Shadows of the Night, Part VIII

7 of 9 looked up from her position, though it was purely in an auxiliary fashion. She was no longer the sole member of Species 5618 on this vessel, so her personal insights into that species were no longer as essential. Nevertheless, her biological distinctiveness could perhaps recognize information not necessarily gleaned by Locutus. "You will disarm all weapons," he stated, "and escort us to Sector Zero Zero One. If you attempt to intervene, we will destroy you."

The Federation fleet ignored the logic of the situation and tried to resist. They met a swift and brutal end. Their ships were disabled or destroyed, their personnel unable to escape the inevitable. 7 of 9 proceeded to the assimilation chamber. The air was filled with cries and pleas, but they were ignored as the irrelevant data they were. The individuals were still small, still capable of fear; they would soon be raised up into something greater than they could ever imagine. And 7 of 9 ensured that this was done, swiftly, unemotionally, and efficiently. Soon their voices joined in with the others, and the Collective's journey towards perfection progressed.

The Borg Queen was present on board the Cube to oversee the assimilation of the Federation. She had been intrigued -to put a human definition on the term- by Species 5618. Though biologically unremarkable, 7 of 9 had proven to have a mind that was quite cohesive with the Borg, a mind similar in some ways to her own species. As her own species had caused a quantum leap in Borg potential, so too perhaps could this one. So the Queen assessed the new information with Locutus, whose personal experience in this quadrant had proven its effectiveness. They learned further details: the fleet here at Wolf 359 was the primary Federation defensive force, but it was by no means the last. There was another coming to engage as well - the Klingons. A warrior race, strong, they were also worthy of assimilation.

The course was clear. While the assimilation of the Federation and Species 5618 was to remain the primary objective, this was to be merely the beginning. Half of those assimilated took their place on board the Cube to fulfill their new roles. The rest would engage the secondary target along with a group of other drones. The Cube opened, and the Sphere emerged. 7 of 9 observed the vanishing Cube, but with the expected detachment. That Locutus better served her function was of no consequence, because to think otherwise would be to think of herself as an individual. There were no feelings, no ambition, merely purpose. And that purpose remained assimilation.

Captain Riker looked into Seven's face and honestly had no idea what to say. She seemed almost on the verge of tears as she related her story, and despite the horror of the slaughter at Wolf 359, he couldn't bring himself to judge her. Clearly the grief she felt was more punishment than she deserved. "Does Jean-luc know?" he asked finally.

Seven nodded. "He did not recognize me; I am far different in appearance than I was as a drone. But I informed him of my role in his assimilation shortly after I received my commission. He- he said that it would be hypocritical for him to hold me accountable for sins he himself had committed." Her face was downcast. "He is... he is a great man."

Riker sat back in his chair. "Yes he is," he said quietly. "And I'm inclined to agree. I understand your reluctance to share this, given the relationship with the Enterprise. However, I cannot emphasize enough how vital every piece of information on the Borg is to our cause. In this case, we now understand a bit why those assimilated here wound up alive in the delta quadrant."

"Yes," Seven said. "With the destruction of the Cube the primary mission was no longer feasible. We had already eliminated and assimilated one of the Klingon contingents, and it was decided that a return to Borg space was the only logical choice."

Riker looked down at his desk for a while, then back into Seven's face. "Seven, the Collective is a big place. How-"

"How did he and I manage to meet twice?" Seven asked. Riker nodded. "As I said, when the Collective decided to assimilate humanity, I was present, as I was one of the few assimilated humans at the time. When Janeway demanded a representative speak to her, the Collective deemed that I -having already demonstrated on Planet 1865 alpha my rejection of individuality- would be most suitable of my species." She considered. "I realize this may seem a profound coincidence-"

"No," Riker said, "when you put it that way, it does make some sense." He shook his head. "It's just that the galaxy has turned into one big, confusing place."

"Agreed," Seven said with an expression of weariness. "In many ways, I wish I had heeded your advice and avoided the memory engrams."

"Well, what's done is done, commander. I'd like you to continue to speak with Borui."

Seven squirmed. "May I speak freely, sir?" Riker nodded. "I do not feel comfortable around her."

"Why?"

"Because she can sense my thought," Seven said. "I have come to... cherish, the privacy of my own mind."

Riker sighed. "I understand, but we cannot judge Borui for being empathic any more than we can judge you for being a Borg."

"Yes," Seven said, sounding thoughtful. "I realize my presence is no doubt equally discomforting to other members of the crew as we engage the Borg." She considered it. "If it is a distraction, I can assign one of my subordinates to carry out-"

"You are a Starfleet officer, and they will recognize your position as such," Riker said. "I'm just pointing out that this is a two-way street, Seven."

Seven nodded. "I will see the counselor, captain."

"Good. Anything else you should tell me?" Seven shook her head. "Then let's get back to work and make sure we never have another Wolf 359."

For over five years, the Federation Starship USS Voyager was stranded in the delta quadrant. It's crew did everything in its power to survive the nightmare of their position: alone, with no hope of replenishing supplies, of outside repairs, or of a chance to see their home again. They had done all they could to make it home, and finally they had succeeded. There was something rather ironic in their latest mission returning them to this part of space.

