Worf did not return the smile, of course, but the lines in his face softened. "Thank you, Doctor." He paused. "Is Lieutenant Nave recovering?"

"Yes. She just had a few cracked ribs. I expect to be releasing her back to duty in the next half hour."

"Good," Worf said. "She will be heading security for the away team to rescue the captain."

"I'll tell her to contact you," Beverly responded. As the Klingon turned toward the exit, she added, "Before you go, Worf. Since it looks like we're headed back to the Borg ship, I've been doing some research, and I think I can come up with something to neutralize the queen and give us a chance to destroy the cube."

He frowned. "Neutralize?"

"It's...a theory I want to test. I'm sure the queen has metamorphosed from a Borg drone because of a feminizing hormone. If I can develop a chemical to counteract that hormone before we reach the Borg ship, then we might be able to transform the queen back to a drone..."

Worf shrugged. "There is a simpler way, Doctor."

Killing, of course. Beverly briefly averted her gaze. "I know. But...I can't help thinking I'm on the verge of a breakthrough here. Call it instinct. If we can transform the queen back into a drone, then...then there might be a way to prevent the transformation from occurring again. Ever. It would send the Borg into disarray. Weaken them."

Worf's brows raised; she had caught his interest. "That," he said, "sounds like a very worthy pursuit, Doctor. If there is any a.s.sistance that you need..."

"You'll be the first to know," she said. "Thank you, Worf." She was referring to more than just his offer of help; she was thinking of Jean-Luc as she said it.

He seemed to understand. He hesitated for a moment, then awkwardly, quietly said, "Thank you, Doctor." Then he turned and was gone.

Impatient, Sara Nave ignored the doctor's orders to remain on her diagnostic bed and wait until Crusher came to release her. Instead, Nave sat up-gingerly, because her two cracked ribs, although healed, felt stiff-and swung herself around so that she could stand. Holding her tender side, she headed out toward the lab, where she could hear Doctor Crusher speaking to someone.

Whoever it was left. The doors closed and Crusher turned around and almost collided with Nave.

"What are you doing up, Sara? I thought I was pretty clear that you weren't to budge until I came for you. Those ribs are still knitting. If you don't hold still, they might not heal properly and we'd have to start the process all over again."

"I have to get to the helm," Nave insisted. "It's critical that I monitor the ship's course-"

"You're not the only competent helmsperson on this vessel," Crusher said. "The helm's being taken good care of. Commander Worf will let you know when you're needed. Unless you want to go somewhere now-and wind up having to come back to sickbay for twice as long." She gestured toward Nave's diagnostic bed. "Now, shall I escort you, or can you find your way back?"

Nave sighed in defeat. "I'll go..."

Crusher turned back toward the lab. Nave moved toward her bed, but as she did, she caught sight of Counselor T'Lana lying in a nearby surgical alcove.

She'd been quite worried about the Vulcan. When the medics had carried T'Lana to the lift, Nave had overheard one of them mention she was in shock from blood loss.

Careful not to draw Crusher's attention, Nave moved silently to T'Lana's side. The Vulcan skin was pale, sallow. With her long lashes and cherubic lips, she seemed very, very young-As young as me, Nave thought, though she had no idea how to gauge a Vulcan's age. T'Lana's eyes were closed as if she were sleeping, but when Nave stepped up beside her, her eyes snapped open at once.

"Counselor," Nave said, a bit startled. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"It is not a disturbance." T'Lana was sharp, thoroughly alert. She pushed herself up on her elbows, as if she found it unsettling to be lying down in the presence of someone standing. "It is fortunate that you have come. I was aware that, on the bridge, you applied manual pressure in order to stop my bleeding."

"Yes," Nave said.

"Doctor Crusher said that the action saved my life. Thank you."

Nave felt herself flush. "It was nothing. You would have done the same for me."

T'Lana gave a single grave nod. "Yes. You are a valuable officer. It would be logical."

Nave shook her head and allowed herself a smile. "Naturally."

