Chapter 29
The Drones are Due on the Enterprise
"If your are going to use this person––"
"It's not a person, damn it! It's a Borg!"
-Guinan and Picard, I Borg
"Lt. Commander LaForge to Ensign Crusher. Report to Engineering, please." The Engineer electronic voice traveled though the airways, but muffled by his his uniform tunic back, and ran out the door. Chief Engineer LaForge would not be happy if he was late, which was one of his pet peeves. Not a good way to make restart his friendship with his former friend. As he went into the turbolift, Wesley finished putting on his uniform jacket, "Deck 36." Straightening out his tunic and smoothed out the wrinkles. He couldn't let what happen on Bridge happen again, his emotions controlled him. Had to stay professional, his emotions were a sign of weakness, just a fault of humans. Discipline, structure, order that was the key to controlling his emotions. The turbolift plummet down, but it didn't go fast enough, he was going to be late. The lift came to a halt when it reached his destination.
The door's swooshed open and he jogged out. He kept his eyes away from the panels that reflected back a monstrous image. It was the usual maze of octagon bulkhead corridors with gray wall and fluorescent lights. The doors had dark orange bands with bold white lettering that stated the function of the room. Turning down a corner and went down several corridors and turned left at a corner. He quickened his pace and turned a corner, coming into Main Engineering.
Chief Engineer LaForge looked up from his PADD, "Ensign your late." Snapping. Wesley ignored his Senior Officer's statement. They needed to focus on repairing the Enterprise-D. The FVWA1 Engines that once streamed both anti-matter and matter, the only thing keeping them apart and causing a catastrophic disaster was high-frequency electromagnetic field, creating energy in the process. The dilithuim crystal mediated the process of this high-velocity reaction. The reaction produced warp plasma that was shot though a series of plasma conduits, the EPS or electro-plasma system, these conduits went to all areas of the ship and in a sense recycling the left over energy, that went back into the warp core. Then the plasma was injected into warp nacelles and into a series of warp field coils, thus generating a warp field. But, that process had stopped as the system was badly damaged. Being shook out of his stream of thought. He rolled back his shoulders and paid attention to his commanding officer.
"Mr. Crusher, I want you to find defocused areas that's distributing the warp field." Wesley's eyebrow shot up, but said nothing. Wouldn't his 'talents' be better suited for leading the team that was working on warp engines or working on the team, not working on smaller less important projects? In the Collective, everyone was a assigned to task that was equally important to the well being of the Cube. That was the problem with hierarchies.
He nodded and headed over to the upper catwalk. He needed to get a an Engineering kit, but where to find one? Getting a few snickers and heavy stares from his shipmates, he pressed on. He had to look like he was doing something. Did they have something better to do other than gossip all day? Wesley rolled his eyes, petty, so petty. The bustle of Engineering was hectic and confusing, for the in Collective, they worked in total silence. He was so focused that he bummed into Lt. Barclay. Sending his PADD to a ground, Wesley shot to the ground with heightened reflexives and got the PADD and handed it to the Lieutenant.
"Here you go." Shooting his arm forward,
"Oh, thanks." Nodding, he took a while to compile his thoughts, "Ummmm…"
"It's nice to see you too, Barclay. You seem different…more confident."
Licking his lips, he finally knew what to say to the younger man, "I'm actually the Assistant Chief Engineer," Wesley's eyes flittered like a butterflies's wings. The two officers walked along,
"Good for you, you must have worked hard to get that position. Congratulations. Do you know where the Engineering kits are?" They stopped and Reg handed his kit over to Wes.
"Here borrow mine." Saying it with a bright smile, nobody wanted to help Wes and he knew how that like. They waved goodbye to each other, before heading off to where they were needed. Wesley climbed up a ladder leading to the upper catwalk. He pulled off the panel covering the circuits, then opened Barclay's kit and got the tool that he needed. Looking down at the teams of Engineers, they were like ants constructing their mound. How it reminded him being in the Collective, the worker becoming part of machine. His mind drifted as a memory resurfaced…
Sliding off the table. The air around him felt like a hug, encircling him in love and tranquility. Everything felt alive. Sharp. His senses heightened with his newly grafted implants. Colors of sentient life was gone: the reds, greens, blues and yellows. All irrelevant. But replaced by black and white view. That's all that he needed to see. He could see better with inferred, x-ray and other wavelengths that he could not yet understand. The newly assimilated drone heard heels clicking on the hard steel surface, he turned to see her. He bowed his head in respect to her, deep in his being, his DNA knew that she was the zenith of perfection and it was just an honor to be in her presence.
