Star Trek:
The Borg Chronicals
by
Moshe Ender
NightDark@aol.com
Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All rights reserved by Paramount Pictures.
Author's Note:
As I am not privy to the thoughts of the writers and producers of Paramount's Star Trek, this sequence roughly diverges from the Paramount story at about the beginning of the 1997-98 season. Voyager has passed through Borg space (the "Scorpion" episodes) and the Federation is at war with the Dominion\Cardassian alliance. It is best to expect differences from the official Paramount storyline.
1:
The Ambush and the Abduction
"Life is one long process of getting tired."
-- Notebooks
"Lord, What Is Man ?"
by Samuel Butler
Intersection
This time, the meeting was called in the Other Continuum. There is no other name to describe it -- however, the Other Continuum is somewhat different from Another Continuum, and somewhat more different than Another Other Continuum. It is most certainly different to spacetime, the flat surface imagined by Einstein and a hundred others, in which dwelled the less advanced life forms, the Trill and the Vulcans and the Andorians and a billion other races, each a scattering of life in the infinite darkness of their continuum. And in those billions of races, there was one known as the Humans.
It was that race with which those in the meeting were concerned with.
It should be noted that creatures of the continuum called spacetime cannot possibly comprehend the meeting in its true form. Had an individual from Spacetime been at the meeting, he or she or it would have not been able to handle the intricacy of the meeting, the alienness of it all to not only its own viewpoint, but to its own dimension. Had such an individual been at this meeting, one of the beings there would have provided a comfortable illusion for the inhabitant of Spacetime, less the meeting had lacked a gracious host. And while the hosts would have gladly done so for the poor individual, there were no such inhabitants at this particular meeting.
However, Spacetime (or the events inside of Spacetime) was the foremost topic of conversation and concern.
"They've secured another anchor, you know," said one member of the meeting. "Just before I came, I [saw / felt / sensed] them make the connection."
"At this rate, they've already won," remarked another member.
"Don't be so pessimistic," said one of the hosts. "There's still Spacetime."
"Ay," said another host. "It comes down to that, doesn't it."
"All the more reason to prepare that continuum for battle," said the first member. "Look at the bright side, we've isolated them into the one galaxy."
"Which lets them concentrate their forces and their contacts," said the second member. "In another month, we won't be able to erase a single one of them out of the timestream !"
"So ?" the first host said.
"So it means we're leaving most of this up to the Humans !"
"You should talk," shot back the first host. Before the second member could retort, the first host went on. "They'll do in a pinch. If we can give them enough resources, they might just make it."
"Unless they use it all to bicker amongst themselves," said the second member harshly.
"If we play it just right, they won't be able to," said the first member. "And you know how they are with their backs to the walls."
"At the very least," said the second host, "the Humans'll damage them. That will come in handy, even if they do lose."
At that point, the meeting was interrupted by the entrance of another beings, specifically one of the hosts, a messenger. "Excuse me," said the messenger, in an urgent voice (if it could be called that). "Excuse me, but we just got a message from one of our contacts in Spacetime."
"Who ?" asked the first host.
"One of the [untranslatable in English], the Caretaker of Ocampa."
"I thought they had destroyed him by now," said the second member.
"Not yet," said the second host. "Not yet. Is the message important, because if --"
"Yes, yes, it's important !" said the messenger, with an almost exuberant feeling. "He's found the Trinidas, brought him to the Delta Quadrant !"
All in the meeting exclaimed in surprise and not a little joy. "Quick !" said the second host. "What does it say ?"
The massager read off in a language not known to Humans, nor to anyone save the race that created it. The message is barely translatable into other languages, having several overtones and sequences based on concepts difficult for a Human to understand. But at its very base, the message would translate to this in English:
HIS NAME IS KIM.
The Delta Quadrant
In the fourth of the galaxy known as the Alpha Quadrant, the finest starships ever to exist that part of space belong to the Federation's Starfleet. As the exploration and military arm of the Federation, Starfleet has served the interplanetary government for two hundred years. And along the way, it was inevitable that legends were made. Tales are whispered from the heart of the Alpha Quadrant to the fringes of the Beta of the six ships to bear the name Enterprise, of the tragedy of the Constellation, and, in some places, of the battleship Defiant.
It is somewhat ironic that the ship with one of the more interesting stories was forgotten by most in the Federation in the latter twenty-fourth century. This starship had set out on its first mission in the year 2371, into the shifting plasma clouds known as the Badlands. Some hours after the starship entered the clouds, it utterly disappeared. It took Starfleet three days to realize the starship was not responding. A search mission was launched, and was unsuccessful. But by that time Starfleet had encountered the powerful foe known as the Dominion, and the ships in the search were called off to new assignment. The lost starship was declared destroyed, the matter was closed.
Had a being with an extraordinarily powerful subspace telescope scanned the galaxy, it would have seen the movements of Starfleet in the Alpha Quadrant. In the Beta Quadrant, it would have seen the starships of the Klingon and Romulan Empires in their complex dance of strategies. In the Gamma Quadrant, it would have seen the massive fleet of the Dominion, manned by the vicious Jem'Hadar.
