Chapter 1
Captain Janeway looked at her PADD.
"Are you saying this appeared out of nowhere?"
"I'm stating the fact that it seemed to rip a hole in space ahead of us, then opened up," said Seven of Nine crisply.
"How long has it been there?"
"Approximately eight hours."
Captain Janeway smiled. Seven was annoyingly efficient as ever, but she was still Seven. She still remembered Seven's performance near the Raven.
In her ready room, Seven looked out of place. Her room was calm and peaceful, fitting her personality, whereas Seven was as calm and peaceful as a Mugato. Janeway smiled again at the thought.
Seven's body-forming suit, which she said was more practical and efficient, explained her personality to a pinch. She was a perfectionist. Her face was stretched tight with annoyance, which was usually her reaction to something she didn't understand. And she sure as hell didn't understand this, Janeway was sure of it, as even she didn't understand it.
Captain Janeway straightened in her chair and sighed. Her standard Federation suit was now as comfortable to her as her crew was lately, which wasn't a lot. Everyone seemed to be on edge.
The smile left Janeway's face faster than a Klingon could drink blood wine. "Is something wrong, Seven?" Janeway had noticed that she was, well, vaguer than usual.
Before Seven could answer, her commbadge beeped. "Chakotay to the Captain."
Janeway pressed it. "Janeway here."
"There's a ship in the wormhole. It's unknown, but it seems to be off-line
and damaged."
"Move closer and activate a tractor beam to bring it in. Janeway out." She turned to Seven.
"I'm sorry, Seven, this will have to wait."
Seven nodded, but she looked relieved. She followed Janeway onto the bridge, as Chakotay calmly said, "Red alert. Shields up and activate weapons."
"Problem, Chakotay?" Janeway asked.
"Yes, Captain. Our friend just woke up." The ship rocked as, on-screen, the ship darted in, firing phasers as it went. The ship itself was beautiful, as beautiful as a bird in flight. It looked like it belonged in space and the pilot sure seemed used to it. It rolled, and let lose a torpedo.
"Whoever it is, it knows better flying than I do, and it's quicker than us," Tom Paris muttered at the helm. Janeway was shocked at this confession. He was their best pilot, and Starfleet would have benefited from his flying techniques, and he had gotten out of more situations than she could remember. The Neutron Star Binary situation came to mind.
His handsome, tanned face was creased in annoyance as he tried his best to avoid the ship being hit. It wasn't working, as two more torpedoes hit the ships shields.
"Seven, do you recognise the ship design?" She looked at Seven, whose composure was calm, her pale face as cool as Neelix's peppers were hot, and her composure was slack and relaxed. She kept her balance perfectly, even though the ship was bucking like a horse. Poor Ensign Kim was fighting just to stay in his place.
"That ship is unknown to the Borg, Captain. Though I'm sure I've seen it before..."
The ship rocked again, interrupting her and the ship onscreen twisted, and turned toward the vortex.
"Shields are down, Captain," Tuvok stated this without any emotion whatsoever. Captain Janeway looked at him in surprise, shocked at how much power was in the torpedoes. She glanced at Chakotay.
"Those are powerful weapons," she said.
"His shields are down. One more hit from him and our hull will breach, but his situation is the same." he said
"He's coming for another pass!" shouted Kim.
"We have no choice. Return fire, Tuvok," Janeway said. She didn't need
to turn around to know Tuvok had carried out his command.
On-screen, red lines of phaser fire lashed out at the alien ship. The ship shuddered, then flew straight into the vortex.
"Tuvok, get a tractor...." She didn't have time to finish her sentence.
The ship exploded.
The vortex seemed to scream at the space around it, seething at the event horizon, and it started to become unstable. Before she could blink, it disappeared out of existence, taking the debris with it.
The Captain tried her best to look calm, but failed miserably. Chakotay had the same problem.
"Scratch one more person," Tom muttered.
Janeway glanced fiercely at him, and he glared back. It seemed the only person not upset by the death was Harry. Any death was a disaster by her reckoning. Especially if it was an unknown species, as it usually opened new horizons for treaties and passage through areas of space. She wasn't happy that this specimen had been hostile. Ensign Kim was looking at his controls, obviously completely baffled by the readings.
"Captain, that was no ordinary wormhole."