"You look so handsome," Cupping his cheek and raising his head to look into her eyes. Just being touched by her was an honor and bringing him closer to perfection. The drone found that he couldn't not stop looking into them. Her eyes showed nothing like a black hole sucking him in, but at the same time he wanted to know more about her. Rubbing her thumb in circles, she slide her hand down his chin, he didn't want her to stop. It felt good. It was the first, real affection he got and he wasn't afraid. Her hand sled away and touched his shoulder making him turn toward the metal wall. Then he felt something like being a water drop being carried up to form tsunami, strong, alive, he felt the others. The wall began to bend and wave like someone throwing a rock into a calm pound before turning reflective. A mirror.
His limbs felt heavy and full. The implants weighed his muscles down, his organic parts still not use to them yet. His body was still in pain from his recent assimilation; everything sensitive to the touch. Wesley watched the mirror his exo-plating lights blinking and he was amazed on how thin it was, making his movements more fluid. The armor incased him in protection, unlike skin that would bleed under most unlikeliest of things.
He touched his face. This couldn't be real. It was cold…dead…it was real. His lights blinked in his armor. He was liberated from shame and self-consciousness.The Collective didn't care about beauty and self image. The mask he wore as an Ensign came off, this was his true self, he didn't to hide anymore, he could be his himself. His life was simplified; all his burdens, responsibilities that crushed him under their weight. He never felt more free in his entire life.
"Your beautiful now. You have shed your human shell and became something more," Circling around him. He made no effort to move, just readjusted his stance to accept the praise, "Don't be afraid child, embrace this gift that you have been given," He shallowed down a lump in his throat before looking down. Stopping behind him,
"A gift that they can't understand. Your better now. Your body has been modified to include the cybernetic. Forget humanity. Abandon their principles, emotions, they've corrupted you long enough. You'll no longer have to feel pain…fear my child," Bring her hands up to his shoulders, whispering in his ear, "You're home…" Before sliding down his back and placing a hand on his hip, His eyes still reflected the same curiosity that he had on the Enterprise, but were coated over with silver, just like hers. Looking into the mirror, it was if his soul was reflecting back at him. He titled his head, somehow the name Wesley Crusher didn't fit him anymore. She slide her hands upward, before pulling him back into her bosom,"Perfection. The embrace of thousands, comfort that we can provide. Order." Breathing in the humid air, no longer feeling weighted on his lungs,"Our thoughts are one," She took a moment to pause. He nodded unconsciously in agreement. She pulled back, and turned to face him. Cupping his cheek, her hand was moist and cold with a galantines like substance on her skin. How motherly, he thought,she was so alluring.
Licking his gray lips, "My…name doesn't suit me anymore…" Turning his head away. She gave an amusing laugh, sliding down her hand his ear implant.
"You will become a great strategist, you'll bring so much glory to the Collective. Henceforth, you'll be known as Nix of Borg…" Nix…Nix…he liked it and gave a subtle smile at her. Pleased, "…Son of Locutus…" He couldn't be happier to have a home and a family that loved him. His life had a purpose again. End of an old life and a beginning of another, whole new world of pure perfection, like aPhoenix rising from the ashes, "Nix. You're the marriage of two worlds. Something we have been waiting for a long time…now we can understand our enemy…You were in chaos. We must share this gift with sentient beings."
Then the onslaught of pain hit him, soreness and tiredness. His limps felt as if they were going to fall off, his whole body felt hundred pounds heavier.
"You must be tired, Nix. Regenerate," A soft order, motherly in her head and with a mere thought an alcove turned on. Nix felt her powerful pull as his organs spasm, an uncomfortable feeling to say the least, but he was Borg now, instinctively he knew that this was his alcove, "Rest." Nix's body moved without his permission, moving under the Collective pressure. He slotted himself into the alcove, before closing his eyes. Thick wires attached to his exo-plating, excreted out green nutrients. Nix of Borg became one with the Borg Collective.