And in the Delta Quadrant, it would have seen a flurry of warp core signatures and frequencies. But if the telescope was powerful enough, if it could make out the complex signatures of individual ships, it would have found the signature it had seen before, that of a Starfleet Intrepid - class starship. The being who operated the telescope would no doubt be puzzled by this strange fact, as the distance between the starship and the Alpha Quadrant would take three quarters of a century to commute.
That starship was, in fact, the starship lost to the Federation in 2371. It had been knocked there by an alien of unknown origin, and had found it impossible to be transported by similar means back to its home. Resigned to its fate, the starship began its impossible journey home, finding shortcuts here and there along the way, but most of time left on its own.
The starship's name was Voyager, and in the end of the year 2375, it had, by both luck and conventional means, transversed 16 of its 75 year journey.
USS Voyager
Leaving the Iiain System
Stardate 52995
Ensign Harry Kim, Operations senior officer on board the starship Voyager, stepped out of the turbolift and almost immediately fell flat onto his face. The five or six PADDs he had been carrying, as a result, were quickly scattered all over the floor.
After the unexpected shock of the fall, and the equally unexpected taste of Starfleet-regulation carpet in his mouth, Kim lifted himself off of the floor. That bump hadn't been there before ! he thought to himself. He took a quick glance around the corridor, and was relieved to find that it was vacant. He picked up the PADDs and set off on his way.
The Iiana System
A heavily shielded subspace signal shot out of Voyager and threw itself away from the starship, to a point eighty-five AUs from the rapidly accelerating starship's course. The frequency bound into the radiation emitted by the ship's warp engines, Voyager, both crew and computer, did not detect it.
Nor did the sensors pick up another subspace signal two seconds later, transmitted by that indiscreet point eighty-five AUs away from Voyager. Somewhere in the starship, a piece of machinery that shouldn't have been there activated.
And somewhere inside that point that trailed Voyager at eighty-five AUs, a viewscreen activated. A request was imputed into the computer, which relayed it back to the machine on Voyager, which in turn sent back the requested information. The requested information had, in fact, come from Voyager's computers, and looked like this:
USS VOYAGER
NCC - 74656
INTREPID - CLASS STARSHIP, FEDERATION STARFLEET
CREW REGISTRY:
SENIOR OFFICERS:
CAPTAIN KATHRYN JANEWAY, commanding officer.
COMMANDER CHAKOTAY, first officer.
LIEUTENANT TUVOK, tactical officer.
LIEUTENANT THOMAS PARIS, helm officer
LIEUTENANT B'ELANNA TORRES, chief of engineering
ENSIGN HARRY KIM, operations officer
NOTE:
CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER DECLARED KIA ON STARDATE 48315.6. THE EMERGENCY MEDICAL HOLOGRAPHIC (EMH) PROGRAM WAS ACTIVATED ON SAME STARDATE TO TAKE OVER DUTIES OF THE CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER, PENDING ASSIGNMENT OF NEW MEDICAL OFFICER.
REGULAR CREW: 104
CIVILIAN PERSONNEL:
NEELIX, moral officer
SEVEN OF NINE, engineering personnel
The crew manifest itself had no importance to the being that operated the computer eighty-five AUs from Voyager. The fact that the being had gained access to the computer systems of the Federation starship in question carried much more weight.
USS Voyager
Kim rushed into the 0700 conference meeting at exactly 0659 and 25 seconds. Hurriedly, he went to his usual chair around the long table and sat down, nearly dropping his PADDs on the way. To his relief, no one noticed him beyond an amused glance.
The other officers had already been in the room when he had come in. Next to him sat Tom Paris, the helm and Kim's best friend since Voyager had left Federation space (and subsequently hadn't come back). Further up the table, vigorous Neelix, the Delta Quadrant native, tapped his fingers and hummed a merry tune which seemed to have been produced on the spot and in rhythm with the fingers. Next to the self-declared guide, morale officer and cook, B'Elanna Torres bit her lip, her anxious human eyes, obviously worrying about some little detail or another, contrasting with her fierce Klingon's brow. Across from Torres, the Emergency Medical Holographic Program's sardonic eyes wandered around the room, the portable holographic project a brown blemish on his otherwise green uniform. On the other side of Paris sat Tuvok, his face utterly devoid of feeling, as usual -- the Vulcan race's devotion to logic over emotions was both renowned and a source of annoyance throughout the Federation. Across from Tuvok, Chakotay looked slightly thoughtful, his eyes pointed into nothingness. And at the very end of the table preceding over it all sat Captain Janeway, at the very head of the table. She hardly seemed to be a commanding officer in her nature, but in her eyes, one could see the authority and responsibility she exercised on a daily basis.
At exactly 0700 hours, the meeting of the senior officers began in earnest. Janeway started out with the gentle command, "B'Elanna, report."
Engineering first -- not a surprise. Engineering was important on starships in the Federation; to Voyager, it was crucial. Not only was the starship cut off from the regular starbase maintenance and overhaul most ships enjoyed, it was the crew's only advantage in a hostile part of the galaxy. Federation technology had made the ship a target in the past; the power-hungry Kazon had first tried, then the Viidians and the Pralor. Torres had managed to hold everything together for the past few years, but Voyager still suffered enough wear-and-tear that a person unfamiliar with the ship's dilemma would assume he or she or it had set foot upon a ship ten years old than Voyager was.
"Everything all right in Engineering," said Torres. "We just installed the warp drives in the Nelson and Rabin. The Phoenix just needs a computer initialization before it's ready to go."