"I'm glad you are well, Lieutenant," T'Lana said. "What is our course heading? Are we returning to a safe location?"

"I have no idea," Nave said. "I just got out of bed myself; I haven't had the chance to talk to anyone. Frankly, I hope we're returning to the Borg vessel."

"Why would you wish such a thing? It would put the ship and crew in great danger."

Nave's temper flared, and she did not try to keep the heat from her voice. "Because my friend is there. Because the captain is there. Do you think we should just leave them there-to be Borg drones? So that they can fight against us later? So that other Starfleet officers, on some other starship, can come and kill them without even knowing who they are?"

"I would regret losing the captain and a fellow officer," T'Lana said softly. "But leaving would be the logical thing to do."

"What is logical about betraying your friends and crewmates to keep yourself safe?" Nave countered. "If that's logic, then the h.e.l.l with it. I'll take loyalty any day."

She turned on her heel and-ignoring her aching ribs-went back to her bed.

Half an hour later, Worf stepped off the lift onto the bridge. The air had been filtered and brought up to standard oxygen levels, and all systems were back in operation, but there would be no time to repair the damage to the hull.

Worf had seen hull breaches before. This one did not compare to the damage done to the hull during their encounter with Shinzon, but still, it was not a sight he could ever become accustomed to. The great crack overhead, the shimmering force field with stars just beyond, inspired an eerie sensation.

He felt relieved to have made his decision; he was already impatient for action. He nodded briefly to Ensign Allen, who was back at his station, and at Lieutenant Nave, who had swiveled in her chair to face him, awaiting orders.

"Ensign," Worf said by way of greeting as he a.s.sumed the captain's chair. "Lieutenant. Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir," Nave said, and Allen echoed the sentiment. Nave hesitated, then colored faintly as she said, "I saw the course heading, sir. May I ask, are we running away?"

"No," he replied simply. "Just tending to repairs and getting out of the Borg sensor range. We'll be returning to the cube and I will be calling on your services as acting security chief shortly."

"Thank you, sir." Nave favored him with a somber smile before turning back to the helm.

As she did, the lift doors opened, and Geordi La Forge emerged. He came to stand beside Worf with a faintly worried expression.

"Report, Commander," Worf told him.

La Forge kept his voice low. "I've looked over your plan. I'm pretty sure it can be done in the time we have."

Worf scowled at him. "But?" Behind him, the lift doors opened, but he kept his attention on Geordi.

"Well, we're going to require a ma.s.sive amount of energy. Energy we don't have right now, especially considering the damage to the saucer section."

"I have already taken that into consideration," Worf said. "We will need to separate the ship."

"Exactly what I was going to suggest," La Forge agreed. "In that case, I think we can do it. If you can manage to get those codes."

Worf nodded. "Considering the alternative, I do not think that will be a problem. How soon do you think you can be ready for us to return to the Borg cube?" As he asked the question, Counselor T'Lana arrived and soundlessly took her seat beside the Klingon. Worf watched her in the periphery of his vision. Being a Vulcan, she had doubtless heard his question even though they had spoken quietly.

"Within the hour," La Forge replied. "Depending on how extensive the process-"

Worf cut him off. "Prepare the ship."

"Yes, sir." La Forge nodded and left the bridge.

As soon as the turbolift doors closed, T'Lana addressed Worf suddenly, formally. "Sir. May I ask whether you intend to take the Enterprise back to the vicinity of the Borg vessel?"

Defiant, Worf looked down at her. "I do."

"Then I wish to make a formal objection, Commander."

Worf studied his expectant crew and considered the situation. "We will discuss this in the captain's ready room," he said, indicating for her to head in before him. She smoothly crossed the bridge while Worf moved to speak privately with Ensign Allen. He waited until the doors to the ready room closed behind the counselor before speaking so that he could not be overheard. He wanted to have his discussion with T'Lana before he revealed the nature of his plan.