He was no Captain without his crew and without trust he was no Senior Officer. Damn! What could he do? "You have my respect, Captain, but don't think for one second that I trust you." Those words echoed though out his consciousness. Picard took a sip of his Lavender Tea, letting floral-sweet flavored, periwinkle colored liquid flow over his taste buds, and setting it down on his desk,
"Computer, play Ernő von Dohnányi's symphony No. 2." The music followed in the airwaves of his Ready Room, reverberating though the small room. A smile crept onto his face, this symphony reminded him of Wesley, when he first came aboard mischievous little boy, properly not as annoying has he made him out to be, playful, yes, annoying no. He could remember when he threw a snowball that landed on his uniform, he tried to make some excuse to get the boy in trouble. Something just happen. He said, and he was right for the most part. Something are truly out of his hands to control, but other times he could control external and internal events.
His door chimed, looking up, "Come." His deep voice cutting though melancholy tune. The door of the ready room slide open, allowing a blast of rolling string music to assault the Doctor's senses. The symphony became slow to an almost depressing as clarinets took over for the violins.
Picard stood looking out toward the stars, his back toward the door; tension coiled in every muscle of his body telegraphing his mood though the airwaves—agonized for what he failed to do. Raged spread outward toward the air though each sadden note.
Coming closer to Picard with only his desk separating them, but the Captain neither heard his the hissing of the door opening or the gentle steps of Dr. Crusher. Nothing came between the two life long friends, "Jean-Luc?" Without a word or a change in his somber, bitter expression, Picard tapped a button on his desk, turning the ear-pounding Orchestra to a reasonable volume. Sniffing the air, "Tea?" she asked, with the vaguest of gentle smiles.
Jean-Luc didn't return her smile but replied with a sharp comment, "It's my mother's blend, Lavender. I'm going to be a very sad Captain when my own personally collection runs out, replicators don't do tea justice or a good Cabernet wine for that matter." His lip thinned to a a grim line, one end tugged up when begin around her.
The older man reluctantly sat down in his chair as if it had spikes. Beverly either too loyal or not wanting to upset him, she had been around him enough to know when not to speak. She said nothing and slide into a chair. The Captain's gazed with his hazel eyes narrowed and stared into Beverly's blue eyes with such a fury with an intensity that would make a younger officer or less loyal friends and turn away and apologize. But Beverly's stubbornness matched Picard's,
"Captain, I'm going to require Wes––Ensign Crusher to have a daily check up to monitor his implants." She turned away from his deadly gaze, she couldn't control the tears following down her cheeks, "Jean-Luc he isn't eating." His bitter gazed soften letting his emotions flow out him. He glided his palm where Beverly's hands lay on his mahogany table. She dropped her hands and retreated them to her lap, fidgeting with her black pant legs.
He stared at her with an intensity, but his gaze was else where, beyond her and into the abyss of long forgotten ghosts. The Tolstoy. Kyushu. Melbourne. Nothing more but burning hulls floating in the vacuum of space, no chance of survival. Each ship picked off of one by one, by the lumbering beast, that swatted the tiny Federation like flies, that couldn't even do heavy damage do the cube. Being the helpless as that personality took over his voice and body, unable to warn his crew about the danger, wanting them to run away and not be assimilated. He would gladly chose to die that day, rather than live those eight days as Locutus.
Coming out of the past, "What do want me to do Doctor?" Saying in the most indifferent, calm voice, trying to seal his bitter hate. Picking up his cup and taking a sip.
She tighten her jaw, "Captain––" digging in to stand her ground,"I don't think it is wise for Ensign Crusher to be on duty. He has been traumatized by the Borg. Putting him in a stressful situation isn't my idea of healing, Jean-Luc. Please pull him off the duty and talk to him."
Picard interrupted with a solid command, but had undercurrent of bitter emotions and frustration. "My order stands. Doctor. Now if you don't have anything––" Beverly shot the Captain a look, raising an eyebrow, she did not want to be strong-armed into following an order, she wasn't the type of officers, who just nodded and smiled and followed orders without question,
"Have you even tired?" Spring up from her chair and sharing an intense moment with him. After a heartbeat of silence. He raised himself up,
"Don't you think I have? He simply won't listen."