Ah, yes, the new shuttles. The Delta Quadrant had been, if at all possible, even more unfriendly to the shuttles than to Voyager. Of the original 15 runabouts the ship had carried, only 6 had survived the last few years. A month ago, Janeway and Torres had decided enough was enough. The Voyager had collected the parts as it went along, the majority of materials coming from Iiana III, Voyager's last stop.
And abruptly the spotlight went on Kim. Janeway turned to him. "Harry ?"
"I've rewritten the code to the navigational program," he replied. "The computer's should be finishing up on the revised weapon codes. All to your specifications, Captain."
She smiled. "Excellent. Notify me when it's ready to go. Neelix ?"
"We filled up our stores at Iiana," said the pudgy Talaxian quite happily. "Vegetables from !zxc province, fruits from Zmyt!h City, the most delicious meats from the suburbs of Utq@l!n..."
It was at this point that Kim was utterly lost to the meeting when a sudden and abrupt thought came out of nowhere and severely compromised his attention span, the though in question being: how exactly did one pronounce such words as !zxc ? For that matter, how had Neelix pronounced them ? For the life of him, Kim couldn't remember just how the cook (/ morale officer / budding security officer / cheerful pet peeve) had managed to get them out, while managing to communicate the exact spelling of each one, !s and @s included. After another three minutes of this, Kim arrived at the possibility that Talaxians were telepathic.
That last thought led to the question of how to back this theory up, which in turn led to complicated plots to lure Neelix into Sickbay, while at the same time getting the Doctor to conduct scans for telepathy. While chances were that Kim would never execute these plots, and other chances were that linguistic skills picked up on one planet or another had more to do with the subject than latent telepathy, Kim accepted all of this as the usual alternative to the usual staff meetings.
And, in a rather rude and abrupt manner, his usual thoughts in the usual type of staff meeting was disrupted by the usual comm call from the bridge. What made this round of usuals unusual was that the usual comm call came in the middle of a usual staff meeting.
"Bridge to Janeway."
But, despite the unusual part in a usual day, Janeway answered the comm anyway. "Janeway here. Go ahead."
"We're receiving a distress call from a Iianan trading vessel. Its captain says it was attacked and disabled. None of the crew was killed, but they would appreciate some help."
"Fair enough. Divert course to the Iianan ship."
"Aye, captain. ETA 17 minutes."
"We'll be right up. Janeway out." She turned back to the conference table. "Now, where were we ?"
And everything went back to normal. Except the subject of Kim's thoughts, who now contented himself with calculating the exact proportion of days in which something usual happened to Voyager to days where something unusual happened. But if something unusual happened more than something usual happened, unusual would technically be usual ! Kim quickly became bored by this train of thought, and went back to the subject of Talaxian telepathy and the associated plots.
Outside the Iiana System
Voyager slowed to a stop, next to a drifting Iianan vessel. The Federation starship dwarfed the other vessel; its graceful lines contrasted with the blocky Iianan construction, which had apparently seen better days.
Those two ships now stopped dead in space. This gave the third ship in the picture -- the one that had avoided detection by both ships -- the chance to catch up to its quarry.
USS Voyager
"Captain," said Tuvok, from the tactical console on the bridge. "The Iianian vessel is hailing us."
"On screen," ordered Janeway from the command chair. The viewscreen to the front of the bridge flickered from a view of a small blocky ship to one of a thickly feathered humanoid. "I am Captain Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager," the captain said to the Iianian. "We picked up your distress call."
"I am Director Quyia of the Iianan ship !Tortal~a," replied the humanoid. "Thank you for responding, Captain."
(There it was again, thought Kim from his console to the back of the bridge. How the heck did one pronounce !Tortal~a ?)
"We were attacked on our way home from Requis Prime," continued Quyia. "As you can no doubt see, our engines are heavily disabled."
"Are any of your crew injured ?" asked Janeway.
"Nothing we can't handle. Our only problem is the warp engines. You see, we bought them from a Deltarian trader, and, well, they don't do too good under stress. Perhaps if you have another engine for sale, I could --"
"I'm afraid we don't," said Janeway.
"Ah well," said Quyia, apparently disappointed. "Thank you for responding, anyway." The Iianian motioned for the connection to be terminated.
"Hold on." Only the crew of Voyager (including Kim) could tell how amused Janeway was. "We don't have a spare warp drive on hand, but our sensors show your engines are hardly unrepairable."
The Iianian almost reared back in surprise. "They are ?"
"You can't tell ?"
"I'm afraid not. Our engineer is on sort of a vacation. Long story there, don't bother to ask."
Janeway couldn't help but smile this time. "We'll send an engineering team over immediately."
"Thank you. Oh, and by the way..."
"Yes ?"
"I've heard a great deal about Voyager," Quyia said, almost hesitantly. "Your ship is becoming quite famous in this area of space. Would you mind if... I came over and took a look around ?"
Janeway shot an amused glance in Tuvok's direction, who raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. "I don't see a problem with that," said the captain. "We'll beam you over after the engineering team arrives."
"Thank you so much, Captain," said Quyia. "We appreciate this a lot. !Tortal~a out."
The next thing Kim knew, he was back in the conference room. He blinked in surprise, and wondered if he was telepathic and just didn't know about it. Either that, or I have to start paying attention to these things.
