Who We Are
Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective
CW: Violence, character death
"Talia! Wake up!"
I tried to cling to my warm, thick blanket of unconsciousness for as long as I could, but it was hard to do when someone kept shaking me and yelling. Although I couldn't put my finger on why, I knew that I most definitely did not want to face whatever existed outside of me. Maybe if I ignored the shaking and yelling, it would go away and I could sleep.
The person sighed. "Damnit, Talia, don't make me slap you."
I groaned.
A large hand gripped mine—probably because I'd reached for him.
Him, who?
Chakotay. Yes, that was it. I was with Chakotay. But where? And why did my head feel so strange and heavy?
"Talia, open your eyes."
It was hard, but I did as he asked. Luckily, the room was only lit with a dim, green light that was easy on the eyes, and Chakotay's head was blocking anything from shining directly onto my face. I couldn't make out his features, but it was definitely him.
Where the hell were we?
I sat up, then instantly regretted it. My stomach twisted, forcing everything up my throat and into my mouth. I flipped onto my hands and knees, vomiting on the grated floor. Evidently, the room had been built with just that sort of reaction in mind, because there was a catch below the grate that flowed with water to rinse everything away.
Chakotay pulled my hair back from my face. My ponytail was a frizzy mess and a lot of hair had slipped out of it. He wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me slowly to my feet. I was so dizzy that I damn near fell over, but Chakotay held me steady. Once I was on my feet, he walked me to a corner of the room where a faucet protruded from the wall. He twisted the handle, bringing forth a steady stream of water.
I cupped my shaking hands under the stream and brought the lukewarm liquid to my lips. After rinsing the taste of bile away, I fell to my knees and let the water flow directly into my mouth, drinking gratefully. It wasn't until I turned the water off, sat back against the wall, and took a good look around that I remembered what had happened to us.
"The cube," I whispered, scrambling to my feet. Hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood, sending tingling sensations through my skin. All that kept the flashbacks and terror at bay was the very real imminent danger of our situation. I wasn't usually one to lose control in the moment. Falling apart wouldn't become an option until after we were rescued.
If we were rescued.
The chamber we were in was odd—very odd. Borg drones didn't need to drink water, nor did they have any use for a wastewater system. Their implants took care of all such needs.
My eyes fell upon a half-assimilated corpse lying on a slab in the other corner, and suddenly I knew where we were. "An assimilation chamber."
Chakotay nodded. "That was my suspicion."
I frowned. "But we haven't been assimilated yet. Why?"
"I don't know."
"How long have you been awake?"
"Not much longer than you. Just long enough to throw up, drag myself to the water faucet, and wake you up."
I circled the chamber slowly, running my fingertips across the conduit-covered walls. As I neared the opening to a corridor, I could hear the faint hum of a force field. "Have you seen any drones pass by?"
"No, but it's not like we have a clear view from here."
"Heard any footsteps?"
"None."
I turned to face him. "Drones don't walk softly. If someone passed by, you'd know. Something's wrong here. I think this cube might be understaffed."
"Can you hack their system without a tricorder?"
I shook my head. "No, and it doesn't look like they put any interface panels in this room. But if there are only a few drones on board, and they're all disconnected from the hive mind, maybe—maybe—we can actually talk to them."
We waited for a very long time, but no one came to assimilate us. Not even a single drone seemed to pass within hearing range of the assimilation chamber. How many hours had it been?
Finally, we heard footsteps.
Two underdeveloped male drones were escorting Captain Ransom to see us. The drones both looked like adolescents who had emerged from their maturation chambers too early. Not all of their implants had developed, leaving odd gaps in the exoplating along their chests, legs, and arms.
One boy was taller and more muscular than the other, making him much more imposing. By the corded ridges framing his face and neck, and the upside-down droplet of cartilage between his eyes, I knew at a glance he was Cardassian.
The other boy was slightly shorter and more reserved in his mannerisms. He was distinguished by a sharp ridge that ran along the bridge of his nose and faded into what might have once been his hairline. I didn't recognize his species as one we'd encountered in our journey, but the abundance of gaps in his exoplating suggested that he was a more recent victim of assimilation.