"Then you haven't tried hard enough! What are you so afraid of?" An invitation for understanding shined in her eyes. Sincerity. He looked away admittedly, she caught him off guard, leaving his fear exposed to the elements.
"Beverly." Harden his expression, this was a serious matter, but anything involved with the Borg was. Beverly saw the remnants of the pain in her Captain's eyes, the same enraged helplessness in his early days of recovery, "In my experience, he'll talk when he is ready. We can't force him." He moved away from her gaze and looked down. Why did this have to happen to Wesley of all people? Why not take him, he would gladly for suffer for his mistakes, he didn't want anyone to suffer as he suffered as a drone,
"Why won't you look my son in the eye? You avoided even glancing at him in the conference room? Tell me why?"
Spitting it out with bitter hatred and hurt,"I hate them!" Slamming as a fist on his desk, his teacup and saucer jittered. An acidic taste filled his mouth as he gritted his teeth, "DAMN! Them all to Hell!" Swatting his arm across his deck, crashing his tea set onto the floor, the kettle of boiling water splashed onto his hands. "Gah! Shit!" Gripping his hand and fell to the ground. Reverting to his native language, trying to cope with the pain that surged from his hand, "Merde! Merde! Merde!" Beverly ran over to the replicator,
"Ice water!" She ordered. The atoms arranged in blue light, but in a drinking glass. Rolling her eyes, "In a bowl."
"Please specify the amount." Said the female voice of the computer.
"16.0 Oz." The water reformed and filled the bowl with islands of ice. The Doctor got the bowl, carefully, not to slosh the water onto the ready room, bringing it over to Picard. He was holding hand against his body and biting his lip to stop himself from yelling. She sat the glass bowl down and "You have first and some second degree burns," Examining his hand, before placing it into the ice water, "Where's your first aid kit?"
Grunting out his answer, "Second drawer and on the right." Crawling over there on her hands and knees, she pulled out the kit and open it to get the dermaline gel and gauze. She came back over to him, he lifted his hand out of the bowl a little bit. She flash a look and placed her hand on his hand and brought it back down to his the bottom.
"Leave it in there for two more minutes." He looked at her with a comfortable gaze, offering her comfort in this time of need. He was as much worried about her son as she, but healing was a difficult process. One the step to beginning the process, was admitting that he needed help and that was the hardest part. He so wanted help this boy, but he didn't know how. If his actions were a testament to his recovery, he came far, but not enough. That was his recovery process and how Wes reacted was different from him.
Beverly didn't want to have a relationship at the moment, but it didn't mean he couldn't comfort her in this tough time, she looked so… devastated it was if Nix was standing there, when he revoked her motherly touch. What happen in the conference room he didn't know what went on between them, it must have heartbreaking, what made matter worsts was for Beverly, was he was in his uniform after days of seeing him in Borg armor. He should never let this happen.
Jack would be ashamed of him of letting this happen to his son, "I don't look him in the eye, not because he reminds me of being Locutus, but how a I failed him." So deep in thought, that he didn't noticed that his hand was being lifted out of the ice water and a piece of hard cotton wrapping around it, drying off the water off his skin. Wincing from the scratching cotton as he peered up, she was using her turquoise jacket as a towel. A cool gel was smoothed on to his hand, as she gave him a message with her gentle un-calloused hands that healed the wounds of so many. He blinked and graze was being wrapped with those healing hands with such skill and technique.
"Oh, Jean-Luc…" Tearing off the gauze from the roll, "Can you let go of this hate to heal my son?" Honest fueling her concern.
"I hate them…" Raspy and uneven as a single tear was shaded from his warm gray eyes "I hate them…I hate them so much…" She raised her hands capturing his face, she wiped off the tear ever so gently, before bring him in for a hug.
Five hours had past and he was working on Decks 21-26. The humidity was welcoming to his lung, but it was quickly going down as the Environmental systems was fixed and returning the to standard temperature of a Galaxy class Starship. Getting up from his crunching position to go over to a panel. A drop of sweat dripped down his face, he quickly whipped it off and counted to work. Picking up his tri-corder, to find the affected circuits, truly he didn't need it because he was Borg and quickly found the autonomous regeneration sequencers and the second with ease and took them out. Then, cut the power source for the panel, that Borg implants burrowed into.
But, his quiet work was interrupted by loud talking,
"What's stopping him for contacting the Collective again?"