The door swished open, and Tuvok led in Director Quyia. The Iianian seemed excited (at least by human standards). His eyes snapped throughout the conference room, drinking in every small detail. It can't be that impressive, thought Kim.
Kim's eyes strayed over the faces of his shipmates. Having witnessed the initial contact with the good Director, he would have expected, at the very least, a slight bout of amusement in polite hiding, just barely visible, like a sparkle in an eye. To his surprise, there was no amusement. From Captain Janeway to Tom Paris, the room was deadly serious. Kim mentally shrunk back into himself. I, he thought, am definitely going to start paying attention.
Quyia, apparently lacking knowledge of human body language, did not pick up on the grimness resident around the table. He immediately turned towards Janeway. "Captain," he said, feathers twitching, "I have seen hundreds of ships in my lifetime, and none of them -- not even the treasure ship of the Renax System -- are as magnificent as yours."
Janeway allowed a small smile. "Thank you, Director."
"And speaking of ships... I trust the !Tortal~a hasn't exploded on you yet ?"
The captain looked at Torres. "We have five engineers working on the engines now," the engineer said. "Just some damage to the power grid. We'll have it fixed in no time."
"Excellent !" the Director said.
"Now, Director," said Janeway, "there are just a few questions we would like to ask you."
"By all means, ask ! Ask ! It is the least I can do for you."
"Who attacked your ship ?"
"Ah, well -- I've never heard of them before, really," said Quyia. "Definitely not your usual pirates. They came out of nowhere, took out our engines with one shot, and hailed us -- audio frequency only, you see. Demanded that we gave them access to our main computer. We did, of course -- what else were we supposed to do ? They searched through our databanks, then took off. My computer expert -- Difkar, nice kid, a bit lost to reality, y'know the type. Anyway, Difkar traced their search pattern. Looks like they were concentrating on past sensor records, specifically ships we had seen in the past few days. Records of warp core frequencies, transponder codes, that sort of thing."
"Did they identify themselves ?" asked Chakotay.
"They did say something -- I can't quite recall the name. Called themselves the Prayers, something like that."
"Perhaps," said Tuvok, "the word you are looking for is Pralor."
"Yes, that's it !" said Quyia. "That's it, exactly ! Why, do you know them ?"
"From a long time ago," said Janeway, as she sat back in her chair. "We didn't expect to hear from them again."
Outside the Iianian System
The ship quietly sat 20 AUs from Voyager, its warp engines comfortably deactivated. On board, another query was sent to the object on Voyager. The query was answered, and data was fed back:
PRALOR AUTOMATED PERSONNEL UNIT
A sentient robot, built by a race named the Pralor to fight their war against the Cravic. The Cravic, in turn, developed nearly identical automations to battle against the Pralor robots. Both groups of robots were programmed to destroy the enemy at all costs. They can be told apart by the color of their faces; Pralor robots have silver faces, while Cravic robots have gold masks.
The Pralor and Cravic eventually negotiated peace. The Automated Personnel Units built by both sides correctly realized that peace was a threat to their existance. The units turned against their creators, and both Pralor and Cravic were wiped out. The Pralor and Cravic robots continued their war after the destruction of their creator. Fortunately, both types of units were designed with chromodynamic power modules, a technology they were not successful in replicating. They were thus not able to reproduce themselves.
In mid-2372, first contact was made when Voyager encountered a damaged mining pod with a deactivated Pralor robot inside. The robot, designated Pralor Automated Personnel Unit 3947, was repaired by Chief Engineer Torres, with assistance from Ensign Kim. Soon afterwards, a Pralor vessel arrived, apparently to pick up Unit 3947. At the last moment, 3947 abducted Torres, beaming over to the Pralor ship. There she was forced to create a prototype Pralor unit, with a type of power source that could be easily replicated. This being a violation of the Prime Directive, Torres destroyed the unit upon learning that the Pralor destroyed their creators. The Pralor vessel was neutralized when a Cravic vessel engaged it, thus giving time for Voyager to beam Torres out. Detailed photographic recordings available. Links to logs created at that time are available. Sensor Analysis of Pralor Weaponry (inc. radiation traces and identifying patterns) available...
On board the ship, a being considered this information for a few moments. This would change plans considerably.
The Voyager
"We analyzed the radiation traces on the damaged conduits," said Torres. "There's no doubt about it. It's definitely the Pralor."
"We left their space years ago," noted Chakotay softly.
"Apparently, they've moved recently," said Janeway. "Tuvok, start developing some defenses against the Pralor weapons. I don't want to be caught off guard, like last time." Which hadn't been the best of times -- the Pralor weaponry had abruptly turned out to be equal, if not superior, to that of Voyager's. The starship had found itself, its shields torn apart, at the full mercy of the Pralor vessel.
Quyia was still in the room, distantly following the conversation. The Iianian's eyes bounced around the room, hungrily absorbing its every detail. Those eyes were shocked into concentration when Captain Janeway said, "Director, we have one other thing to ask of you."
"Yes ?"
Janeway nodded to the back of the room. Out of the corner stepped out Seven, the recent addition to the engineering crew. "Recently," she said, "Voyager has been needing a replacement subprocessor for the main computer. While we were repairing your ship, we stumbled upon a suitable replacement in one of !Tortal~a's cargo holds."