"How so, Mr. Kim?" Janeway pivoted her chest to look at him.
"Well, the neutrino particles are very strange. I collected readings before it collapsed. The idea is probably based on creating a wormhole and seperating space, time and...."
"Ensign, get to the point."
He looked at his controls one more time for luck, then said,
"It seems it was a time tunnel."
Seven's face seemed to transform into a wild Targ's when she heard this, then asked to return to duty. The Captain knew Seven didn't work well when she was distracted by her memory, and since it was obvious by her face, which was twisted in trying to remember something, she sent her to sickbay instead.
As Seven walked along the corridors, she wracked her brain to remember the feeling she got when she saw the ship. She remembered the Borg, and their ideas for future ships, the idea was there. That was it! The Borg had been working at... the sickbay doors opened for her, and she stepped inside. It was dark.
Wait a minute. Sickbay was never dark. She looked around, startled out of her daydream.
She was in Cargo Bay 4. What was she doing here? She backed out, confused, the doors still open. She walked off with a sense of uneasiness, as if something was behind her. But that was preposterous.
Behind her, the Borg stepped from behind the storage container he had been hiding behind.
She was the one. The other Borg he had registered. It was obvious, since she wore an obviously efficient suit. As he watched her hips move quickly and her body disappear round the corner, he stepped into the corridor, his standard containment suit flapping. He frowned down at it. He couldn't remember the date, but it wasn't in the 31^st century, and neither was any suit meant to have so many slashes or holes in any garment as his had, unless in a war, which he had been in.
A crewman walked past, and, seeing his suit ripped, she kindly told him to get in regulation uniform or be reprimanded by a senior officer.
He stared at her suit closely, and when she stopped looking at him strangely, she turned the corner. His mission was stealth, so he would be stealthy, fitting in. His suit rippled as his in-built replicator activated. It darkened at the chest and legs, and the gloves disappeared. His shoes became freshly polished, and around the collar became a deep mauve. Finally, a mock up of a Comm-badge appeared on his breast
He looked down at himself. He looked perfect, and fitted the `regulations'. He walked on, passing several officers. They all looked at him strangely, as the woman had, but no one said anything.
He looked at the deck, and saw the Borgs heat trail through the air. He followed it, but he bumped into someone on his way. They fell heavily on their arm, obviously breaking it. He walked past, ignoring their shouting and screams. Unimportant. He felt someone grab his arm.
"Hey! You could at least apologize!"
He flung his arm backwards, hitting the officer in the chest. The man flew backwards.
"HELP!" He yelped, before he hit the wall and crumpled to the floor beside the man, still contorting on the floor.
Two men in black and yellow uniforms ran round the corner, attracted by the shouting. Each one grabbed one of his arms as another guard appeared and inspected the human. Conscious. Slight concussion.
"It's the brig for you, mate," Said the first guard.
"Don't resist, now." Said the second.
Unimportant. Both of them. They were slowing him down. He punched his fist into the first guard, doubling him over, then delivered a devastating knee kick to the head of the other. He grabbed the first guard by the collar, then slammed him into the wall. They both slid to the floor, groaning. The guard who had been inspecting the human stood up and, seeing his crewmates unconscious, aimed his phaser and fired. It just missed the Borg. He aimed his arm, and unleashed a bolt of energy. It hit the security guard on the head, covering him in crackling electricity. He collapsed against the bulkhead.
He turned and briskly ran through the corridor, having no time for assimilations. He needed other Borg for that, to carry on if he was damaged.
He ran on, ignoring the shouts from people.
A door opened. He ran in, and saw people sat down at tables, gaping at him, food halfway to their mouths. A humanoid species with whiskers stood before him, gaping, in a human chef hat. Talaxian. Species 105... How long ago was that dialogue used? No time to think.
"Who are you?" asked the Talaxian.
He ignored the question, and headed for the other door.
The door opened. Ten security guards stepped in, each carrying phaser rifles.
"Duck!" One shouted.
Everyone ducked. No one ignored that kind of command.
They all opened fire at him; the phaser fire hit the Borg at angles, pushing his arms and legs backwards, and knocking him over the tables, making him hit the wall.
He adjusted his shielding, and wondered how they had got there so fast. There were probably many of the officers aboard this strange ship.