"I've heard that he looks out to see the stars, just stops in his tracks and looks at them for five minutes. He must be waiting for them. I think he'll sabotage the life support system, drones can survive in the vacuum of space, you know."
"No I don't think so. He is going to have all the phasers malfunction, so we can't fight back, then he is going to sabotage life support." Another Ensign came over to give his opinion,
"That thing is mean't to look like us, but just remember he is one of them." Before walking away.
His dark brown eyes darted to the two officers, rolling his shoulders back and his back straight as a ruler. He causality went over to the officers, an Ensign and a Lieutenant Junior Grade, they turned with naiveté expression like two gossiping girls in the middle of math class. A stark contrast to Wesley's dark, piercing eyes, shrouded by distrust with age old secrets learnt from the Collective's battles; he was a seasoned warrior. They shock themselves to look away from his snake-like gaze, they quivered in their boots.
"Do not engage in further irrelevant discourse. You should be working, it is inefficient for you to be engaging in this discourse." Sounding like Borg drone.
"You don't have the authority, drone." Cried the Lieutenant, giving Wesley a forceful push, but over compensated and making his head hit the wall. He gritted his teeth, he didn't want to be treated this way, it was if he first came aboard the Enterprise, "Do you honestly believe that you will ever be part of this crew? You don't care jack about anyone abroad! You just shut the world out like when your an Ensign, not caring about anyone's safety or the consequences of your actions. You don't deserve to be an Ensign, you never even went to the Academy. Your just a coward. I didn't see you morn for the dead, instead you took pleasure in it. What are you so afraid to admit?" Each word was armor piercing. Wesley's eyes went wide.
Crusher shot back with an inexorable stare, glacial, he wasn't going to take this, "I had no control over my own body. I couldn't stop my actions, even if I wanted to." But this was a lie. He hurt people, a lot of people and he didn't want to hurt people anymore, but he harmed them. Assimilated, took their lives away and made them into drones.
"Have you ever tried not being a drone?" Said the Ensign. This made his muscles tense and his eyes narrowed cranking the intensity of his stare. He didn't ask the Borg to take him. It wasn't his choice, being a drone isn't like changing a pair of clothes or an uniform, it was something that was going to be a part of him forever. He couldn't change who he was, no matter how hard he tried. This was becoming tiring it was getting very hard to like being an Ensign, if nobody liked him for doing it. They wished him to be more human, but in actual reality they still saw him as a drone and he liked the pricks of being a drone: the strength, the intelligence, the coordination and agility. If they took his Borg half, he would be incomplete, he liked that side of him. He was still considered a monster,"You're just a mistake and you don't deserve to be in that uniform."
He had enough of this, "I'm not the issue you are. Please treat me with a little courtesy."
"Why should I? Did you how many got assimilated just to get you back?! I know how much their golden boy means to them, but it doesn't you mean that to the rest of us."
"Now get back to work, you've wasted enough time already. You and inefficient human." Slamming him against the wall. While he was talking LaForge walked out of the turbolift and over heard the discussion. Pulling Wesley aside,
"What do you think your doing?" LaForge demanded.
"They were talking about irrelevancies, that were about me. I stopped them."
"You will not act this way, Ensign Crusher, not with that kind of attitude. I'll have you cleaning out the plasma conduits. Do you understand me, Mr. Crusher?"
"Aye, sir." With disdain filling his voice, he went back to his work area. Thinking back to when he was still a drone…
Nix of Borg. Your regeneration cycle is complete. Boomed the Collective. Commanded the trillion of voices of the Collective, making an unified decision to awaken him from his regeneration. Nix's dark soulless brown eyes opened and then stepped down from his alcove. He looked around with his enhance vision. Nix's pupils dilated to adjust the lightning of the Cube. This wasn't C935-23489, which he was reborn on.
The drone step off his alcove, registering the wavelengths of this new area. Something felt like a loud heart beat, there was Collective whispering into his ear guiding and telling him what to do, but deep within his cybernetic soul he felt as if he was at the heart of the Collective. The beginning, the end, where all order was sent out to his brothers and sisters light years away.
The chamber was grand, dark but lilted with spotlights at critical adjuncts. Stepping on to a triangular platform that had star-patterns on the floor, which pointed the three directions that the doors were located. Nix felt drawn to an opening in the middle, looking above…it was an alcove.