Out of the two, he was the weaker link—the one who had the most humanity left in him. If anyone could be persuaded to sympathize with us, it would be him.
"See?" the Cardassian snapped at Ransom. "The hostages are unharmed, just as I told you."
"I'd like to examine them," Ransom said.
"That was not part of the agreement."
Ransom grunted, then looked at us. "Are you hurt?"
"Nothing serious," Chakotay said.
I eyed the drones.
"Don't let their appearance fool you, Commander Eelo," Ransom said. "They're in control of this vessel and all of its armaments."
"How many are there?"
"Enough!" shouted the Cardassian. Clearly, he was the administrator of the cube. "You've seen the hostages. Now give us the deflector."
"I never said I'd give you our deflector," Ransom insisted. "I said I'd consider your offer if you gave me reassurance that my people were unharmed. I need to return to my ship and try to make contact with the other vessel in our fleet. Its captain is my superior officer. I can't make this trade without her."
The Cardassian grabbed Ransom by the front of his shirt and shoved him hard against a bulkhead, barring his other arm against Ransom's throat. "No! We will not allow you to call reinforcements. Give us the deflector now!"
"We need more time. The deflector array is essential to our—"
"No more excuses! No more deceptions! The deflector!"
Ransom grit his teeth, straining to breathe despite the drone's arm pressing against his throat. "No."
"Second, inject him."
The other drone seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before setting his face with a determined expression. In two strides, he walked over and plunged his assimilation tubules into Ransom's neck. Ransom howled, his cry echoing through the corridor and making my insides twist. The drone recoiled, yanking his tubules out as if the action had burned him, and stepped back.
"Release the containment field," the Cardassian demanded.
The boy inserted his tubules into an interface panel on their side of the threshold, and the forcefield deactivated. The Cardassian shoved Ransom into the chamber with us, leaving Chakotay and I scrambling to catch him while the forcefield went back up. Without another word, both boys turned around and left.
"Hey!" I screamed after them, transferring Ransom's weight to Chakotay and lunging towards the forcefield. I stopped just short of the threshold. "Hey, wait! I need to talk to you!"
No response.
"Comply!"
But their footsteps had already faded away.
"Talia," Chakotay said. "I need your help."
I sighed and turned back to my comrades, reaching out to retake some of Ransom's weight. The wound in his neck was bleeding, which was odd—usually, nanoprobes formed an instant clot at the site of injection and encouraged rapid cellular regeneration, leaving no mess behind. The vessels in his skin were turning gray, but no implants were forming.
Slowly, Chakotay and I lowered Ransom to the floor, propping him up against a bulkhead. We stripped off his uniform jacket and the high-collared shirt beneath it, leaving only his sleeveless undershirt in place.
The wound on his neck wasn't bleeding profusely, but it still concerned me. I ripped a section of his shirt and pressed it against his neck to staunch the flow of blood. "That drone didn't want to assimilate you."
"How... do you know?" Ransom asked, pausing in between words to gasp for air.
"He hesitated. And when you screamed, he pulled back. If I could just talk to him—"
"Good luck... with that. The other drone... the Cardie... he calls himself... First. Keeps them all... on a tight leash."
"He's the admin drone," I said.
"How many are there?" Chakotay asked.
"Five." Ransom grunted as he shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable. "The other three... are younger. Two twin boys... and a girl. All other drones... dead."
"What happened to them?" I asked.
"Didn't know... maturation chambers... malfunctioned..."
"They emerged early?"
Ransom nodded.
"What did First want the deflector dish for?" Chakotay asked.
"Didn't say. Whatever it is... the deflector on your shuttle... won't cut it."
"I wonder if they can modify it to boost their comm signal," I said, "or even relink with the hive mind."
"Regardless," Chakotay said, "it's not something we can afford to give them. Without it, Equinox will be dead in the water, and it'll attract company we're not ready to face yet."
