other options." Janeway turned, looking from Tuvok, to Harry Kim, to Chakotay, to Seven, then to Paris again. "Anyone?" In her mind's eye she thought of Torres as well, who also remained silent over the comm.

"Thrusters," Paris said. "Aye."

The captain chuckled tightly. "Tuvok," she prodded, shaking her head. "Tell me something."

"I have nothing more, Captain. Warp and impulse power circuits are intact, but energy is simply not there."

"Seven?"

"This is nothing I am familiar with, Captain. Obviously, even the Borg cube is trapped."

"We can't just sit here," Janeway said, stomping down to the command chair. "We have thirty hours of battery power. Thrusters won't last that long, and even that course is a.s.suming there's some dampening field in this area of s.p.a.ce. We could be wrong about that. In the meantime, I suggest we find out what else could be happening."

"Yes, Captain." Torres said, and Seven said the same a second later.

Chakotay stood. "I'll give Seven a hand in astrometrics." "Good." Janeway nodded up to him, then rose herself. "I'll go to engineering. Like I said: we can't just sit here."

"No, ma'am." Chakotay smiled and let her step toward the turbolift first "Thirty hours. Should be enough time to find an answer."

"If..." Janeway whispered as the lift doors opened, "if there is an answer."

Chapter Thirteen.

U.S.S. Enterprise, NCC 1701E Romulan s.p.a.ce Sector 87 "auxiliary power. Reinforce those starboard shields. Status of the brig?" Picard grappled with the slice of inner bulkhead that had collapsed in his way. Just how the Romulan warbird had been able to catch up so quickly, he wasn't sure. But again, he wondered if all of this was some Romulan ruse.

"Damage to that deck and the two surrounding decks, sir. No hull breaches, but internal structural collapse in some areas."

The captain grunted as he moved a large ceiling plate from his path. "I can see that, Number One. Where is the warbird now?"

"They fell behind again, but we're leaking a trail of coolant that won't dissipate soon."

"Understood. Picard out" Suddenly the debris was much lighter in Picard's hands, and he turned to find Spock helping heft it out of the way. "Amba.s.sador."

"Spock will suffice, Captain."

"I appreciate the help, Spock, but-"

"Neither of us should logically be here, Captain. Most certainly we should let damage control crews clear the debris between here and your brig. With your permission, I will not wait."

"Are you saying you're doing something illogical?"

"Impractical, perhaps."

"The practical isn't the logical?"

"Ofttimes not."

Picard couldn't help but smile as Spock lifted the last large part of the ceiling that had been blocking the corridor. Here was this man, this Starfleet legend, this Vulcan statesman, clearing rubbish from a collapsing ceiling, debating philosophy, and not even breaking a sweat.

"It might be practical," Spock continued as he and Picard stepped over the downed wire and insulation dust that littered the hallway, "to let those who are qualified clear the corridor. But I can think of nothing more logical than a.s.suming T'sart is uninjured and working against his harried guards, and therefore we should attend at once."

The captain could not help but agree. T'sart was suddenly very important. If he, in fact, knew what the dead zones were and why ... Picard's only problem was that T'sart had shown Spock only limited proof. Enough proof that Spock believed the Romulan, but not enough to answer all questions. Picard wanted to see that data, and more. And if T'sart was dead, perhaps the data would be lost with him.

What an odd position Picard had found himself in ... hoping a ma.s.s murderer was alive and well.

One last corner turned, and the brig expanded before them. Twelve large cells, each protected by transporter resistant materials and battery-backed-up force field doors. T'sart's was still intact, his guards unconscious under a collapsed support beam that had fallen. The beam now leaned onto the doorway, its end being held up by the sizzling electro-field that locked T'sart into his cell.

"A few more days and that would drain the field completely," Picard muttered.

"I should protest formally," T'sart said as the captain and Spock approached. "Surely you have better accommodations for guests than a collapsing brig."

"For guests, yes." Picard checked one of the panels outside the shielded archway that opened into T'sart's cell. He turned to Spock. "Radiation leaks. We have to evacuate this whole section."

Spock nodded and pulled the two guards free while Picard upholstered his phaser and aimed the weapon toward T'sart. "Stand back." He lowered the field door and the support beam clattered loudly to the deck.

"I'm no threat to you, Captain," T'sart said, smiling.

A smile on a face so Vulcan was jarring, Picard thought, and he glanced a moment at Spock. Had he ever smiled? Surely, when he was under his Romulan guise he must have. But, ever else?

"You're so much of a threat," Picard said finally, "that you've had to promise to quell a larger threat to a.s.sure yourself safe pa.s.sage. Rest a.s.sured, I won't hesitate to stun you with little provocation."