The Collective's whispers stopped as he felt his organs twitch and something pulling him closer to her. It was as if he was in trance or wasn't control of his body, his mind told him that he was swaying, but truly he wasn't. There was a song…a beautiful song, so harmonic, and in medley that it was intoxicating. His senses felt overwhelmed by it. The song was everywhere and he had no idea where it was coming from.
She came down from above and he saw her in all disembody perfection. He took a step back to not get in her way as she comprised her sculpted black metal body suit. She assumed her body and wore it with grace; she rolled her shoulders back connecting with her empty body. He understood a new sense of beauty.
Answering his question, "You are at Unimatrix One. Welcome home, Nix." Cupping his cheek and circling her thumb affectionally. She strolled away. The Queen didn't need to speak or gesture an order to get him to come. She only used a mere thought to draw him to her side. Nix felt his body being pulled by inviable ropes to follow her.
Coming up beside her, his mind still foggy, they came up to a metal with frosted glass and curved metal covering it. His eye's picked up the higher frequency blues that shined though the door. With a will of a thought the door unsealed. Nix didn't challenge her authority and let her will him in.
Once stepping in, the room activated and blue gridded lines came off the walls and filled the room in 3-D star chart of the Milky Way Galaxy. The Queen circled around taking her time, filled with pride. Coming to his side and putting a hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer, "This is yours, Nix. You can do anything here: weapons development, species analysis, counter-strategies. This room is solely yours. You can come here any time you want, no one will disrupt you." The chart slowly zoomed to a single grid then to an octant, that was filled with starships, "Species 4775 have assembled a fleet of a thousand at Octant-34. Find their weakness and make counter-strategies to prepare us for their tactics." With that she strolled out leaving Nix alone, who quickly pulled up all information for Species 4775.
Over looking Engineering, Ensign Crusher's eyes drifted down toward the main Engineering team, a selective few that were on team, were hand picked by LaForge himself, the best of the Engineering department, he wasn't one of them. However, two years ago, he would have filled one of those spots. Things changed, he changed, nothing stays the same, the old saying goes, this change wasn't something he wanted.
His Borg counterpart wasn't him…it wasn't his fault. It was the Enterprise's crews fault for abandoning him and the stresses that Borg Collective that pushed him in a rash decision. He did nothing wrong. It was the Collective, not him, not him, Nix was a projection of the Collective like Locutus. He was trapped in his body, helpless, for the things he did as Nix. All individuality erased. Just a drone. The universe was cruel him and it wasn't his fault, his actions had no control over his density.
Wesley focused his attention on finding the faultily isolinear chips, burning the tips of his fingers. He stuck doing manual work. He broke several chips and he cursed himself for his clumsiness. There were no windows in Engineering, how he wished to look out to the stars and be free. Not be plagued with this curse. That made him so different, he just wanted it gone. His body was ill suited to control the strength of his Borg implants. Maybe the best thing for him was to be alone, that was the only he could be free, just until the Collective got to him.
Should he forgive everyone of his so called 'friends?' They would only make this worse. He hurt them as Nix, no the Collective hurt them, not him. But, just looking into their eyes, they feared him. Like he was still that drone, Nix, he wasn't that drone, but a part of him was that merciless, calculating, heartless, drone that took pleasure in the assimilation of lesser species. He hated the fact he let––no–– the Collective forced him, andbrought those undesirable traits out of him, especially her. Sure! He killed drones, deactivated them really, without a second thought of the life he was taking from this world, but they would be forever in the collective. His friends did "rescued" him, as they thought it was the right thing to do. He couldn't blame them for that: nobody gets left behind when you're on a starship. It was one of the rules of command. Sure, they had their faults, but they were human and he couldn't ask for perfection, though he was above them. He was Borg after all. When he was a boy on the Enterprise, they gave him a chance to prove himself that he could be an officer for the Enterprise. He owed them the same. Climbing down the latter and headed to Stellar cartography.
Barclay came over to where LaForge was standing, he gave an Ensign handed back a report, before turning back to Barclay, "Is there something you need Reg?" Open and honest to what his subordinate had to say.
Barclay licked his lips, "Sir, why isn't Ensign Crusher working on the warp engines with us?" Trying to be assertive with his point, as he changed his posture. This made LaForge squirm a bit when he was asked.
