Negotiations
Source Episode: VOY 6x16 Collective
CW: Brief flashback to a pregnancy loss
The cube shuddered under the force of Equinox's phasers, but none of the drones paid it any attention. All eyes were on me as I held their administrator at knifepoint.
"Open a comm channel to the Equinox," Chakotay snapped.
Still they watched First for direction.
I pressed the tip of the knife into his skin, opening a small cut and making him flinch. I couldn't afford to hesitate in killing the boy in my arms. If he fought back, I wouldn't stand a chance against his Borg-enhanced strength.
At the moment, it wouldn't be a problem.
Ransom's death filled me with a kind of rage I hadn't felt since the Maquis, except this time it was more personal. Because of the drone in my arms, Ransom was dead. Because of this damned Cardassian Borg, I had been forced to kill my own comrade.
"Do it," I growled.
"Comply," First told the others.
The female drone tapped buttons on a tactile interface, leading me to guess that her assimilation tubules had not yet been installed when she emerged prematurely from the maturation chamber.
Within seconds, Burke's voice took over the comm system. "This is Equinox. Are you ready to surrender the hostages?"
"No surrender!" shouted First.
I snorted. Typical Cardassian pride.
"Then why the hail?" Burke asked.
"Commander Burke," Chakotay said, "this is Commander Chakotay from Voyager. We were able to escape from our holding cell during the battle and made our way to the command center. Eelo's got her knife on the administrative drone's throat at the moment, so we'd appreciate it if you would hold your fire while we discuss terms with these Borg."
There was a pause on the line, then, "Acknowledged. Is there anything we can do to help?"
"Sit tight. If the shields drop, I wouldn't mind a security detachment."
"No reinforcements!" First shouted.
"You're hardly in a place to make demands, Cardassian," I snarled in his ear.
"Understood, sir. Burke out."
"His designation is First," Second said.
I glanced up. "What?"
The boy turned his whole body to face me. "You referred to him as 'Cardassian.' That is not his designation. His designation is First."
His matter-of-fact delivery threw me, knocking the edge off my anger.
"His species is Cardassian," Chakotay explained as he tinkered with the settings on both phasers. When he finished, he looked up. "These are set to wide beam, meaning that if any of you cause trouble, Lieutenant Commander Eelo and I will shoot you all simultaneously. You won't have time to adapt. Understand?"
"Yes," said Second.
Chakotay looked to the other drones. "What about the rest of you? You understand what I just said?"
"We will not defy the will of the collective," the girl replied.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It means they agree with Second," I said, "unless First here chooses to be a problem."
Chakotay looked at First. "Well? Are you going to cause trouble and make me shoot you all?"
He clenched and relaxed his jaw. "We will not resist."
"Good," I said before releasing my hold and shoving him a safe distance away. Sheathing my knife, I walked to Chakotay and reclaimed my phaser.
"Your designation is First," Chakotay said to the Cardassian. Then to the other adolescent boy, he said, "And you're Second."
"That is correct," Second said.
Chakotay looked at the other three drones. "What are your designations?"
"I am Third," said the girl. She gestured to the twins. "They are Fourth and Fifth."
"My name is Commander Chakotay." He gestured to me. "This is Lieutenant Commander Eelo."
"You were the second to emerge from the maturation chambers?" I asked Second. He seemed more willing to talk, and I had no interest in speaking to First anyway.
"No," Second replied, "the first. I could not establish order. I became Second, and he—" Second tilted his head, indicating the Cardassian— "became First."
"So you've established a chain of command," Chakotay said.
"We are Borg," First spat. "We are a collective."
"A collective of five underdeveloped drones on a ship normally run by thousands," I pointed out.
"When we re-establish our link with the collective," Second said, "they will come for us."
"Is that why you want the deflector dish from Equinox?" Chakotay asked.
"We will modify it to amplify our neural link," Third said.
