Star Trek: The Next Generation: Hugh and Me Against the World
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The alien ship was doing at least warp factor 9.5 as it zipped through subspace. Had anyone been able to observe it at translight velocity (a physical impossibility), the reason for its haste would have been seemingly obvious: the Borg cube ship behind was coming up on it at warp 9.7. It would be natural for said observers to infer that the foreign vessel was fleeing; such an inference would, however, be wrong. The alien ship was not fleeing; it simply had a schedule to keep.
On the interior flying bridge of the cube ship, Admiral Jean-Luc Picard and Captain Will Riker stood, alongside the Borg known to them as "Hugh." Some years back, Picard, then captain of the United Federation Starship Enterprise, had rescued the young Borg from the wreckage of a Borg Transport, and had, quite unintentionally (well, to a degree) introduced him to the concept, not only of individuality, but of actual friendship, which was a foreign concept to the half-machine, enhanced beings. Hugh had carried that notion back to the Borg Collective, and it had proved to be more dangerous to the Collective than any weapon ever produced. It fractured the huge empire, and many of the defecting Borg were brought into a kind of uneasy alliance with the Federation. Since the Federation's only contact with any Borg, previously, had been as that of one of the most fearsome enemies they'd ever faced, there was a huge degree of distrust, suspicion, and fear between the two races.
But much had been made of diplomatic relationships with the Cooperative, as the new political entity was called. A case in point… "Hugh," began Picard, "I'd like to thank you again for your assistance in this matter." A call had come in as the Cooperative ship was bringing the Enterprise back to Federation-controlled space, from the shipyard on the edge of Cooperative space, where the Federation starship was being outfitted with a new weapon system. Recently, there had been reports of attacks on Federation colonies by a ruthless enemy from the past, Species 8472, and the Cooperative had offered their assistance. But even as they were bringing in the Enterprise, still nestled securely within the Borg cube ship, back to the Alpha Quadrant to begin primary testing of the countermeasure, an emergency distress call emanated from a newly-established colony on the fringes of the Federation, reporting being under attack by an unknown intruder.
"You are quite welcome, Admiral," said Hugh, in his buzzing voice, his gaze fixed on the holographic image of the ship ahead of them. "We are happy to help. And…" here he paused, momentarily lost in thought-or perhaps lost in sifting through the data files of the massive cube ship around them. Or, perhaps, both. "I only hope we are in time. If this vessel is truly one of Species 1199's, you...may need some help. They are...formidable foes."
Riker turned around, crossed his arms, and scowled into nothing. Like most humans, he still had a deep-seated distrust of anything to do with the Borg, whether Collective or Cooperative. Not, it had to be said, without some reason. In his mind, no Borg could ever be fully trusted. "Well, we certainly appreciate your offering us a lift…" Unspoken went the words, but I'm sure we can handle this ourselves. Picard glanced at him, a slight frown on his face.
And his unspoken words went to Riker, Number One, if the Borg believe this foe to be worthy of their intervention, they may know what they are talking about. After their years of serving together, Riker and Picard's unspoken communiques were almost as effective as the Borg's subspace relay network.
The Federation's first encounter with the Borg had certainly set the stage for much of what many came to regard as an entirely justified mistrust of them. Some years before, the entity known as "Q" had sent the Enterprise spiraling deep into the Delta Quadrant, where they had encountered the Borg. That encounter had not gone well for the humans, as the Borg ship had swiftly disabled one of the Federation's finest, most powerful starships and proceeded with the assimilation of it, its technology, and, ultimately, its people into what was later revealed to be called their Collective, their hive mind and body. That, the Enterprise, and indeed all the political entities in or near Federation controlled space would later learn, was the purpose of the Collective:
"We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ships. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
At first, the Federation had assumed that the Borg wished to pirate their technology. To their horror, they learned there was a bit more to it than that.
The Collective had captured Captain Picard and forcibly assimilated him into it / themselves. They / it had then used his intimate knowledge of Starfleet and the Federation in general to utterly destroy Starfleet's entire armada at the battle of Wolf 359.
With one single ship.
Picard's own intellect, all that he knew of his own people, in the person of "Locutus of Borg," had served to give the Borg as resounding and complete a victory as anything in history.