"There would be a conflict of interests." Touching his lips, before turning away, "I'm being honest with you." But, Barclay didn't believe him and took offense that his own senior officer would lie to him.
"He knows Borg technology inside and out, and you," Pointing at LaForge, "always had Wes in all your meetings," He watched as Geordi's expression slowly harden and his brow furrowed. He grabbed Reg's arm and pulled him aside,
"If I had Wes on the team, we would have a clash of personalities." In a hush whisper, "I didn't want him to get bullied, Reg, you of all people should know that." Trying not to look flustered.
"Your the senior officer, set an example." Crossing his arm, still not looking convinced, "Sir, what if your attempt to help is hurting him even more? What are you so afraid of?"
Down in stellar cartography, Wesley typed in the coordinates of the dozen just in this sector. This was going to take months to chart all Borg territory, it was just too big. The Captain wanted to chart out everything, but somewhere around the line, he was going to ask him to find the quickest route out of the Borg territory. Giving a sigh, he worked as efficiently as humanly possible, but feeling ever so weaker and alone. Why couldn't he return to the Collective?
He couldn't be part of this crew, if he he didn't have faith in them. He hurt people, he hurt the Enterprise and he thought it was fun like playing a big game of chess with people as the pieces. Just one more step toward perfection. Peering down, at both hands, one of Borg, one of human, it was like there were two of him, two separate beings.
He shook his head. His mother, the person who gave birth to him. He couldn't bring himself to hate her like Riker or Troi. He loved her, and she loved him no matter what the circumstances, but he doubt that she loved him after he yelled at her. He just didn't like being touched. But the touch was suppose to show affection, comfort, a mother's touch just trying to calm down a frighten child. He didn't mean to yell at his mother, but it reminded him…of her. He belonged to her, nobody else. A loud TAP! Why was he crying?
He placed another set of coordinates and a pang of remembrance as this planetary cluster reminded him of Species 3421 and their valiant attempt to save their species from assimilation. Their ships were three times the size of Federation starships and over two hundred and ninety five ships engaged and destroyed by one Borg cube. The worst part was he planed every counter measure…
Looking at the debris that floated of the destroyed starships on the viewscreen. The last of their powerful fleet would soon be collected and incorporated into future Borg Cubes; the last great memorial to their fruitful civilization. Nix made his way down the corridors; a simple walk for a drone, but for an individual it would be confusing and seem like labyrinth. Drones filed by him, knowing where they were suppose to go, with the guidance of the Collective. He didn't need to ask for them to get out of the way; everyone had order in their lives.
Nix looked out to the ravine, the heart of the Cube. New voices flooded into the Collective; the assimilation of Species 3421. The pull of the Borg Collective's will on him, but he let he them guide his footsteps where they needed him, then he realized it was her calling. His scrolled over the memories of individuals memories, as blood curdling screams filled the corridors, from the lower levels of the cube. Below, individuals waited to be assimilated in long lines, as some where being escorted by drones to assimilation chambers on the lower levels. He quicken his pace. It only took 1.1 minutes to reach the Queen's chamber.
Spotlights hit him when he entered. With the grace of ballerina she glided toward him with an wicked smile on her face. He titled his head in confusion. What was so amusing? Kissing his forehead, "Nix…"Cooing, then she closed her eyes made everything still in his mind.
With a thought, she pulled up an image on her large viewscreen. Turning, "Child…what do you see?" She let her moist hand travel down the side of his face. His head titled. The screen was filled with stars.It was the outside,
"I don't understand…" Unsure of what she was asking of him. Her expression turned cold and unsympathetic. It was like she could peer into his soul and for the first time he was afraid of her. He took a step back, his head sinking down and turned to face her, who was hovering over him, but not looking at him. The Queen's voice was dark, threatening, that shook him to his core, but it was soft like a mother who was punishing a child.
The drone wanted to talk back to her, to speak up and say he wasn't weak and show he wasn't afraid. He was so sick and tried of being afraid. But he decided against it, he didn't have anywhere to go. His eyes reflected back obsidian, and no brown could be seen in eyes or no spark of youth, they were harden by betrayal.