I looked at the girl closely for the first time. As I studied her face—sharply-angled nose ridge similar to Second's, big grey eyes, pointed chin—I couldn't help but think of Anelina, the young Brenari girl the Devore had arrested on Voyager for being born a telepath. This girl was the wrong species, but if her eyes were brown instead of Borg-gray and she had a head full of dark curly hair, she could have looked almost the same. She was even the right age, appearing to have barely reached adolescence before being assimilated.
"What do you think, Talia?" Chakotay's voice cut into my thoughts. He'd been saying something to the drones, but I was so focused on the girl that I missed it.
"About what?"
A slight frown crossed his face but quickly disappeared. "I was just explaining why we can't give them the deflector, and I suggested that perhaps we could help them make repairs to their own systems instead."
On the surface, it sounded like a viable idea—especially once Voyager reached us. It would buy time and give us more leverage with the drones as we tried to convince them not to return to the Borg. "Yes, I think we can do that."
Chakotay turned to First. "What do you say? If we help you repair your technology, will you let us take our shuttle and return to our people safely?"
First glared at him, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. But we were the ones with the guns, so he didn't have many options. "You have two hours."
"Hold on," I said. "Neither Chakotay nor I are engineers, and the engineers on Equinox aren't familiar with Borg technology. Voyager should make it here in four hours, and there are multiple crew there with the right knowledge and experience to help you. We should wait for them."
"You will repair the systems by the time your other vessel arrives, or we will assimilate you."
The limit of two hours had just become four with relatively little negotiation. First was proud like a Cardassian and stubborn like an adolescent of any species, but he was also Borg. Drones were programmed to follow, not lead. He was already bending to our will. How much more would we be able to shape him before he snapped and did to us what he had done to Captain Ransom?
I shook my head. "Uh-uh. That's not how this works. We have the guns, so we tell you what to do. We could shoot you all and leave now if we wanted. But we're staying to help because you need our assistance. We disabled your engines, and they won't regenerate without neuroelectric energy from the hive mind. Whatever you're doing to protect your ship from the corrosive effects of the nebula won't last forever, and you can't escape. You need us. So either accept our terms, or we're leaving."
First clenched his jaw.
I pointed my phaser at his chest. "Comply."
His face twisted into a silent snarl.
"Does he speak for all of you?" Chakotay asked the other children. "You don't have to follow him. A collective is supposed to make decisions together, not blindly follow one forceful leader."
The drones all stared at him blankly.
"What if your problem isn't something that can be fixed with technology?" I asked them.
"Clarify," Second said.
"Something happened here that no one understands—something that killed every adult drone on this ship. Clearly, you're all very smart and capable, yet you haven't been able to figure out why your maturation chambers malfunctioned or why your neural link was severed. What if it isn't a problem with your technology? What if it's something else? We can help you find answers. We used to have a crewman who was Borg, who was liberated from the hive and became an individual. Our doctors on Voyager know a lot about Borg physiology."
"Used to?" Second repeated. "What happened to your Borg crewman?"
"She left us to join the Unimatrix Zero rebellion," Chakotay said. "She's fighting for Borg freedom from the control of the hive mind."
"Rebellion," Third said, tilting her head. "An act of violent or open resistance to an established government or ruler."
"That's right."
"We are Borg!" First insisted. "We have no government. No ruler."
"What about the queen?" Chakotay asked.
Second tilted his head. "Queen?"
"The primary administrative drone for the collective," I clarified. "Her designation is Loran."
First's face went slack.
"Administrators bring order to chaos," Second said. "They are necessary for survival."
"We have administrators, too," Chakotay said. "Our captains and commanders. They bring us order and help us to survive, but they don't force us to give up our individuality. We choose to follow our leaders freely. They don't force us. Believe it or not, you're individuals now, too. You're not linked to one another or to the collective. You don't have to follow First if you don't want to."
"Commander Chakotay," one of the twin boys said. Hearing him speak was such a surprise that it pulled my attention almost completely away from observing First.
"Are you an administrator?" the other twin asked.
Chakotay smiled. "Yes, I am. On Voyager, I'm second and Captain Janeway is first."
