Disclaimer: I still don't own it. xD

Chapter II

Freedom, decided Fifteen, was really not all it was cracked up to be. Yes, he had the right to walk around places that weren't that cell, but he could only do it in the company of the security guards Captain Morgan had decided were to be his jailors. Everywhere he went, there were looks of hatred sent towards him, though, with no access to computer records, he could not be sure exactly why that was. From the mutters, he'd got the impression that he was something horrible, at least in their eyes, but they never stayed around long enough for him to work out why. No one would talk to him, with Francesca the sole exception, all he got were gestures and glares as he was shepherded around the ship. He had a room, of sorts, too, and whenever he wasn't expected to be a walking target, he was confined to it. He might as well still have been in the brig; it might have been more comfortable there.

xxxx

Francesca sighed, as she thought about the poor being known as 'Fifteen'. Even though it had been nearly a month since he was freed from the cell, he was still under armed guard. She didn't see the reasoning for it, but she was still a lone voice, no one else was arguing in his favour. From the comments she'd heard, very few of them even felt that he deserved the dignity of being assigned a gender, too many people were muttering darkly about 'it', or 'that thing'. Fifteen wasn't actually a Borg, she was sure of that, though how, she didn't know. She'd read about what to expect from a Borg after they'd encountered him, and he didn't fit any of the parameters the records set down for him. Yes, he had Borg implants and Borg armour, but his responses, his gestures, even his facial expressions were far too human.

xxxx

Morgan sighed as he read the latest report on 'the thing', as he called the twisted wreck of a being that some of his crew had been foolish enough to save. He may be able to pull the wool over the eyes of those he was around, but he was still a Borg, still a threat, still an abomination to the natural order of things. He may be useful, for now, as long as they still chased the cube, the thing had the potential to be of help. But as soon as the cube was caught, and destroyed, well. A few suicide missions may just be assigned to him, and to that annoying lieutenant that was protecting him. The best part of it was that no one could ever prove it. He'd done it several times before, to prune the Fleet of incompetents, he could do so again just as easily.

xxxx

And the ship kept closing in on the cube. At least one of the explosives they had planted had done its job and taken out the transwarp conduits, so it couldn't outrun them. Sooner or later, it would have to stand and fight.

xxxx

Fifteen stalked along the deserted corridor, the tracking device, temporarily disabled, still in his room. He knew that, if caught now, they'd probably kill him, but at this point, he no longer cared. They were closing in on the cube; he had to find a way back. He wouldn't, couldn't just leave her there to die. He had to find an access port, somewhere he could patch through the shields long enough to beam over, grab her, and beam back. He also probably couldn't do this alone. Francesca had said her living quarters were on this level, and he knew that she was the only one who was ever likely to help him in this, the only one who even half-way trusted him. The only problem was that he had no idea which door was hers. And knocking on any other would probably get him killed, too. But he had to at least try to get her out of the clutches of those things. He had promised to protect her, after all. And no matter what he had become, he always kept his promises.

xxxx

Francesca woke up all at once, the dream she had been enjoying slipping away like mist on the hills. She didn't know why, but some inner instinct told her that she had to be somewhere, something was wrong, though who or what the problem was, she couldn't articulate. She'd always had flashes of these feelings, almost visions, but rarely this strongly, and never at night. Sighing to herself, she wrapped her Starfleet-issue gown around her and shuffled blearily over to the door, which opened, as always, to her touch. Looking down the corridor, she at first thought it deserted, but then a glint from one of the windows fell on black armour. Fifteen. But what was he doing here, why was he out of his room, little more than a cell despite her arguments that it was against all the conventions governing prisoner treatment. More importantly, how had he managed to leave without tripping off the sensors? It should have been impossible for him to even be here.

'Fifteen? What are you doing here?' She whispered, the Borg's head shooting up at her question.

'Francesca? But why are you here? How are you, how did you know...?'

'That you needed me? I didn't. I knew someone did, I didn't know it was you. What do you want?'

'I need to find a way back to the cube. I need to find her, I can't leave her there, they'll kill her. Whatever she's become I have to believe she's still the person I knew. I have to.'

'How will you find her, though? Without any idea where to look... this isn't a suicide run, is it? Fifteen, you can't just kill yourself.'

'You're the only one who wouldn't celebrate my death at this point, and you're telling me I can't? I have to find her, Francesca. I can't live with myself if I don't even try.'

'You can't go alone.'