"Our current status report," Chakotay said, handing Captain Janeway the PADD.

She sipped at her mug while she scanned it over. "Everything looks fine," she commented. "How's B'Ellana coming with the shield modifications?"

"She says it'll be difficult but she thinks she can complete it within twelve hours if you want to proceed."

She nodded. "I think we can use every edge against the Borg we can get." She tried to ignore the itch in the back of her brain, but it had been bothering her for some time now. She was missing something, something important... "Have we finished our diagnostics?"

Before Chakotay could answer the door to the ready room opened and the Doctor marched in, seething. He threw a PADD on the desk. "What's the meaning of this?!" he demanded.

"Is there something I can help you with Doctor?" Janeway asked, nonplussed.

"Yes there is," he said forcibly. "You can explain to me how this travesty could have happened!"

Janeway turned to Chakotay. "We'll finish this later," she said evenly. After he'd left her tone became more stern. "You're out of line, Doctor."

"No, you're out of line!" the Doctor shouted. "I never should've agreed in the first place. I knew it was wrong - I knew it, and yet I still allowed you to convince me-"

"What are you ranting about?" Janeway demanded. She picked up the PADD and looked, and after a few moments understood. "Species 8472."

"Yes!" the Doctor replied. "The only known species invulnerable to Borg assimilation techniques. Until Voyager comes along of course."

Janeway read the report, ignoring the Doctor. "Projections indicate they were all assimilated," she said, unable to believe it.

"Yes! And guess how it happened? My modified Borg nanoprobes. Devices known only to this ship have now found their way back into Borg hands. The only question remains: how?" Janeway was still looking at the PADD. He slapped the PADD out of her hands. "HOW?!!!"

"Doctor control yourself."

"Control myself?! I'm a program designed to save life, and I'm directly responsible for genocide!"

"Not genocide, Doctor, assimilation."

"Six of one, half a dozen of another," the Doctor replied, pacing the floor. "You still haven't answered my question. How did they get it?"

"I don't know!"

"Oh come on, captain! You must have some idea! You always have an answer, so answer me now!"

"Doctor," Janeway said, rising to her feet. "I've allowed you some latitude but this is a breach in protocol."

"Oh to hell with protocol, to hell with Starfleet, and while we're at it, to hell with you!"

"Janeway to security," she said, tapping her commbadge.

"How did it happen?!" the Doctor demanded. "If I'm to bear responsibility for this at least tell me that much!"

"You're not responsible," she said forcefully. "I'm not responsible." The ready room door opened and Tuvok appeared, a security officer behind him and a phaser in his hand.

"Is this what you've come to captain?" the Doctor hissed. "Using your goons to cover up your crimes?"

"Throw him in the brig," Janeway said.

Tuvok came forward and took hold of the Doctor's arm. "Come with me," he said evenly.

"I thought I knew you," the Doctor said with contempt. "You used to have values. I wonder what happened to make you forget who you are?" Tuvok escorted the Doctor out of the room, but there was no answer to his question, only silence.

"Ambassador," the young man said, "your transport is here."

Picard nodded and got up from his seat. He'd been waiting here at Wormhole Station for at least twelve hours for the Federation ship to take him to Earth. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that that's what he did now. He was in the waiting business. Waiting for meetings, waiting for transports, waiting for problems, waiting for information. He had dwelt on the subject for some time now; after all, he'd nothing better to do. He quietly followed the aide, an ensign actually, to the shuttle bay. Unlike the Empire, the Republic had no qualms about using a transporter, but nevertheless didn't include it on their ships, having decided that shuttles were less likely to malfunction. Their prerogative, Picard thought.

One thing he could appreciate was the view one got from a shuttle over a transporter. Wormhole Station, in all its twenty-mile splendor, spread out like some kind of metallic sky. Dwarfed by comparison were the hundreds of shuttles, fighters, and even cruisers that milled about in their routine. The station had been built to defend the entrance to their galaxy, and was now a waystation for many travelers going in and out of the wormhole. The fleet had been building up substantially while the situation continued to deteriorate in the delta quadrant.

A few minutes later he was docked in the shuttlebay of the USS Taggert, with Captain Horace and his crew waiting. "Welcome back to the Milky Way, ambassador," Horace said with a grin, shaking Picard's hand as he spoke. The captain filled Picard in on the deteriorating situation with the Borg as they walked to the turbolift. "How far have the attacks spread?" Picard asked as the lift closed.

"We've lost nine planets to the Borg," Horace said. "But we believe that many other worlds are also being attacked. Their tactics seemed to have changed."

"It's a new galaxy," Picard muttered. "And they've adapted to it."

The door opened onto the bridge and Horace stepped out. Picard came out slowly behind. He hadn't been on the bridge of a Federation ship for almost a year, and it was amazing how little it had changed, but nevertheless Picard felt ill at ease. "Set a course for Earth," Horace said, "Warp 13."

Picard looked at him with some surprise. "Warp 13?" he asked.

Horace smiled back at the Captain. "New warp scale."