"Ah, that would be Item F46-G," said the director cheerfully. "I got it from a load of Vipiq pirates -- primitive bunch, could barely operate their own ships. Picked it up on some abandoned planet or another, couldn't figure out what it was. I got it for 3 byisers. It's all yours... I don't wish to impose my will on you, but there is one small little tiny thing I would like in exchange."
Captain Janeway almost sighed. "And that is ?" asked Paris from the side of the table.
"As I said, sir," said Quyia humbly, "your ship is the most magnificent in this part of the galaxy. I will remember my time on board Voyager for the rest of my life. All I ask for is a small souvenir, to remember the time. Perhaps one of the flashing analysis devices you have, or maybe a few of those little ceramic cups you drink that black liquid out of..."
"Two coffee cups," said Neelix.
"Six," said Quyia.
"Three cups, and I'll throw in a copy of any book in the cultural databanks, your choice."
"Done !" the director said gleefully.
"A few coffee cups for a computer processor ?" asked Chakotay.
"It's all a matter of how you use the merchandise, Commander," said Neelix. "The director will no doubt sell the stuff at the next port he comes to. The Voyager is somewhat of a conversation topic wherever we go; he'll be able to market 'em to the avid collectors of the area. By the time the auction's over, he'll be able to buy himself another ship, at the very least a new engineer."
Quyia looked at Neelix, a new respect in his eyes. "You're good at this." Neelix looked smug.
A commlink opened from the bridge. "Bridge to Conference Room," said the voice of -- Ensign Chell ? Remerson ? Kim couldn't tell.
"Janeway here," said the captain.
"Captain, the Tortal.... !Tortal... !Tortalwhatsis is hailing us. It's for their director."
Kim turned to Quyia, who had produced a communicator (one of the blocky, handheld versions) out of his robes. "Quyia here," the director snapped into it. "What is it ?"
"Difkar here, sir," a rather meek voice said out of the comm. "Could I speak to you in private, sir ? If it's not too much trouble right now, but I've found something rather important that I thought you should take a look at. I'm terribly sorry, sir, but..."
"All right, all right." Quyia turned to Janeway. "Could I take this out in the corridor, Captain ?" he asked. "It's probably just a problem in the accounts. Company business, y'understand." Janeway nodded, and Quyia exited the room.
The room was silent for a moment. "Excuse me, Captain," Neelix finally said, "but I wasn't aware of this problem with the main computer. Is it unimportant ?"
"The subprocessors in the main computer are in full working condition," said Seven.
"But you just said --"
"It was a lie."
"What ?"
"Lieutenant Torres recommended it, under the circumstances."
"Which are ?" asked Chakotay.
"That computer we found in the Tortalwhatsis' hull ?" replied Torres. "It isn't just some junk scrounged up by pirates. It's from a Borg ship."
BORG !
It was at this moment, where he was somewhere in between shock and fear, in which a stray memory surfaced into Harry Kim's eyes.
He was a freshman at Starfleet Academy, accepted as a cadet mere weeks before. He was lying belly-down on his bed, in the dorm. In front of him lay a small subspace transponder, tuned to the audio-only transmissions from the news networks. It was at that moment when it came, and giving despair and fear reign over Earth.
"This just in," the announcer of the network said. "The Federation armada at Wolf 359 has failed, repeat, failed to stop the Borg cube. The Borg have gotten through the armada and are now on their way to Earth. Starfleet is now marshaling its defense forces inside system -- they have every confidence that they will able to destroy the cube before it reaches Earth. Remain calm, repeat, remain calm. There is no need to panic."
The need to panic, Kim thought, had just ripped through 40 starships without so much as a paper cut, and was now on its way to destroy the very center of the Federation. Captain Jean-Luc Picard assimilated. God knows how many people dead. And more to come, many more to come.
The Borg were a nightmare, a technological apocalypse. They were a race of cyborgs, half organic, half machine. Each individual was linked into a subspace network, creating the huge shared consciousness they called the collective. Their technology was unmatched anywhere, as was their mechanical thirst for conquest.
It had long occurred to the Borg that it was not efficient to simply destroy other races. The knowledge (and, more importantly, the technology) of those races, they decided, could be put to work for the Borg's purposes. And thus was developed the dark technique of assimilation. Mechanical implants would be placed inside the body of the unfortunate sentient who had engaged them, slaving that being's mind to the Borg's will. Once one was assimilated, one was then one of the Borg, incapable of resistance, no longer an individual. It was in this way the Collective expanded to include thousands of worlds and hundreds of races.
They slowly expanded their territory. Race after race fell to them; technology after technology was added to their own. They would not stop until the entire part of the galaxy in which they lived was assimilated. After that, they would go onto the next part, then the next, and would not cease until their territory was the galaxy itself. And after that, the closest galaxy; then the next closest, and the next. In all truth, the Borg would never stop expanding, never stop assimilating. There would always be another galaxy they did not control, another race they had not engaged. But the Borg accepted that. They were half machine, and were thus very patient.
All in all, Kim might have had a chance not to engage the Borg, had not Voyager unfortunately ended in the Delta Quadrant: the part of the galaxy in which the main part of Borg territory lay.