'I have to. Anyone going with me, they'll kill on sight. I have enough of whatever it is they did to me to pass as one of them, at least for awhile. It should be long enough. It has to be. But I need help. I need...'

'Weapons', she finished for him, 'and probably anti-grav mines, too. But if you raid the armoury then they'll know, and they'll go after you.'

'No they won't. They won't risk the certainty of assimilation by beaming directly into their hands. But I know the cube inside and out, I know where to hit to destroy it, you haven't a chance of doing it without me. If I die, so be it, at least I'll go down fighting. If I survive, promise me you will look after her. I know what they'll do to me, and I don't care as long as she's safe.'

'Fifteen, I... I promise, but try to stay safe? Please? I know you may not value your life, but at least try to come back?'

'I promise to try. That is all I can do.' The more formal language, again, seemed to erect an impenetrable barrier.

'How do we get to weapons, Fifteen? You need something to protect yourself, but the replicator won't replicate explosives.'

'I might be able to get them. It's not exactly legal, but if I don't then everybody dies, so...'

xxxx

Fifteen looked at the transmission device curiously, wondering if what he planned to do to it would work. It operated on a specific signal, so if he could *change* that signal, it would be tuned to... a smirk appeared on his face briefly as he fiddled with it. The tracking device suddenly dropped off the sensors, its signal tuned to something else. There. That should do nicely, and anyone listening at the other end would be in for one hell of a surprise. He had to move quickly now, though, before they started looking...

xxxx

'Where is it.' Morgan growled, his frustration getting the better of him

'Where is what, sir?'

'The Borg, what else. It should be in sickbay, but no one's seen it. Have you had any luck tracing the transmitter yet, Rolands? I want it found.'

'Sir, we found the frequency, but...'

'But what?'

'Well, listen, sir...' He tuned his tricorder to the required frequency and a loud, off-tune wail filled the bridge.

'What in hell is that supposed to be?'

'I think it's, it sounds like...'

'Sounds like what, lieutenant?' He snapped, eyes flashing with temper.

'Well, it sounds rather like bad Klingon opera, sir, though why we'd get that, I don't...'

'Turn it off, lieutenant, now. That is an order. All hands, if you come across the Borg, shoot it on sight, do you hear me? Shoot on sight.'

The bridge crew looked at each other in horror at this. The captain sounded like he was going insane, they couldn't just shoot someone for no reason, it was against everything they had ever sworn in Starfleet to uphold. That the suggestion was even tabled was horrifying, that he had made it an order? No. They may not like the creepy Borg drone, but he was still a being, still almost human, and they would not just execute him.

'But sir, surely you don't mean that? I mean...?'

'Mean it, Lieutenant? Of course I mean it. It's a Borg, it's an abomination, and it's less than an animal. Destroy it on sight. Do you hear me? On Sight!'

xxxx

The lieutenant hit the deck with a thump, as Fifteen stepped over the body.

'I am sorry, but it was necessary.' Moving quickly, he grabbed as many anti-grav mines as he could, and gently placed them, along with two phasers, in the sack he had bought with him. Shaking his head slightly at the scene, he pressed a button and was gone.

xxxx

'What do you mean there are mines missing? Computer, locate, via serial number, all missing mines and deactivate them. Now!'

'Objects are not located on this vessel.'

'What? Wait, if they're not here... then...'

He stared at the Borg Cube on the viewscreen. If it had gone back, with explosives, then this might be even better. He suppressed a grin.

'Raise shields to maximum and keep them there. If that thing goes up, we don't want any last minute defections, now, do we?'

xxxx

Fifteen ran along the corridors, dodging curious drones as he went, placing the mines wherever he could along the way. He hadn't found her, and he was running out of time. He only had a few minutes left before they'd blow, taking the cube, and her, with them. He no longer cared if it took him too. There was a sound behind him, and he winced fractionally, trying to keep his features as frozen as possible. He was being chased, then? So be it. He placed the last of the mines and turned, willing to go out fighting if that was what it took. The person staring at him was familiar. It wasn't who he was looking for, the wrong gender for a start, yet they were familiar nonetheless. They also didn't seem to be aggressive. He was confused, but relaxed slightly.

'Fifteen? You are Fifteen, correct?'

'Yes, I am. You are...'

'Seventeen, I've been looking for you.'

'You, you're...'

'Like you, yes, we need to find Sixteen though, she's in the maturation chamber, seeing if they took children, too...'

'She's alive? You promise?'