But that same intellect, multiplied by Picard's own sheer force of will, had, even though imprisoned within the confines of the hive mind, fought his way through the Borg Collective's consciousness, reached out and contacted then-Lieutenant Commander Data, Dr. Beverly Crusher, and Counselor Deanna Troi, giving them the single clue that enabled them to defeat an enemy that, until that day, had known no defeat.
And thus Earth, and the entire Alpha Quadrant, and perhaps all humanity, was saved.
By one single man.
If it had been anybody but Picard requesting his assistance in bringing the Cooperative into the battle with Species 8472, very likely Riker would have found some way to remove himself and his ship from the equation. It was not that he hated the Borg-Starfleet officers were trained to see beyond their emotions-but he'd seen, first hand, the devastation the Borg could cause, and simply did not trust them.
But his respect for Picard had risen into the thousands of percentiles that day, and where Picard led, he would follow. "I notice, Hugh, that you have never given us any details regarding this Species 1199. In what way are they so...formidable?"
Hugh had turned back to look at the holographic display. The Cooperative command structure was still a mystery to the humans, but both of them had privately estimated that Hugh occupied a rank of some status in that structure, being one of the very first members of it. Of course, it would not be anything like what humans were accustomed to, based, as it was, on a system of network communication similar to, but more respectful towards individual nature, than the Borg Collective's own shared consciousness.
"It is difficult to describe, Captain. However, they might be best described as a...virus inhabiting a shared uni-mind. Much like the Collective. Similar to our own. But...rather more vicious."
"More intelligent viri," grumped Riker, trying to sound good-natured. "Doesn't anybody think for themselves these days?"
"We try, Captain." Again, they saw the faintest shadow of smile on Hugh's greyish tinted face. "We try. Ah." He turned his head towards one of the other Borg on the same level, as that same Borg titled his head towards Hugh. That was probably the only sign unaltered humans would ever have of communication between Borg drones, thought Riker. But the word "virus" caused a chill to pass over the back of his neck. "We will be within transporter range in five of your minutes." Just as he spoke, the two officers spied various Borg drones arrayed about the level reaching out into what appeared to be thin air-and drawing back strangely shaped but lethal looking two-barreled weapons, being transported into their hands, courtesy of said transporter systems. Quite efficient, thought Riker. No need to go to any armory to supply themselves.
They could have taken us down any time they liked.
He wasn't sure whether to feel reassured or dismayed by that thought.
"You have Borg warriors on board this ship?" inquired Picard, even as a similar weapon materialized in Hugh's hands.
A very serious Hugh turned towards them. "Admiral," he said, "There is no Borg, whether in the Collective or the Cooperative, who is not a warrior." He turned back towards the assembling drones.
What looked like a young female Borg detached herself from her recharging cubicle and joined the group, a determined expression on her face. Picard couldn't help but smile. Jenny Wong, former ensign aboard the Enterprise, had suffered incredible injuries in an accident in the engineering section. In order to save her life, the Borg of the Cooperative had removed the damaged tissue-which was a large amount-and, after copying the contents of her mind for storage and reinstallation, replaced said tissue with Borg implants and augmentations, effectively "Borging" her, as she'd put it. At first dismayed by being altered into one of the very beings she'd despised, she'd become even more dismayed at her complete and total rejection by her family and friends back on the Enterprise. Such were her feelings that she'd voluntarily joined the Cooperative, feeling as though she'd be more accepted there.
And perhaps, just perhaps, thought Picard, seeing her stride up to Hugh, perhaps there might have been more than one reason. "Admiral?" she said, stopping and giving him a short salute, which he returned. "Good to see you again, sir."
"You, too, Ms. Wong." Jenny had effectively resigned from Starfleet, though Picard had promised her the way back, should she desire. But somehow he doubted she'd make use of the offer. For…more than one reason. Perhaps. "I gather you are in on this away team?"
"Too right, sir. And Hugh's right; these are creatures we're best able to deal with. You'll see, from our cams."
"Jenny?" The surprise was evident in Hugh's voice. Picard wondered why they weren't communicating by the subspace communications array.
Perhaps some thoughts best kept private?