T'Lana was still standing when Worf entered the ready room. The acting captain walked behind the captain's desk and gestured for T'Lana to sit first, but she remained on her feet. The situation was too serious for a relaxed discussion, and she expected the encounter to be brief. She felt no small amount of helplessness: the ship was heading for disaster, and she was unable to stop it. No one aboard the Enterprise had taken her advice, and she did not expect this time to be any different. But she felt compelled ethically to try again, to state her position-as forcefully as possible.

But before she could do so, Commander Worf faced her. His expression and posture were even more fearsome and challenging than usual as he asked, "Before our argument begins, I must have your answer: Why do you dislike Klingons?"

The question was entirely unexpected. "I neither like nor dislike Klingons," T'Lana said, "though I find your race to be more emotional and hot tempered than even humans. But your culture shares some values with that of Vulcans: personal honor, for example."

"Then is it me that you dislike?"

T'Lana stiffened. The question might have unnerved someone with less control; certainly, Worf's eyes were unsettling enough. Despite his defiant demeanor, T'Lana still saw the light of attraction in them.

And she did not, she told herself firmly, respond to it at all-although his fierce expression and stance reminded her of bold brush paintings she had seen of ancient Vulcan warriors.

"I see no point in pursuing such a useless topic," she said. "I urge you to reconsider returning to the Borg vessel. Captain Picard refused to listen to reason-and the away team was either killed or lost. Now he himself has been a.s.similated by the Borg and will be used to do the one thing he wished to avoid-destroy the Enterprise and harm Starfleet. How many more are you willing to sacrifice, Commander?"

Beneath his thick, knitted brows, his deep-set eyes were narrowed, his breathing had quickened. One of his hands had unconsciously clenched in a fist. T'Lana looked pointedly at it and said, "You see? If your return had anything to do with logic, you would not be angry at me, Commander. But it has nothing to do with reason and everything to do with emotion. That is why I do not approve of your being in charge of this vessel; you have demonstrated that you let emotion guide you in making the most critical of decisions." She realized that her pitch had risen slightly, almost as if it contained a trace of heat. Impossible, she told herself. She did not permit herself to indulge in anger. No doubt she was simply reflecting the Klingon's mannerisms back to him.

Had the desk not been between them, he would have stepped closer, a mere hand's breadth from her face. His eyes, his expression betrayed the fact that he knew precisely the incident to which she referred. Even so, he demanded, in a deadly low voice, "What are you speaking of, Counselor? When did I demonstrate such a thing?"

"When you rescued Jadzia Dax," she said, un-cowed. "It was a rash, purely emotional act. The spy Lasaran was killed as a result...as were countless others, in a pointless war."

He recoiled at that. His expression went slack, and his broad, straight shoulders bowed slightly beneath the weight of an invisible, intolerable burden. T'Lana got the impression that he would have liked to sit down, but he was far too proud. He lifted his chin. "That is not common knowledge. The incident with Lasaran was cla.s.sified. How is it that you learned of it?"

"I served as counselor," she said, "on the Starship Indefatigable. Karina Wozniak was my captain. We were on an errand of mercy on the outskirts of the Dominion War zone when we were attacked by the Jem'Hadar. Captain Wozniak and most of the bridge crew were killed in that attack." She paused. "Later I served as a diplomatic liaison to the Romulans. I worked for Starfleet Intelligence and, as a result, learned the details of Lasaran's murder."

"So this is why..." Worf began, then trailed off; he seemed to look past her, at a distant memory, then collected himself with singular dignity. "I agree, it was a poor decision, one that I have regretted each day since. I am sorry for the death of your captain and your crewmates. If it were possible, I would change the past. But I cannot. I want you to know that...I have refused a promotion to become the permanent first officer of the Enterprise-for the very reason you mention. I do not feel worthy of command. I asked Captain Picard to find a more appropriate replacement. In the meantime, I command this vessel, and I will decide the best course of action."

His words were uttered with perfect sincerity; humans would have said, He has spoken from the heart. This was not the hot-headed Klingon she had judged him to be. T'Lana looked on him and felt some of her resistance toward him melt away. "And you feel the best possible decision is to violate the order of your captain? I urge you: take the ship to safety and alert Starfleet. Await the arrival of Seven of Nine, who is now best qualified to find a solution."