'Yes, Fifteen, she is.'

'Come on, then, we need to hurry...'

They ran, again, the two of them looking more legitimate than Fifteen had alone. He'd already tossed the other Borg the extra phaser, in case there was any more trouble. Both were fully charged, as he hadn't bothered to use it to disable the one truly over-curious unit that had accosted him.

As promised, Sixteen was in the maturation chambers, hammering on the door to the only occupied berth. Said berth looked strange, slightly out of place amongst the others, almost as though it had been ripped from another cube. Their eyes meeting, Fifteen handed her his own phaser. She aimed it at the door and pulled the trigger, recoiling slightly as the place she had hit didn't so much melt as dissolve entirely. The door swung open, revealing a boy of about fourteen, his face already mostly covered with the implants all Borg had. He fell out of the chamber face first, the cables that had attached him to the berth looking like they'd been cut. As though they'd arranged this, Fifteen picked him up, holding him as gently as he could in his arms.

'Right, that's everything? We need to get out of... here...' He stared at the door, eye narrowed as another two units appeared, and slowly made their way over to the group. He tensed, noted that neither Sixteen nor Seventeen had and relaxed again slightly, not taking his eye off them for an instant. If they were a threat, they were all in trouble. He felt, rather than heard the first explosion, vibrating through the deck.

'We need to leave. Now. Seventeen, whoever you two are, I need you to trust me. Do you?'

'Trust you? No. Know we need to leave? Yes.'

'Right', now holding the teen one armed, he thrust his fingers into the solar plexuses of each of the male Borg, and began fiddling furiously with his jury-rigged transportation device.

xxxx

On the bridge of the Exeter, Lieutenant Francesca Banks barely repressed a smile. Someone was trying to break through the shielding. Fifteen was alive. She lowered the shields as unobtrusively as she could, and watched as five figures, not the two she had been expecting, materialised.

'Shields up. Now.' Breathing heavily and with a strange light in his eye, it was hard to disobey the order, even from Fifteen of all people. The shields were erected, and a few moments later, the explosions on board the cube were visible for all to see. With a final concussive flare, the cube imploded and was gone, leaving nothing but empty space where it had been.

xxxx

'You...' Morgan snarled, staring at the Borg he had hoped would blow himself up with the cube, standing bold as brass on his bridge with what looked, disgustingly, like a Borg child in his arms, and four others, three unconscious, surrounding him. 'What are you doing back here? And why bring that with you?'
'What was I meant to do, I couldn't just leave them there, could I?'
'Yes. Yes you could. Or better, you could have had the decency to die with them.'
'I couldn't just let them die, not when they're like me, not when they're trapped like this...' He glanced meaningfully down at his black armour then back up into Morgan's face. 'I couldn't just let a child die!'
'It's not a child, scum it's an abomination, you all are.'
But Fifteen had had enough. Laying the child carefully on the floor, he stood up and cocked a fist in one fluid movement.
'You'd punch me, scum? Really? I could have you killed for this.'
The first punch hit him in the nose, hard enough for a wettish squelching to echo on the bridge. The follow up caught him neatly on the point of the chin, knocking him out. There was silence for maybe half a minute as the crew stared at their captain, before someone began to clap. The clapping spread, as they gave him a standing ovation.
'We couldn't have done it ourselves, of course, but thank you, Fifteen. He was acting most illogically.'
A ghost of a smile flitted across Fifteen's face at that, before his eye rolled upwards in his head, and he slumped to the deck. In the chaos of the beam in, no one had noticed that he was injured, too, the right hand side of his armour slightly caved in, and a few flecks of blood shining on his lower lip.

'Oh shit. Medics, we need doctors. Now. Gets them directly to sickbay. Yes, all of them. Isolate Captain Morgan, we don't know what's with him, he just lost it on the bridge... and yes, I know they're Borg. They came with Fifteen. Put them in isolation wards too... just keep them away from each other, okay? And be careful with the child.'

xxxx

Somewhere else...

'Hmm, interesting. Why isn't this filed?'
'It was sent in anonymously, and it's not tagged, so... we ignore anonymous stuff.'
'Mind if I borrow this? I'm all curious now...'
'Sure, go ahead, it's nothing we need...'

'Umm, guys, you might actually want to, y'know, read this...'
'What, but... we don't, do we have anyone anywhere near a Borg cube?'
'Not that I know of... wait, no way... seriously?'
'It's a report of a cube. From the inside. I think we may have a problem.'