The Voyager had gone through Borg space about a year before. It had been a terrifying experience, one that had been burned into Kim's memory. Had it not been for a massive alien strike against the Borg, he doubted the ship would've gotten out intact. Now they were well out of that horrible place, and would never look back. However, there were a few reminders of that time here and there -- for example, Seven.
On their journey through Borg space, Voyager had managed to capture a Borg drone. It had eventually become evident that the drone, designated Seven of Nine, was a human female, assimilated by the Borg at an early age. Once disconnected her from the collective, the drone had eventually become part of the crew. She had shortened her name to Seven, and been assigned to Engineering.
Seven's past had never come back to haunt her. The word Borg was never mentioned on board the ship, save in the whispers of the crew. Whether or not her new life on board ship disturbed her, Kim did not know; her face was like that of a Vulcan, constantly logical, not a flicker of emotion. But as far as he could tell, she had never had to look back at her life with the Borg, never had to face her past.
Never, until now. Kim wondered how she would react.
In the middle of the shocked silence following Torres' announcement, Quyia came back in.
The Iianian lacked his customary cheerfulness. His feathers had extended outward; the expression on his face was one of anxiety. If he hadn't looked so distressed, he would have looked ridiculous.
"Captain," he said. "We have something you should know. Difkar, tell them."
"I managed to pin down the sensor pattern the attackers were looking for," squeaked Difkar through the communicator. "I first ran it through the Iianian transit database, and didn't find anything. I tried the public databanks, but that didn't work eit --"
"Just tell them, Difkar !" Quyia said, looking more annoyed than distressed now.
"Yes, sir !" the meek voice said at an incredibly fast rate of speech. "The Pralor were looking for a sensor pattern that matches that of -- of -- oh, I can't pronounce this name !"
"Voyager," the director filled in.
"Voyager !"
It took a moment for Kim to decode the fast barrage of words, and another moment to absorb the implications. Paris beat him to it:
"The Pralor were looking for Voyager ?" the helmsman exploded.
Janeway sighed, with the expression of one who had too much to think about. "Thank you, Director," she said. "I believe we have had enough surprises for one meeting. Adjourned."
USS Voyager
Stardate 52996
Kim looked through the viewport in his quarters. He had a good view of the !Tortal~a, as it lumbered away from Voyager at impulse power. Having been sufficiently repaired to make it back to Iiana, its blocky engines activated. And with a flash of rainbow light, Voyager and the ship with the impossible name parted company, for the first and most likely the last time.
He went back to his computer terminal and a rather vicious struggle between him and the computer's search engine. He was trying to find the works of the famous Tellerite humorist Ramvab. The best the computer could come up with was an ancient Earth scholar by the name of Maimonides. It's impossible to find a good cultural search engine these days, Kim reflected. He tried again...
... and promptly, his comm badge beeped. He sighed and hit it hard -- hard enough to knock the badge across the room. "Kim here," he called out as he retrieved the communicator.
"Harry ?" said Paris' voice. "You know 'bout the shuttle test tomorrow, right ?"
"The Nelson's flight test ?" said Kim as he fumbled the badge.
"Yeah, something's come up. Could you take over for me ?"
Kim smiled knowingly as he stabilized the badge in his hand and tried to place it on his tunic. "Date with B'Elanna, hmmm ?"
"It's the only time we're both free for the next week."
The attempt to replace the badge utterly failed. It fell to the ground.
How long had his friend been involved with Torres ? Kim tried to recall as he bent down again. Almost a year now.
"Sure," he sighed as he swiped the badge off the carpet.
"What ?"
"Sure, if it's okay with the captain."
"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."
"You better believe it," he said crossly, more annoyed by the comm badge than anything else. Paris ended the call on his end, leaving Kim to once again unsuccessfully attempt to reattach his badge. Do I have to glue this thing on ?
The Voyager had entered warp once again. Its next stop would be a day later, at a location predetermined to be perfect for shuttle tests. It was still unaware of the hidden vessel, which quietly followed Voyager at a distance of a half million kilometers.
The Qutaran Cloud
It was a large cloud of dust and gas, created by the explosion of a star five thousand years ago. A thick density allowed light from far-off stars to reflect off the cloud. This created a light show of unsurpassed size and beauty, available to whomever could see it.
The next closest star lay six lightyears away from the cloud, and bore many similarity to the far-off sun known as Sol. Around the star orbited an inhabited Class-M planet, known as Zalcoris. The cloud could easily be seen by the naked (Zalcorian) eye; indeed it was a prominent object in their sky. Though the Zalcorians had not yet achieved warp travel, they did have telescopes, and thus had the capability to look deep into the heart of the celestial object. Every day, sentients around Zalcoris peered into their instruments and focused on the cloud. Scientists did so routinely, in order to observe the gravitational collapse of the cloud into itself, which someday would give birth to a new star. Amateur astronomers focused into the night sky, simply to appreciate the beauty of it. Others observed for completely strange reason; in fact, a major religion had sprung up on Zalcoris, proclaiming to the effect that the future of the galaxy could be predicted by the average density of the cloud, a factor which changed on a daily basis.
And so it was that, six years after the Federation stardate 52997, that observers all around Zalcoris were shocked to discover a rather unnatural pinpoint of light, hovering just outside of the cloud. They were in for a show.