Picard nodded in acknowledgement. Perhaps things had changed more than he had thought. He retired from the bridge to his quarters for some much needed rest. It'd still take several days to get to Earth, giving Picard plenty of time to write a speech for the Federation Council. It seemed that the Republic was looking into Thrawn's claims; if so, perhaps the Federation would follow suit. Besides, with the threat of the Borg, the Empire was a low-level priority anyway.

Luke's X-Wing eased onto the ground just a few meters away from the crater. Artoo's whistle had a nervous edge to it as Luke popped the hatch and climbed out. As he jumped to the ground he saw the Falcon finish its landing further back from the lip of the crater. He unzipped his flight suit as Han and Chewie came down the hatch, weapon's drawn. "I don't like this," Han remarked.

"No one forced you to come," Luke reminded him, stepping out of the suit.

"Yeah, and I'm supposed to just wait on Romulus while you go into the center of Borg space alone," he grumbled. Luke could tell they were both nervous, and he couldn't really blame them; it must be an eerie feeling to be back here.

Yarval Outpost was dead.

Han checked out the terrain. It was disconcerting; a perfect road leading right up to the edge of this crater and just stopping, as if someone had just scooped it up - which is exactly what had happened. "Yeah, this is where the research base was." He scowled at the hole. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."

Luke sensed that Han was filled with fear and anger over the situation. "It's a tragedy," he said carefully, "but we've got to concern ourselves with the future and not the past."

"That's exactly what concerns me," Han said, kicking a rock into the pit. After several seconds they heard it hit the bottom. "Don't you know what they were researching?" Luke shook his head. "Hypermatter reactors! The thing that puts the 'death' in Death Star! And it's in the hands of the Borg!"

"Anansi," a voice whispered on the wind.

"Luke?" Han said, his anger replaced by concern. "You alright?"

He suppressed a shiver. "I can still feel them," he said. "So cold. It's indescribable; they seem to leave this place so... sterile." He reached out, trying to grasp the elusive mind but it was difficult. He sat down on the ground while Han and Chewie continued to scan the area. Luke was already deep into his meditation when Han came up to him.

"Hey, I don't think this is the time for this, huh?" he said, a slight edge of nervousness in his voice. "C'mon, let's get outta here." But Luke didn't move. Han gave him a little nudge to snap him out of it, and Luke's eyes flashed open. His voice was different, intense.

"We are the Borg. You will disarm your weapons and surrender this world. We will add its biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile."

Han had jumped back at the sound of his voice, his blaster trained on his friend, his hand visibly shaking.

"Resistance encountered. Neutralize opposition. Assimilation of ships irrelevant. Eliminate all hostile ships. Assimilate Yarval Outpost."

"Wait a minute," Han said, looking over at Chewie. "Since when do Borg use names? I thought they always use numerical designations for things." Chewie barked a reply. "Yeah, things definitely have changed," Han admitted.

"Primary target identified," Luke continued. "Planetary grid 108. Assimilate at all costs."

"Is it the research facility?" Han asked Luke. He threw up his arms in frustration as Luke continued.

"Vessel 13192 has been destroyed. Source of damage unknown. Scanning. No vessel detected at point of origin. Adapting subspace sensor. No vessel detected. Weapon identified: Class-19 Theta Torpedo. Modify shield output by 118 gigahertz." Luke's eyes slammed shut. When he opened them again his intense stare was gone.

"Hey, next time warn me when you're going to pull a stunt like that," Han chastised him.

"Sorry," Luke said, getting up. "They came for the research base, I'm sure of it. The rest of the place was secondary."

"How'd they know about it?" Han demanded. "This place wasn't exactly being advertised."

"Maybe they assimilated someone who knew about it," Luke said. "Anyone whose part of the Collective shares their memories with them."

"And inadvertently become a traitor," Han agreed. "What about that thing with the torpedo or something?"

"I'm not sure," Luke admitted. "I've never heard of any such thing. And I don't sense anything about them being involved in the holonet. Maybe you're right; maybe it was just bad luck."

"Well if you're done poking around can we get out of here? This place is seriously creeping me out."

Luke thought for a moment but finally agreed. There was nothing more he could accomplish here. But he still had more he could do. "You said the Enterprise was patrolling in this area?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well," Luke remarked as he started putting on his flight suit again, "If you want to catch a Borg, you've got to think like one."

"Seven?" Han replied. "I don't know Luke. Last time I saw her she wasn't operating on all thrusters."

"All the more reason to check in with her," Luke commented, zipping up the suit. "Can we find their location?"

Chewie growled in reply. "Chewie says the network's running again. We can contact Deep Space 19, find their vicinity."

"Well let's get moving," Luke said, jumping up and grabbing the edge of the cockpit, then tossing himself into the seat. Most pilots would have to use the ladder, but most pilots weren't Jedi Knights.

"Wait, Luke," Han said before the cockpit closed. "The people who were here?"

Luke shook his head. "You were right... they were assimilated." He felt Han's anger flare again as he hit the button to close the canopy. Han turned and stormed up the ramp, and less than a minute later the ships left the dead planet behind.

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