He stood up, aimed and fired. Once, twice, three times, all in the space of three seconds. Two beams hit two officers, and the third hit two officers who were all bunched up on their knees. They all toppled.
He jumped forward over the tables and knocked down three more officers. He punched all three on the chin, knocking them out. He knew he was faster than they were, and all they saw was a blur.
He jumped off them and ran, activating his in-built sensors, with phaser beams firing behind him. He walked round a corner, following his prey. Thankfully, it stood still in an area. He would be there soon.
Seven was sitting on the bio-bed, waiting to be scanned, when she felt it. It was a touching of minds. There was another Borg on the ship.
She cried out, and the Doctor ran up. He asked a typically human question.
"Are you all right, Seven?
Typical.
"Of course not," She said through clenched teeth. She thought her head was expanding. The Doctor picked up a tricorder and ran it over her. He frowned.
"Elevated hippocampus. Hmmm...."
He stepped over to the diagnostic desk. The door opened.
He looked up.
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait."
Seven looked, even though moving her head was painful. There was a man at the door, blocking it.
She gasped.
"Seven?" The Doctor turned to her.
As the Doctor was distracted, the man slammed his fist into the wall. Two tubes stuck into it. Nanoprobe tubes. Electricity flowed into the wall.
The doctor opened his mouth, flickered, and then deactivated before he could say anything. The man grinned.
"It's just you and me, now," he smiled, advancing toward her.
Before he reached her, a hole formed in his head as a phaser blast struck him. He turned, surprisingly still active, but was shot again before he could do anything. He fell to the ground, twitching.
Tuvok stepped over the body, calm as ever, being a Vulcan of course. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
She recomposed herself. Before she could say anything though, Janeway walked through the door.
"Are you alright, Seven?"
She evaluated herself.
"I am fine, but I do not believe that the Doctor is."
"I'll get Kim on it right away. But before that, I had better get Tom to get a look at our friend here."
Janeway was incorrect. Surely this creature, whatever she suspected him to be, was hardly a friend.
All three looked at the body, but only Seven did not react with surprise. The hole in his head, which should have been devastating, was already sealed.
Captain Janeway looked at her PADD.
"Are you saying this appeared out of nowhere?"
"I'm stating the fact that it seemed to rip a hole in space ahead of us, then opened up," said Seven of Nine crisply.
"How long has it been there?"
"Approximately eight hours."
Captain Janeway smiled. Seven was annoyingly efficient as ever, but she was still Seven. She still remembered Seven's performance near the Raven.
In her ready room, Seven looked out of place. Her room was calm and peaceful, fitting her personality, whereas Seven was as calm and peaceful as a Mugato. Janeway smiled again at the thought.
Seven's body-forming suit, which she said was more practical and efficient, explained her personality to a pinch. She was a perfectionist. Her face was stretched tight with annoyance, which was usually her reaction to something she didn't understand. And she sure as hell didn't understand this, Janeway was sure of it, as even she didn't understand it.
Captain Janeway straightened in her chair and sighed. Her standard Federation suit was now as comfortable to her as her crew was lately, which wasn't a lot. Everyone seemed to be on edge.
The smile left Janeway's face faster than a Klingon could drink blood wine. "Is something wrong, Seven?" Janeway had noticed that she was, well, vaguer than usual.
Before Seven could answer, her commbadge beeped. "Chakotay to the Captain."
Janeway pressed it. "Janeway here."
"There's a ship in the wormhole. It's unknown, but it seems to be off-line
and damaged."
"Move closer and activate a tractor beam to bring it in. Janeway out." She turned to Seven.
"I'm sorry, Seven, this will have to wait."
Seven nodded, but she looked relieved. She followed Janeway onto the bridge, as Chakotay calmly said, "Red alert. Shields up and activate weapons."
"Problem, Chakotay?" Janeway asked.
"Yes, Captain. Our friend just woke up." The ship rocked as, on-screen, the ship darted in, firing phasers as it went. The ship itself was beautiful, as beautiful as a bird in flight. It looked like it belonged in space and the pilot sure seemed used to it. It rolled, and let lose a torpedo.