At the edge of the Cloud
Stardate 52997
"Shuttle Nelson, you are clear to launch," reported the computer. Kim pressed the appropriate button, and the runabout lumbered out of the bay.
It was easier than Kim remembered. He had not piloted a shuttle for several years (in part due to a rather bizarre experience involving the shuttlecraft Drake and a stream of chroniton particles), but one rarely forgot their training in such matters.
This was the Nelson's first flight. Paris had tested the Phoenix while they were still in the Iianian system, and the Rabin still required shields. All of the shuttles, however, had yet to receive all the computer software needed. As a result, the Nelson only had rudimentary shields and no offensive weaponry. Still, Torres had managed to bring the sensors and engines up to full capability, and had even managed to get the on-board transporters working. The computer would test that all out as they went through the flight. All in all, it would take less than a half-hour.
Kim opened a channel to Voyager. "Nelson to Voyager," he said. "Beginning test run on warp engines."
"Noted and logged," replied Tuvok's dry voice.
Kim punched another button. The engines hummed, and Nelson threw itself forward at exactly one-sixteenth of the speed of light. He sat back in his chair and relaxed.
This was going to be a piece of cake.
USS Voyager
The Bridge
Five minutes later, with the Nelson a good million and a half kilometers distant, a routine sensor scan picked up something that, had it been capable of emotion, would have distressed the computer. Emotional ability or not, the computer did what it had been designed to do, what it was best at: it passed the information on to the crew.
On the bridge, Tuvok's console beeped.
The Vulcan checked it, and said, "Captain, there are two ships approaching us through the dust cloud."
"On screen," Janeway said.
The viewscreen obediently showed a forward image. There, in the hugeness of the cloud, one could just barely see two specks of an approaching mass. Tuvok enlarged the view, and everything changed.
Two Pralor ships plowed through the cloud. Triangular in shape, silver in color, roughly the same dimensions as Voyager; Janeway identified them on sight.
"Go to Yellow Alert," she said. "Tuvok, put up the shields. Standby phasers. Voyager to Nelson -- get back here, Harry. Now."
The Nelson
The runabout's excellent sensor array picked up the Pralor a few seconds after Janeway's order came through. Kim gulped, turned the shuttle around, and sped up to full impulse (too short a distance for warp drive).
The Bridge
"We're picking up ten small ships, launching off the Pralor ships," reported Chakotay. The first officer had taken Kim's customary place at Ops. "They look like fighters."
Janeway regarded the viewscreen. Ten small pyramids, each about fifteen meters long, pulled away from the larger ships at an alarming speed. They came together in front of the larger ships, in what was obviously an attack formation. Janeway kept her calm. "Mr. Tuvok," she said, "when will they enter phaser range ?"
"At their present speed, two minutes."
"Open hailing frequencies." Chakotay nodded.
Nearby Voyager
The hidden ship lay a close five hundred thousand kilometers away from Voyager. It observed the coming and going of the Nelson with particular interest, especially the messages between the runabout and the starship. The Pralor ships it all but ignored; those were not a threat.
On board, the commander turned to address its assistants. "Prepare initiation of final phase, on my mark."
The Bridge
"Hailing frequencies open," the computer reported.
"Pralor ships," said Janeway from the command chair, "this is the Federation starship Voyager. We mean you no harm. Please break off your course."
No response. "Pralor vessels, this is Voyager. Once again, please break off your course..."
At that moment, the Pralor transmitted one message. It was audio only, brief, to the point, and somewhat strange under the circumstances.
A mechanical voice said, "We apologize for the inconvenience."
"They are locking their weapons on us," said Tuvok.
Some inconvenience ! thought Janeway. "Red alert. Tom, evasive maneuvers."
Nearby Voyager
The commander said, "Now."
On board Voyager, the machine went to work.
The Nelson
On Kim's viewscreen, the Voyager went dead.
The Bridge
Abruptly, there was no light on the bridge. The consoles had died, the lights were gone, the viewscreen was dark; the place Janeway knew so well had gone as dead as a tome.
"Emergency lights," she said. Nothing happened. "Is everyone all right ?"
A chorus of voices answered. Janeway took it that yes, everyone was fine, despite the fact that the bridge was cut from all power and they would be out of air and dying of hypothermia in a few hours.
Janeway's comm badge beeped. "Engineering to Janeway," said Torres' voice. "Is power cut up there, too ?"
"Yes. From 'up there,' I take it Engineering has the same problem."
"Everything except the warp core," replied the engineer. "The containment field's backup power module went active; we don't have to worry about blowing up, at the very least. As far as I can tell, the shields are still online."
"What happened ?"
"Computer virus. The Pralor must have found some way to lock out power to the ship; I can't see how else they could've done it. I've got some techs trying to access the computer by their tricorders --"
At that moment, Voyager shook like an ancient sailing vessel hit by a cannon blast. And again. And again. "That can't be good," said Paris, through the darkness.
The Nelson
Kim could only watch helplessly as the Pralor ships open fire on Voyager. There was nothing he could do -- the runabout's phasers weren't operational yet, and one blast from the larger ships could turn him and the suddenly tiny shuttle into scrap. He briefly considered ramming them, but self-preservation deleted such a course from his mind.