"I had to keep... them talking," Ransom said. "Buy time. I don't know... where the hell... Voyager is."
"They'll find us and get us out of here," I assured him.
Ransom dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "I know."
His skin seemed to be yellowing, but it was hard to tell in the Borg-green lighting, and he was still panting as he drifted off to sleep. It wasn't at all the way I had imagined assimilation would look, even in its early stages. Sure, the drone hadn't intended to actually assimilate Ransom, but the symptoms should be similar. What were those nanoprobes doing to him? Why were there still two holes in his neck?
And why did that young drone act like injecting Ransom was painful for him, too?
Lifting the fabric from Ransom's neck, I examined the wound. The blood was beginning to clot, and the fluid coming out was mostly plasma, but the nanoprobes didn't seem to be doing much for him. I pressed the fabric down again.
"Tay," I murmured, handing him Ransom's shirt, "I need a fresh swath for the wound and a strip to tie it in place. Please."
He nodded and started carefully ripping into the shirt.
"It should be healing," I said. "The nanoprobes should be regenerating the cells around the injection site."
"I guess assimilation isn't as straightforward as adult drones make it look."
There was no way to gauge the passage of time inside that little cell. Our captors never came back to check on us, and we had nothing at all to eat. We felt confident that at least a day had passed since Chakotay and I were captured, meaning time was running out for Voyager to find us.
Chakotay and I searched high and low for anything in the room that we could use to escape—or at least get someone's attention—but came up empty. The chamber had been designed with resistant prisoners in mind. All we could do was sit there and wait for the clock to run out.
Ransom had even less time. After those first few restless hours of sleep, he'd learned how to control his breathing. Still, he couldn't seem to get enough oxygen, which left him in a constant state of exhaustion. We helped him to lay down—jacket balled beneath his head as a pillow—but he didn't have the strength to move from his spot. All he could do was turn over every so often.
Until he couldn't even do that anymore.
More worrisome was that his skin had turned definitively yellow, as had the whites of his eyes. If he didn't get help soon, he was going to die.
"Still got that fancy knife of yours?" he asked me.
I nodded.
"Then there's one more play we can make."
"We're listening," Chakotay said.
"You need to kill me."
"What?" I nearly shouted.
Chakotay frowned. "You can't be serious."
"I'm very serious," Ransom said. "The drones don't know this, but Max is keeping an eye on our lifesigns. No doubt that Cardie has used my injury to pressure Max on the issue of the deflector dish, but Max won't budge until he hears from me or Captain Janeway... or until he loses my lifesign."
"What would he do if you died?" Chakotay asked.
"He's a good officer, but he gets brash and impulsive when he's worked up. My guess? He'll get trigger-happy. This thing will come to blows."
"The drones will kill us," I said.
"They might," Ransom agreed, "but you'll get your chance to talk to them before they do. Maybe you can convince them to make friends."
"I'm not sure that a shoot-out is a good idea," Chakotay warned. "The cube could destroy Equinox."
"Max'll run before that," Ransom said. "But even if he runs, the weapons-fire will give Voyager's sensors something more solid to trace. The cube's projecting a dispersal field around their ship. Damn thing is impossible to find until you trip over it, and it's probably masking Equinox's signature just by proximity. But weapons mucking up the chemicals and matter in the nebula... that's a different story."
I looked away and began to pace the length of the chamber. It was smart—provoking Burke and the cube to make a scene for Voyager to find. Still I shook my head. "No. I won't do it."
"It's the only way," Ransom insisted.
"No! It's not. There's something else, we just have to find it."
"You've looked. You and the commander searched this room forwards and backwards. I know you did because you kept interrupting my sleep. There's nothing here."
"So you want me to kill you?"
"I'm dying anyway. It's slow going. I'd rather get it over with."
"You're not dead yet, which means there's a chance to save you."
"Not if Voyager doesn't find us soon."
I looked to Chakotay for help, but his face was full of resignation. "What, no comment?"
He shrugged. "He's got a point. It's either that or keep waiting."