"Jenny?" Hugh turned his head towards her, his laser range locator lighting up the air between then "You are not thinking of accompanying us, are you? We are going into an extremely dangerous situa-*"
"*-with a great many colonists terrorized by god knows what, in need of someone with just my skill set. I've just finished downloading the past three hundred and fifty years of Federation medical knowledge, and you could need that."
"But-*"
"Plus, as a more recent arrival to the Cooperative, I may be able to allay their fears a bit better that someone more Borg-y."
"But-*"
"Plus, if you don't let me go, I'll slap you higgledy piggledy, only this time I won't break my hand on your jaw." She flexed her new bionic hands.
Hugh actually sighed. Riker's jaw almost dropped; Picard turned his face to hide his smile. "Very well. But...do be careful."
"I will be." She reached out and snatched a Borg rifle out of the air in front of her. "Now," she said, holding the weapon at arm's length. "Which end of this thing do I point at them, anyway?"
….
When the Federation had first met up with the Borg, Picard had a hard time seeing them as a serious threat, individually, at least. True, they could adapt to nearly any situation, but still they seemed slow and clumsy, walking tanks, hardly able to stand up to more mobile forces. But that had changed.
The Borg had adapted.
The Borg away team materialized in what looked like a corridor lit by harsh red-orange neon tubes aligned horizontally along the length of the hallway. Without a word (at least, none spoken, noted Riker and Picard, watching from the bridge of the Borg ship), they immediately fell into formation, each one on the outside covering that area, with the ones on the inner circle exercising their internal sensors, as well as specialized ones installed specifically for this mission, to determine the location to the colonists.
Jenny looked down one corridor. The bright orange-red lighting actually obscured the two Starfleet officers' vision, almost like looking into a searchlight. "Down that way," she gestured, "I'm picking up some ninety-eight point sixes down there. Got higher readings coming in from different fronts though." She gestured in the other direction. "I think the guard dogs are on their way."
The Borg squad ran swiftly down the indicated corridor, around another, all of them lit with the harsh orange-red light. The human observers could only watch the visuals from the Borgs's relay, and that was filtered by the Borg nanoprocessors. They were not getting the whole picture.
Then the first of the alien "guard dogs" arrived.
Through the audio component of the feed, Picard and Riker (and, due to a suggestion on Jenny's part, Dr. Crusher, on board the Enterprise), could hear the shreeek! of the corridor's metal bulkheads giving way. Something dropped down from overhead, landing in an area just then vacated by the Borg troops.
The three watching humans couldn't really get a good look at it. It seemed to be shifting, or perhaps vibrating while they watched. It looked like some sort of animal, a quadruped about four feet square, but turned inside out, its fat and muscle tissue on the outside. It turned towards the intruders, still shifting, crouched down, and sprang.
But, forewarned by their sensors, the Borg had already covered that area. They were living autotargeting systems, and their weapons were literally parts of their bodies; they didn't, they couldn't, miss.
Some sort of invisible wave washed over the creature, and it twisted in mid-air, its body wrenching first one way then the other with such force that the Starfleet officers could clearly hear a sickening crack!-of its bones-or whatever it had- breaking. It landed on its back, parts of it already shriveling like a bug on a hot griddle, already dead. The Federation people could hear the sound of ripping metal behind them, as yet another panel, this one on one side, was ripped open and more of the aliens began squeezing through, their bodies squeezing through, falling onto the floor with a thump!
"Admiral?" Riker, along with Picard, was watching from the Borg ship's flying bridge. He happened to glance over and saw something disquieting: Jean- Luc Picard, Admiral of the United Federation of Planets, looked…
….afraid.
"I'm...remembering something of this species, Number One. And, yes, it might be wise to let our...allies handle it."
The Borg troops dashed around another corner, some of them covering their rear, while others covering the other sides. None too soon; several spots on the walls were ripped open and more of the creatures poured in.
"Doesn't anybody use doors anymore?" quipped Riker.
But the Borg were ready. Their autotargeting programs aimed perfectly; not one shot missed. Whenever a Borg fired, an alien soldier died. "What are those weapons, anyway?" inquired Riker.
"Nanite gene scramblers, Captain. Self-replicating. Very effective against this kind of foe. And also a beam of anti-life."