Worf studied her a long moment, then said, "I have heard of the incredible loyalty of Vulcans to their commanding officers. Is this true?"

The image of Wozniak's charred features flashed in her mind as she answered, calmly, "It is."

"Your Captain Wozniak...were you with her during the attack?"

"We were both on the bridge."

Worf gave a slight, respectful nod, as if acknowledging the horrific memory. "Were you...able to help her?"

"She could not be helped," T'Lana answered, her voice tight, controlled. She had worked through the memory many times, she reminded herself; it no longer troubled her. The past was simply the past. Wozniak was gone and no longer suffered. "I could not tell whether she was alive or dead. Her injuries were too grievous. She certainly would not have survived being taken to sickbay."

"But you would have saved her life if you had been able."

"Of course."

"Does logic always override loyalty?"

T'Lana did not answer immediately, and the Klingon took advantage of her silence.

"You were loyal to your captain," Worf said. "That is something I respect. And I am loyal to mine-even though I am refusing to obey his last command to me. I will not leave and allow him to cause irreparable harm to Starfleet. He has suffered this dishonor once before. I will accomplish his goal: to stop the Borg." He paused. "In order to achieve what is best for the captain, and for the crew, I must disobey him. But emotion does not always have to be separate from logic. Ensign Allen is, right now, contacting Admiral Janeway so I may discuss the situation. If we fail, Starfleet needs to be prepared. At the same time, I need her permission for something as well. However, I should warn you that if she does not grant me that permission, we will be going back anyway. Because if we do not stop the Borg here and now, millions will die." A faint ripple of emotion-grief? T'Lana wondered-crossed his features. "Do you understand, Counselor? We have the opportunity to save millions. If this crew must die in order to do so, then we will do so willingly.

"I do this for the good of the many, not for the few or the one," Worf continued, with unaffected eloquence. "Is that not logical?"

T'Lana stared at him a long moment. She thought she had understood the Klingon; now she saw that her opinion of him had been one-sided and simplistic. She had failed to realize the depth of his intelligence or his wisdom. She opened her mouth to say, Perhaps it is. But a voice filtering through the ready room interrupted her.

"Crusher to Worf..."

Worf answered the signal. "One moment, Doctor." He glanced down at T'Lana. His defensiveness was entirely gone. His manner was solicitous, even gentle. "Did you have anything further to say, Counselor?"

She shook her head and answered just as gently, "No, sir."

"Dismissed."

Worf sat heavily at the captain's ready room desk. Confessing his feelings had been painful, but he felt that T'Lana had deserved the truth. He admired her for confronting him-he had expected no less of her-and for stating her opinion forcefully. She was very different from any other Vulcan he had met.

After he had explained his reasoning, he could not read her expression-it was too subtle for human, much less Klingon, eyes-but she seemed to have finally understood his decision.

At any rate, there was no time to argue with her any further on the subject.

He addressed the invisible Beverly Crusher. "Yes, Doctor?"

Her voice was filled with the exhilaration of discovery. "Worf, remember you said that I should ask for whatever I needed to complete my research on the Borg?"

"Yes..."

"Well," the doctor said exultantly, "I need you."

Worf frowned. "I don't understand."

"I mentioned the feminizing hormone that can transform a Borg drone into a queen...The human a.n.a.logue would be estrogen. It's so simple, I should have seen it immediately-the antidote is an androgenic compound."

"A what compound?" The term sounded vaguely familiar, but he could not place it.

"Androgenic. Androgen is the human male hormone. Klingon males have a very similar one that produces masculine s.e.xual characteristics; in fact, they have the most potent form around. If I could have a blood sample from you, I know I could develop something fast acting that would neutralize the queen immediately."

Worf hesitated. In the interest of saving time, it was simplest to kill the Borg queen with conventional weapons. But he also realized the value of science. The more they could learn about the enemy, the better they would be able to defeat them.

"How soon do you need the sample?" he asked the doctor.