"Whoever it is, it knows better flying than I do, and it's quicker than us," Tom Paris muttered at the helm. Janeway was shocked at this confession. He was their best pilot, and Starfleet would have benefited from his flying techniques, and he had gotten out of more situations than she could remember. The Neutron Star Binary situation came to mind.
His handsome, tanned face was creased in annoyance as he tried his best to avoid the ship being hit. It wasn't working, as two more torpedoes hit the ships shields.
"Seven, do you recognise the ship design?" She looked at Seven, whose composure was calm, her pale face as cool as Neelix's peppers were hot, and her composure was slack and relaxed. She kept her balance perfectly, even though the ship was bucking like a horse. Poor Ensign Kim was fighting just to stay in his place.
"That ship is unknown to the Borg, Captain. Though I'm sure I've seen it before..."
The ship rocked again, interrupting her and the ship onscreen twisted, and turned toward the vortex.
"Shields are down, Captain," Tuvok stated this without any emotion whatsoever. Captain Janeway looked at him in surprise, shocked at how much power was in the torpedoes. She glanced at Chakotay.
"Those are powerful weapons," she said.
"His shields are down. One more hit from him and our hull will breach, but his situation is the same." he said
"He's coming for another pass!" shouted Kim.
"We have no choice. Return fire, Tuvok," Janeway said. She didn't need
to turn around to know Tuvok had carried out his command.
On-screen, red lines of phaser fire lashed out at the alien ship. The ship shuddered, then flew straight into the vortex.
"Tuvok, get a tractor...." She didn't have time to finish her sentence.
The ship exploded.
The vortex seemed to scream at the space around it, seething at the event horizon, and it started to become unstable. Before she could blink, it disappeared out of existence, taking the debris with it.
The Captain tried her best to look calm, but failed miserably. Chakotay had the same problem.
"Scratch one more person," Tom muttered.
Janeway glanced fiercely at him, and he glared back. It seemed the only person not upset by the death was Harry. Any death was a disaster by her reckoning. Especially if it was an unknown species, as it usually opened new horizons for treaties and passage through areas of space. She wasn't happy that this specimen had been hostile. Ensign Kim was looking at his controls, obviously completely baffled by the readings.
"Captain, that was no ordinary wormhole."
"How so, Mr. Kim?" Janeway pivoted her chest to look at him.
"Well, the neutrino particles are very strange. I collected readings before it collapsed. The idea is probably based on creating a wormhole and seperating space, time and...."
"Ensign, get to the point."
He looked at his controls one more time for luck, then said,
"It seems it was a time tunnel."
Seven's face seemed to transform into a wild Targ's when she heard this, then asked to return to duty. The Captain knew Seven didn't work well when she was distracted by her memory, and since it was obvious by her face, which was twisted in trying to remember something, she sent her to sickbay instead.
As Seven walked along the corridors, she wracked her brain to remember the feeling she got when she saw the ship. She remembered the Borg, and their ideas for future ships, the idea was there. That was it! The Borg had been working at... the sickbay doors opened for her, and she stepped inside. It was dark.
Wait a minute. Sickbay was never dark. She looked around, startled out of her daydream.
She was in Cargo Bay 4. What was she doing here? She backed out, confused, the doors still open. She walked off with a sense of uneasiness, as if something was behind her. But that was preposterous.
Behind her, the Borg stepped from behind the storage container he had been hiding behind.
She was the one. The other Borg he had registered. It was obvious, since she wore an obviously efficient suit. As he watched her hips move quickly and her body disappear round the corner, he stepped into the corridor, his standard containment suit flapping. He frowned down at it. He couldn't remember the date, but it wasn't in the 31^st century, and neither was any suit meant to have so many slashes or holes in any garment as his had, unless in a war, which he had been in.
A crewman walked past, and, seeing his suit ripped, she kindly told him to get in regulation uniform or be reprimanded by a senior officer.
He stared at her suit closely, and when she stopped looking at him strangely, she turned the corner. His mission was stealth, so he would be stealthy, fitting in. His suit rippled as his in-built replicator activated. It darkened at the chest and legs, and the gloves disappeared. His shoes became freshly polished, and around the collar became a deep mauve. Finally, a mock up of a Comm-badge appeared on his breast
He looked down at himself. He looked perfect, and fitted the `regulations'. He walked on, passing several officers. They all looked at him strangely, as the woman had, but no one said anything.