I scoffed, throwing up my hands. "I can't believe this. We don't even know if anything will come from this batshit idea of yours. We don't know if Burke will open fire, and we don't know what will happen if he does. Are we really going to trade an officer's life for a gamble?"
"What the hell happened to you?" Ransom snapped.
I frowned, pausing just beside him. "What are you talking about?"
"You heard me. You used to be something else. What happened to the ex-Maquis acting captain who chased off a Hirogen hunting party and threatened to drag me back to Janeway in a tractor beam, feeding me some bullshit about an obscure regulation that didn't even apply?"
I couldn't help but smile a little. All that time, I'd always wondered if he knew I was bluffing.
"What happened to the woman who pulled together her Maquis rebels, stole my ship right out from under me, and ran off to fight a war against a monster time-ship so she could rescue her comrades, knowing what Starfleet would do if they ever found out?"
I looked at the floor.
Ransom grabbed my ankle, demanding my attention. "What happened to the woman who insisted on completing a heist on a Borg sphere despite the fact that she was literally out of her mind? The woman who held herself together until it was over, who pulled off that mission and staged a small mutiny against me when I wanted to cut losses and run?"
"I was right," I hissed, yanking my leg away. "Annika was alive. I was right not to give up on her, and I'm right not to give up on you now."
He studied me closely, the blue of his irises dulled by the jaundice-yellow surrounding them. "No. I remember the look you had then. Same look I saw the first day I met you. That's not the look in your eyes now. You're lost. Scared shitless. Anything but confident. You used to jump at the chance for a good calculated risk, but you don't have the guts anymore to do what needs to be done."
"I will not murder one of my own!" I shouted.
He laughed, which turned into a fit of coughing. "You're not murdering me. Those adolescent Borg murdered me. You're just putting an end to my needless suffering. Death is part of life, Eelo, and there's gonna be a lot more death to come. You might as well get used to it."
Tears started to form in my eyes. I thought of the sim and how I couldn't bear the prospect of harming Chakotay. If it had all been real, and he really had been assimilated, would I have let him take me? Certainly, he would rather I kill him in such a situation.
Were the roles reversed, would Chakotay or Ransom be able to kill me?
Ransom wasn't assimilated, but he was just about dead, and chances weren't good for his survival even if I rejected his request. Voyager had yet to show up, Equinox was in a stand-off they couldn't resolve alone, and both ships were running out of time before the nebula's gasses wore down their shields. None of the Borg survivors had checked on us since leaving Ransom to die. We needed to get everyone's attention.
I glanced at Chakotay, who gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm leaving it up to you, Talia. It's your tagh."
So Chakotay agreed with Ransom, but he wasn't going to order me to kill the man. I was the one who would have to live with it, so it needed to be my call. I had half a mind to toss Chakotay my knife and walk away, but if I did that, Ransom would die.
"We'll give it a couple more hours," I said. "If no one shows up soon and you start really going downhill, I'll do it. But not yet."
"Fair enough," Ransom grunted. "In that case, go away. I'm going to take a nap."
I took a seat on the floor beside Chakotay, who murmured, "You should rest, too."
"We're all exhausted," I said.
"Seriously. Get some sleep. I'll wake you if anything happens."
Balling my jacket and curling up on the floor, I let the black take me.
Ransom screamed, jerking me back to consciousness. The sound reverberated off the walls and seemed to make the entire chamber tremble, but still no one came. Chakotay propped Ransom in a halfway-sitting position against himself, then looked at me. Seeing that I was awake, he gave a solemn shake of his head.
Shaking my jacket out, I tugged it on and zipped it up halfway, my skin somehow cold despite the slightly warm and sticky air.
When I knelt down on Ransom's other side, he grabbed my wrist so tight I thought he might break it. "Please," he begged through gritted teeth. His face was unnaturally yellow, as if it was the only pigment left in his skin, and he was covered in sweat and tears. Blood trickled from one side of his mouth. "Please."
"Okay," I said, pulling out my knife.