"Anti-life? What's that?"
"A beam of energy that disrupts normal life functions. We'll give you the specs. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Course, of course." The Borg hadn't had that before, he knew.
On board the alien ship: The Borg had come to a massive door. "In here," said Jenny, waving her sensor, "they're behind this door."
Hugh motioned to a Borg behind him. "Cassandra?" A female Borg stepped up and raised her left arm. A tube snapped out from it. She aimed at the extreme outer edge of the vault door-and an invisible beam of spacial displacement sliced through the thick metal as if it were butter. Two other Borg grasped the door, using their enhanced strength, their hands sinking into the tough steel, making sure it didn't fall inwards. Pulling it outward, they laid it on the floor as the others swarmed in.
Inside were a group of humans, huddled in one corner. While the others guarded the door and the walls, Jenny went over to them, noticing how they flinched away. Devil and deep blue sea? Well, of course. What could she expect? "It's alright," she reassured them, slipping the odd-looking sidearm she was carrying back into a holster at her side, snapping it shut. Jenny herself had been responsible for the death of at least a dozen alien drones. Even though not turned that way, she could hear the thudding of the Borg weapons as they continued to pile up an impressive bodycount, could literally see the action on the frontlines as the bodycams attached to each Borg relayed that information to her through the Borg subspace relay. The aliens didn't seem to have any concept of personal safety or survival. "It's alright," she reassured them again, "We're with the Cooperative. We're here to help. Do you have injured?"
"My daddy!" exclaimed a small boy, "he's sick!" And he pointed over to one corner, where a man was strapped onto a gurney. Even without Jenny's "Borg Eye," she could tell he was way beyond "sick."
She went over to him. Hugh joined her. In addition to her bionic eye, her sensors told her the story. "He's not just sick," she told Hugh, in a low tone of voice, glancing behind them, "he's infected. Those bastards have put something in him."
"Can anything be done for him?"
"I, I don't know." She went back over to the huddled humans. "Which of you is his wife? Come with me."
She led the woman over to the gurney. The man upon it was shifting strangely, his flesh protruding in spots, then subsiding, then bulging again. He was obviously in agony. "Ma'am? I wish I had better news for you, but, but I don't think we can save him. I'm really sorry."
"Noooo!" The woman grasped Jenny's metallic arm. "Can't, can't you, you do something?"
"I'm afraid not. He's been infected with a retrovirus. It's changing him into a being like...like those creatures." She couldn't think of a vile enough word. Have to download a few, once we get back.
The poor woman broke down, still holding onto Jenny's arm. "But, but, couldn't you, like…." And Jenny knew what she was trying to say: Can't you make him like you?
Jenny turned to Hugh. "Could we...you know…." Borg him?
The way you did me?
But Hugh was shaking his head. "I'm afraid not. The retrovirus has spread too far. It's in practically every cell of his body. There's nothing to replace or augment." But then he thought. "But there is one thing we might could do. If, that is, Dr. Crusher will share those files with us."
"What files?"
"Twice the Federation has encountered humans frozen in cryosleep. That won't cure him, but it will stop the spread of the disease until such a time as we can come up with a cure. But it would be a long-term affair. Maybe hundreds of years." He turned to the woman. "Would this meet with your approval?"
"Yes, yes, anything! Just...save him! Please!" It was totally lost on her that the fearsome Borg had come to their salvation.
"Very well. But we'll have to transport you all back to the ship. We can't do that here."
The Borg cube ship: the infected man had been isolated in a single room, within a containment field. "Dr. Crusher?"
"Sending those files now, Hugh." Within moments, the adaptable Borg ship had reconfigured to administer the cryogenic treatment. The other colonists were watching from above; Hugh had thought it best they see no harm was being done to their fellow. {{Now,}} he commanded, through the Borg network.
A freezing mist flooded the small containment field. Its effect was immediate: the man's skin stopped bubbling, and he ceased writhing in pain.
The man's son was watching from overhead. "Wow. So...he'll be okay?"
"Yes," replied Hugh. "A cure will be found. We just don't know when."
The boy was eyeing Hugh's rifle. "That is some kickin' gun you've got there."
"Uh, yes." A kickin' gun? What was that?
"Could I see it, please?"