At the very least, it seemed the Pralor weren't trying to destroy the starship. According to the Nelson's sensors, the larger ships were firing glancing blows to the shields. The fighters seemed to be doing most of the work; Kim watched as one dipped under a recently created hole in the shields and proceeded to target precise points on Voyager's port nacelle. But this pointed to the suggestion that the Pralor were trying to capture Voyager, instead of the less desirable option (at least from Kim's point of view) of destroying it.
Which still left the question: what was Kim going to do ?
What could he do ?
Kim heard a noise behind him. Lacking anything else to do, he turned around.
A stun blast hit him in between the eyes.
The Bridge
Almost as soon as it had started, it was over.
In the same abrupt suddenness, Voyager came back to life. The lights went on, the consoles beeped ready, and on the viewscreen, Janeway could see the Pralor ships disappear into the cloud.
"Mr. Tuvok, report," she said.
"We have regained control of ship systems," the Vulcan said. "The Pralor ships are in retreat at... an impressive speed."
"Bridge to Engineering. Damage report."
"Shields are down to 21%," came Torres' weary reply. "We've got damage to the port nacelle; nothing we can't handle, but I wouldn't recommend warp speed for a few hours."
"Understood."
Janeway spent the next fifteen minutes receiving reports from all over the ship, but she couldn't shake off a sudden suspicion that she had forgotten something. What that something was occurred to her halfway through a round of complaints involving the stress levels of the crew. "Hold on a moment, Doctor," she said, as she discontinued the comm link to Sickbay. "Chakotay, where is the Nelson ?"
The first officer checked the console. "It's just a few million kilometers away -- it's just sitting there."
Janeway had him open a channel to the runabout. "Voyager to Nelson," she said, "situation is under control. You can come back now, Harry."
Nothing.
"Harry, you can come back now."
Still nothing.
Something must be wrong with his comm system, thought Janeway. Or ours, for that matter. There was one way around that problem. "Computer," she said. "Link me to Ensign Kim's comm badge, on the shuttlecraft Nelson."
The computer beeped. "Contact not made."
"Route signal through secondary subspace array."
Another beep. "Contact not made."
"Why ?" asked Janeway. Both the primary and secondary arrays, she thought. I'll have to tell B'Elanna...
"Ensign Kim is not on board the shuttlecraft Nelson."
"What ?" exclaimed Janeway.
"Ensign Kim is not on board the shuttlecraft Nelson."
Some problem the virus left behind, thought Janeway. But why the Pralor do that ?
The Pralor...
The horrible truth dawned on her. The simple, horrible truth.
The Pralor Ship
Kim woke up with an incredible headache, right in the middle of his skull. Lord, he thought sullenly, what did I drink last night ?
And in that abrupt fashion in which all bad memories come to mind after waking up, Kim remembered his encounter with a stun blast. In the shuttle. While Voyager was being engaged by the Pralor.
The Pralor. He had been captured by the Pralor.
No, he told himself. It couldn't be. It was all a dream. You just had a nightmare. Some chemical thing in the brain. Maybe there had been something wrong with the spaghetti he had had for dinner. Or perhaps Neelix had mixed a little too much Vulcan mocha root into the hiwqu ice cream he had ordered for dessert. Yes, that was it. That ice cream had tasted a little too sweet...
But the padding under him didn't feel like his bed. And the dim yellow light shining into his face wasn't the calm fluorescent of his quarters.
I know, he thought. You're in tactical training; Tuvok decided everyone needed a quick drill to keep alert. You were hit with a phaser blast on stun, during a war exercise of some sort. In a few seconds, Paris will be looking down on you, laughing and offering you a hand.
In that exact moment, a face did appear to look down on him.
A silver face.
The face of a Pralor robot.
I'm on the holodeck, Kim thought. Something went wrong with the circuitry, it's just a temporary problem...
Oh, God, this can't be happening.
"Ensign Harry Kim," said the robot.
That mechanical voice. That unmistakable, unnatural voice ripped through Kim's delusions, his last defense against the black tide of despair.
Instinct kicked in as the tide flooded his mind. Kim tried to get off of the padding on which he lay. The robot placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back with inhuman strength.
"My apologies for the discomfort of Ensign Harry Kim," said the robot. "The weapon used to stun Ensign Harry Kim was of a new design and untested. This unit suggests that sleep will help Ensign Harry Kim recover."
Kim lifted his arms. He grabbed the robot's wrist, tried to pull its hand off his shoulder. It was to no avail; the robot, the machine, was too strong.
"This unit," said the robot, "will provide a sedative."
The robot's other arm came up. Before Kim could react, he felt cold metal against his neck, and heard the hiss of a hypospray.
The robot said, "This unit suggests Ensign Harry Kim relax."
Its arm let go of Kim's shoulder as the sedative took effect. Kim was helpless to stop his muscles from relaxing, his body from crumpling back against the padding. Helpless to do anything but look up at that hideously mechanical face, the light glaring off of its silver skin.
Kim looked up into the robot's silver face, and his last defenses against those inevitable, horrible thoughts broke down. The robots had won. Voyager had been at their mercy; he did not know her fate. He himself was in their machine grasp, in the complete control of the Pralor robots.
Despair overcame him, flooding his soul. Washing away his every emotion, everything that made him human. It encompassed his consciousness, unrestrained by any defense he muster, every emotion he could feel.
Until darkness, mercifully, overcame him, and he thought no more.