His grip on my wrist tightened. "You make sure... make sure my people get home."
Tears welled up in my eyes. "I will, Captain."
"Rudy," he whispered hoarsely.
I smiled at him, wriggling my wrist to loosen his grip and slipping my hand into his. With my other hand, I lowered the blade into position. "We'll get your people home, Rudy. I promise."
More tears flooded his eyes, and he nodded. He was ready.
Sucking in a deep breath, I forced the blade up between his ribs, penetrating his heart. His eyes went wide and his grip tightened painfully. Still I held onto his hand, even as I jerked the knife to a different angle and pulled it back out.
Blood spewed from the wound, covering my hands and soaking my uniform. In seconds, Ransom was unconscious. His hand went limp, and his head flopped onto Chakotay's shoulder. His breathing was rapid and laborious until, within a minute, it simply stopped. Chakotay gently lowered Ransom's head and torso to the floor, and I finally let go of his hand.
Then I just stared at the knife. I wasn't sure what to do next. I needed to clean my blade, but with what? It seemed tasteless to wipe it on Ransom's clothes, and I sure as hell didn't want to wipe it on mine. I reminded myself that my clothes were already covered in his blood, but I still couldn't bear to add more blood to them. Part of my mind wanted to panic, but the rest of me knew we were about to be jumping into action when Burke attacked.
If he attacked.
"Talia," Chakotay said.
I blinked and looked up at him. He was all blurry, and I realized that I must have been crying.
He held out a hand. "Let me clean your knife."
I blinked several more times, forcing the tears from my eyes so I could see, and gave him the knife. He stood and disappeared from my line of sight
My hands. They were red. I couldn't even see my own skin anymore. All I could see was Ransom's blood.
Across the room, water splashed into the catch below the grate. I thought of Ransom's blood rushing out like water from that faucet before slowing to a steady stream. The faucet turned off after a few seconds, but the blood was still dripping from his lifeless body into the catch.
When Chakotay returned, he pulled me to my feet, guided me to the faucet so he could wash my hands, and he dried them with his own jacket. Sliding my knife into its sheath around my ribs and snapping it safely into place, he cleared his throat. "If, uh... if you give me your uniform, I'll rinse it for you."
I shook my head. "I'm not taking the ship in my underwear."
As if on cue, the cube jolted. A pulsating sound echoed through the hull. It had to be phaser fire. The plan worked. Burke had lost Ransom's lifesign and started shooting.
We got their attention.
The power flickered, dropping us briefly into darkness before being restored. Chakotay and I looked at each other. "The force field," he said.
With a sharp nod, I followed him to the chamber's only exit. We stood on either side of the threshold, clinging to nearby conduits for balance and inclining our ears as close to the field as we dared. When another volley made the power flicker again and the hum of the force field died out, we both bolted from the room.
It was a long way to the cube's maturation center, but we made good time. The battle occupied our captors' full attention, giving us an opportunity to take action. Silently, we slipped into the room where five Borg children were busy trying to use a damaged cube to battle a fully-armed starship.
I pulled out my knife, gesturing towards the place where First stood barking orders.
Chakotay nodded, giving me the go-ahead.
I crept around the room, ducking behind conduits and bulkheads and consoles until I reached a good spot to grab the boy. After a volley of weapons-fire from Equinox hit, he turned aside to shout an order at a young female drone. The girl struck me as familiar, giving me a half-second's pause, but I couldn't afford to linger on the thought.
This was my opening.
Charging out from behind an adjacent console, I twisted First's hand behind his back and curled my arm around his neck, pressing the blade against the artery in his neck. "Tell your drones to stand down weapons. We need to talk."
Just then, a klaxon blared.
Chakotay stepped out from behind a console, both of our phasers in hand. The drones must have left them lying around their makeshift command center. Not very efficient. "What does that alarm mean?"
"It's a proximity alert," said the drone who killed Ransom—the one referred to as Second. "Your other vessel has entered scanning range point-two-five lightyears from our position."
I grinned. "Voyager."