The Queen had her methods to get what she wanted from people and he was no different, she wouldn't lose her investment because fear, that would lead to Locutus downfall, then the fall of the Federation.
"You will understand in time." He started to turn and walk to the nearest console as a hand on his shoulder stopping him.A long, slender, black metal finger moving to his chin, where it rested, forcing him to look into the nothing that were eyes; that were a fascination to him.There was everything, she saw every discovery, every drone under her wing and devour every mind that entered in the Collective and nothing, as this temporary body couldn't hold the perfection that she was the heart of the Collective.
He didn't say anything else and didn't move until she backed away. A smile crept on her lips, a dangerous smile that showed her pearly white teeth. Sticky, viscous, that coated her cold, wet hands substance smeared on to his cheek, "Go to the primary Assimilation Chamber." He pulled away from her dead, icy, hand. Her touch left a colder spot on his already dead skin. His chest tighten and his eye's widen, he didn't want to do this and he suddenly felt sick and his whole body trembled. Not assimilation. She turned away from him, "You have objections?" Nix remained still. But he couldn't object to her. "We'll guide you… Becoming a whisper, Then she turned back and walked away into darkness, knowing full-well that Nix couldn't say no, she wouldn't allow it, "…take pleasure in it…"
"Start the sequence!" Geordi ordered.
Another Ensign came by and passed along a PADD and reported, "Sir, shields are at 100%." He gave a node and she walked off to due another one of her duties. Geordi stood a couple of feet away from the master control board.
"Anti-matter and matter streams coming online." The warp core flashed from a lifeless gray to a bright neon blue as anti-matter pumped into the dilithium crystal chamber reactor from deck 42 from its chamber. Both the anti-matter and matter antiproton injection subsystem was refitted to increase efficiency to ninety percent, from eighty-two percent. But to make use of this newly developed pumping system, decks 42 to 23 had to be reinforced to compensate the extra force. This only made up nineteen percent of the total system pressure, the rest went into pumping the high energy from the anti-matter and matter reaction, into nacelles or the EPS conducts.
Wesley strolled into the frenzy of yellow uniforms. "Warp capacity at 40 %…50%…55%…70%." Said the lieutenant, "Warp core is back online at 100%, sir." The Enterprise gently hummed, where there was emergency lights on, the hallway quickly brightened. The Enterprise's nacelles turned from gray to blue.
As if to make up for leaving him out,"Wes, accompany me to the Bridge." Wesley just nodded as he followed his commanding officer to the Bridge. Getting a couple of stares. The former drone ignored them, he was just getting used it. The turbolift hummed and in a few seconds they were on the Bridge as the doors swooshed open.
Wesley made a quick analysis of the Bridge, there was the Captain Picard, and Lt. Worf at tactical with Lt. Commander Data sitting at OPS this must be Alpha shift and the navigation chair was empty. A subtle smile crept onto his face and his heart fluttered. Was there an ulterior motive for accompanying Chief Engineer Geordi LaForge? He just wanted everything to return to normal. LaForge went down the slope to the Captain, who stood up when seeing his Engineer. Crusher just stood there, taking everything in, it was like he was first came aboard and the world was new. He even ignored the conversation between Picard and Geordi.
"How long can you keep us at warp 9?"
"Twelve hours sir, but you have allow for cool down time or we risk the warp core overheating."
"Can you push it for another two hours?"
"I can see what I can do, sir. But that means we'll have to diverge power from other decks."
"Which decks?" Geordi took a look at the power distribution with his PADD.
Coming down, Wes went to Navigations, moving past the Captain and the Engineer, but before he could sit down, a Lieutenant sat down before him. Who was this guy? And didn't he know that he was the Alpha shift Navigator of the Enterprise-D?
His words becoming like knifes. He had been pasted up for someone…that was…not him! "That is my designation. Get out of it." This had to be a mistake, it just had to be or the Senior officers were just playing him for laughs that they could talk about over poker. He had worked hard to demonstrate that he had earned the right to sit in that chair. But he was pasted up! The lieutenant turned, with tears lining the corners of his eyes.
Picard waved LaForge off and saw the situation and decided to end it. As it looked like Wes was going to toss the poor lieutenant half way across the bridge. Coming up toward the young man he placed a hand on his shoulder, getting his attention,
"Mr. Crusher how about you go to Ten Forward and relax?"
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