T'sart stepped lightly over the debris on the floor and out of his cell. "Yes," he said dryly. "That is both a restful and a.s.suring thought"

"What is your current heading, Captain?"

Silence followed T'sart's question. The Enterprise officers seated around the briefing table looked to Picard to see what his answer would be. He made none. He simply ignored the Romulan.

"Status, Number One?"

"He seems pretty demanding for a prisoner." Riker said.

"Ship's status."

Riker nodded to Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge, who tapped at the computer in front of him. A graphic of the damaged sections appeared on the viewscreen. "Minor structural damage. Brig area still has radiation leaks. We're working on cleaning it up, but it will take some time. We've secured some quarters for our... guest here, and made sure they're safe."

"Exhilarating, that my previously sworn enemies have my well-being so high among their priorities."

Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge swiveled around. "We've made it safe from you, not for you."

"This ship," Picard said, turning toward T'sart, "is in this condition only because we have you aboard. And you're only aboard because Amba.s.sador Spock has verified that you, in fact, have data on the cause of these dead zones."

"Dead zones," T'sart said. "Interesting term for it. More accurate than you might think."

"I want to know what you've proven to Spock," Picard continued, "and more. You're to work with Lieutenant Commander Data-"

"Don't presume to give me orders, Picard." There was an anger in T'sart's voice that surprised Picard a bit. He was sure not to let that surprise show in his expression, but one could see just how much of a facade T'sart's pleasantries were.

"You're on my ship, T'sart," Picard said. "My orders, my rules. You're here for a reason. Several reasons, in fact, I'm sure. For now, we'll deal with the one you'll admit to."

T'sart smiled. "Captain, you wound me with such a belligerent att.i.tude." He was obviously quick to regain his composure. "Should you continue to be so, you'll wound yourself... and every living thing in this galaxy."

Picard pulled in a deep breath and released it slowly, not quite sighing. "Amba.s.sador?"

T'sart turned toward Spock, who sat at Picard's right. Past Spock were Data and Deanna Troi. Both also turned and listened intently as the Vulcan began to speak.

"What the Federation is calling 'dead zones," the Romulans have dubbed 'power deserts." Increasingly, MAXIMUM WARP: BOOK ONE.

there are many names for this new phenomenon. Reports from all over the Alpha Quadrant demonstrate just how widespread this problem is. Three Romulan colonies have needed to be evacuated on a ma.s.sive scale. Captain Picard has informed me that seven much smaller Federation colonies have suffered the same need. Reports from almost every sector in the Federation confirmed that these zones, where higher energy technology has null output, have spread. Contact has been lost with Starbase 244, Starbase 15, and Deep s.p.a.ce Nine, just to name a few. All have gone silent; it is a.s.sumed all are victims of this phenomenon."

"And you know what's causing this?" Riker asked T'sart.

The Romulan was silent for a moment, and Picard wondered if he was merely lost in thought, or was choosing his words so that whatever he said would benefit him the most. "Is it actually my turn to comment? I was wondering when you'd finally ask the one person who knows more than anyone on this topic."

"Just tell us what you know," Picard ordered.

T'sart's brows drew up, and then his face took on a harshness that surprised even the captain. "You want to hear it all, Captain?" The rank was voiced as an insult. "Brace yourself, and when I'm finished, act quickly, or we're all soon dead."

The room was uncomfortable, silent, as T'sart focused all attention on himself.

"I know from where the phenomenon emanates. I know how we can get there, and I know what we must do to stop it."

"Can we only stop it? What about reversing it? Can't we make these 'dead zones' come back to life?" Deanna asked.

T'sart smiled his condescending smile. "Young child, how easy is it to come back from the dead?"

"Difficult," Spock said. "But not impossible."

An odd silence followed, all eyes on Spock, as if he had more to say. He did not. He merely raised a brow at Picard.

"Where is the proof of what you say? Why didn't you bring it with you?" Picard asked.

"Some things are not even possible for me, Picard. Secreting a Romulan warbird's memory banks in my pocket... someone would have asked why I was on board and why I was using the computer so extensively. I showed Spock some of the data from a Romulan computer console. Had we lingered long enough even to copy much of what we viewed, we would both be dead now. You wouldn't have wanted that, would you?"

Picard hated this man's smile. It was a smile that had radiated over how many deaths? A million? More? To see it here and not be able to wipe it off this murderer's face... And he was a murderer, wanted by any number of governments, including the Federation. Every Starfleet captain had standing orders to arrest T'sart should they find him within their grasp. Well, here T'sart was. Picard should just return to Starbase 10 with Spock and turn T'sart over to starbase security. That was what the regulations would tell him.