He looked at the deck, and saw the Borgs heat trail through the air. He followed it, but he bumped into someone on his way. They fell heavily on their arm, obviously breaking it. He walked past, ignoring their shouting and screams. Unimportant. He felt someone grab his arm.
"Hey! You could at least apologize!"
He flung his arm backwards, hitting the officer in the chest. The man flew backwards.
"HELP!" He yelped, before he hit the wall and crumpled to the floor beside the man, still contorting on the floor.
Two men in black and yellow uniforms ran round the corner, attracted by the shouting. Each one grabbed one of his arms as another guard appeared and inspected the human. Conscious. Slight concussion.
"It's the brig for you, mate," Said the first guard.
"Don't resist, now." Said the second.
Unimportant. Both of them. They were slowing him down. He punched his fist into the first guard, doubling him over, then delivered a devastating knee kick to the head of the other. He grabbed the first guard by the collar, then slammed him into the wall. They both slid to the floor, groaning. The guard who had been inspecting the human stood up and, seeing his crewmates unconscious, aimed his phaser and fired. It just missed the Borg. He aimed his arm, and unleashed a bolt of energy. It hit the security guard on the head, covering him in crackling electricity. He collapsed against the bulkhead.
He turned and briskly ran through the corridor, having no time for assimilations. He needed other Borg for that, to carry on if he was damaged.
He ran on, ignoring the shouts from people.
A door opened. He ran in, and saw people sat down at tables, gaping at him, food halfway to their mouths. A humanoid species with whiskers stood before him, gaping, in a human chef hat. Talaxian. Species 105... How long ago was that dialogue used? No time to think.
"Who are you?" asked the Talaxian.
He ignored the question, and headed for the other door.
The door opened. Ten security guards stepped in, each carrying phaser rifles.
"Duck!" One shouted.
Everyone ducked. No one ignored that kind of command.
They all opened fire at him; the phaser fire hit the Borg at angles, pushing his arms and legs backwards, and knocking him over the tables, making him hit the wall.
He adjusted his shielding, and wondered how they had got there so fast. There were probably many of the officers aboard this strange ship.
He stood up, aimed and fired. Once, twice, three times, all in the space of three seconds. Two beams hit two officers, and the third hit two officers who were all bunched up on their knees. They all toppled.
He jumped forward over the tables and knocked down three more officers. He punched all three on the chin, knocking them out. He knew he was faster than they were, and all they saw was a blur.
He jumped off them and ran, activating his in-built sensors, with phaser beams firing behind him. He walked round a corner, following his prey. Thankfully, it stood still in an area. He would be there soon.
Seven was sitting on the bio-bed, waiting to be scanned, when she felt it. It was a touching of minds. There was another Borg on the ship.
She cried out, and the Doctor ran up. He asked a typically human question.
"Are you all right, Seven?
Typical.
"Of course not," She said through clenched teeth. She thought her head was expanding. The Doctor picked up a tricorder and ran it over her. He frowned.
"Elevated hippocampus. Hmmm...."
He stepped over to the diagnostic desk. The door opened.
He looked up.
"I'm sorry, you'll have to wait."
Seven looked, even though moving her head was painful. There was a man at the door, blocking it.
She gasped.
"Seven?" The Doctor turned to her.
As the Doctor was distracted, the man slammed his fist into the wall. Two tubes stuck into it. Nanoprobe tubes. Electricity flowed into the wall.
The doctor opened his mouth, flickered, and then deactivated before he could say anything. The man grinned.
"It's just you and me, now," he smiled, advancing toward her.
Before he reached her, a hole formed in his head as a phaser blast struck him. He turned, surprisingly still active, but was shot again before he could do anything. He fell to the ground, twitching.
Tuvok stepped over the body, calm as ever, being a Vulcan of course. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
She recomposed herself. Before she could say anything though, Janeway walked through the door.
"Are you alright, Seven?"
She evaluated herself.
"I am fine, but I do not believe that the Doctor is."
"I'll get Kim on it right away. But before that, I had better get Tom to get a look at our friend here."
Janeway was incorrect. Surely this creature, whatever she suspected him to be, was hardly a friend.
All three looked at the body, but only Seven did not react with surprise. The hole in his head, which should have been devastating, was already sealed.