"Of course." Seeing no harm, he handed the rifle to the boy…..
"Hugh! Don't!"
….And the boy swiftly turned the gun on Hugh and shot him right in the chest.
Blackness came over him…..
….
He awoke to a strange sight: the ceiling of a small apartment. Normally, Borg recharged standing upright, in cubicles. Nor did they need any compartment of their own. This was unusual, but he recognized it as Jenny's room. "Why am I horizontal?" he asked. He was lying on a human-style bed.
"A better question," said Jenny's angry voice, from off to the side, "is why you aren't horizontal six feet under. Haven't I told you how irrational humans-especially young humans-can be?"
He sat up, feeling his jaw. Borg furniture had to be especially reinforced, since the Borg, being mostly metal, weighed hundreds of pounds more than humans. He felt dents on his jaw that his self-repair systems hadn't gotten to yet. "I must've hit my head on the way down."
"That was me," she said. She came over and sat by him on the reinforced bed. "I wanted to get in my licks while you were still alive enough for it to make a difference." Plus I was trying to slap you awake.
"I must've been," he said, "pretty bad off." Not that you needed any excuse to hit me.
"You took a full anti-life charge to the chest. Anything else would've died immediately. I wonder why you didn't. But, yeah, 'pretty bad off' fairly well covers it."
"How bad off?"
"You've been out for a week. I was sure we'd lost you." Her organic eye seemed to be leaking. Some defect, no doubt.
"'A week'?"
"There an echo in here? Yeah. A week. We're back in Federation space, passing the orbit of Saturn. We're readying the colonists for transport back to Earth."
"What about-*"
"We've got him in a containment field. Best we could do." Suddenly, she leaned over and hugged him. "Hugh, don't scare me like that!"
"How would you like me to scare you?"
At that instant, the door chimed. Hugh silently signaled, {{enter}}.
The door dilated to reveal the man's mother and his son. "M-Mr. Hugh, is it? I, that is to say, we," and she cast an angry eye at the boy by her side, "would-would like to apologize. Don't we, Georgy?"
Georgy looked down at his feet, clearly ashamed. "Y-yes, Mr. Borg. I, I'm sorry for what I did. I...I was just angry. I thought for sure you'd killed my daddy."
Hugh approached the pair. "It's quite alright, er, Georgy, is it? Believe it or not, I do understand. No-what is the expression?-no hard feelings?" And he stuck out his hand.
They shook hands, one made of flesh and one made of steel. "Well," said the boy's mother, "we'd best be getting along." And they left.
Jenny watched with some amusement. "You handled that quite well."
"Handled what?"
…
The Enterprise emerged from the Borg cube to the vast relief of Earth and the entire Federation in general. The last time a Borg ship had come this close, it had nearly signaled the end of the entire human race. Even though Admiral Picard had called ahead, still, messages could be simulated.
The colonists were transported to a holding area on Earth, with the forewarning that one of them must remain in cryosleep. All the knowledge the Cooperative had regarding Species 1199 was transmitted to Federation high command. It did nothing to allay any fears. "But what were those, those things?" asked Vice Admiral Mallay. One single polaron disruptor beam had seen to it that particular ship would prey on no one else ever again.
"In a word?" replied Hugh, "Monsters."
Captain Riker remained on the Borg ship just long enough to make sure everything was alright. Everything wasn't alright. He stopped by Hugh's ready room, modeled after Riker's own. Hugh was sitting in a reinforced chair, looking troubled. "Hugh? What's wrong?"
Without a move on Hugh's part, a holographic image sprang from a crystal on Hugh's desk. It showed the boy, crying, "They killed my daddy!"
A news reporter broke in "Another atrocity by the Borg. Already, Starfleet High Command has called for serious sanctions against the Cooperative. More later."
"Hugh," said Riker, "You can't let this discourage you. I know it's bad, but the only thing you can do is, is to do your best. In time, people will come to see that you are not…not the monsters they believe you to be." It hurt to say that, but it needed to be said.
"I know it's discouraging. But don't let it get you down." And he turned and left.
In the silence following, in the empty room, Hugh muttered. "You are right, Captain Riker. As always.
'It is discouraging."
To be continued…'
Maybe