"If we choose not to follow our first," Second said, "will you be our administrator?"
I shifted my gaze to First, expecting him to protest such a suggestion, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Why had the mention of Loran's designation affected him in such a way? The answer came to me as quickly as the question. "You were in Unimatrix Zero."
He didn't reply.
"First," I said firmly as I stepped closer to him. He blinked and pulled his focus back onto me. "Did you know Loran? Were you in Unimatrix Zero?"
For a moment, his expression seemed to register fear. He looked almost childlike, vulnerable. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished behind a mask of hatred. "Do not engage us in irrelevant conversation. Repair our systems."
"We should allow their other vessel to help us when it arrives," Second said.
First turned his glare onto Second, but Second did not back down. Looking again at me, First snarled, "When your other vessel arrives, you will request one engineer to assist in repairs and one doctor to study the inactive drones." He looked at Chakotay. "If you are able to reactivate our neural link, we will release your shuttle and allow you to return to your ships. If you fail, we will assimilate you." With that, he crossed to the farthest interface console, decisively ending our conversation.
Chakotay turned to Second. "Equinox will want to retrieve Captain Ransom's body as soon as possible. I'd rather not leave him down there until this is all done."
"We can temporarily deactivate the shielding surrounding that section to allow for transport."
"I appreciate it," Chakotay said with a nod. "If you open a comm link, I'll inform Equinox of our agreement." When Second stepped away to relay the orders to Third, Chakotay held up my tricorder and motioned me closer. "I want you to start gathering data on what happened to this cube," he murmured. "When Voyager gets here, we can send them data and samples for analysis, but I want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible."
"What about their neural link?" I asked, stowing the tricorder in my pocket.
"I'll look into their systems. It can't be much different from the tech I worked on at the Unity One colony. I'll gather as much info as I can, but I'm gonna play it stupid. We need to buy time until Voyager gets here. Whatever it takes, we cannot hand these kids over to the Borg."
One by one, I did a thorough examination of each maturation chamber inside the complex. The chambers were similar to regeneration alcoves in size and shape, though they were enclosed for the child's protection and slightly larger in size than an alcove. They were designed to change with the child, tailoring the space to each drone's unique developmental needs.
Five units stood open—units that once contained five drones who were now running the cube. They had indeed malfunctioned spontaneously, just as the drones claimed. Four other units had suffered from malfunctions that were fatal to the developing drones inside. Those units remained closed, and I hoped that I wouldn't need to open them.
One unit was still active.
Using my tricorder to interface with the Borg computer system, I opened a circular viewport at the center of the unit and gasped at what I saw inside—a fully-developed fetus.
He was curled up in an artificial uterus, floating in amniotic fluid and attached to the cube by the Borg version of an umbilical cord. Like both Second and Third, he had a long ridge along the length of his nose and the middle of his forehead. Whatever species they were must have been the cube's most recent victims. He hadn't been there for long.
But something was wrong. My tricorder beeped out a warning, and I frowned at the interface. The maturation chamber was malfunctioning, just not severely enough to shut down its functioning... yet.
Suddenly I was back on that hot desert planet, the once-lively child in my belly gone completely still. My hand trembled, sweat slicking the tricorder's metal casing.
The baby was going to die.
As quickly as the flashback hit, it receded. I wasn't in a gravity well, but on a Borg cube... which was almost as horrifying. But here I had more resources.
Maybe this child could live.
"Chakotay," I called. He was at my side in an instant. "He isn't getting enough oxygen."
Second followed Chakotay over. "We have attempted to stabilize the chamber's oxygen levels, but it is too badly damaged."
"It is Borg," First said. "It will adapt."
"No." I glared at First. "He'll die unless we get him to Equinox."
"They cannot assist us. Is that not why we are waiting for your other vessel to arrive?"
"You're right," Chakotay said, glancing over my tricorder's readings. "Voyager's crew are more familiar with Borg technology and physiology than anyone on Equinox. But this child may not live long enough to wait for Voyager."
"The chief medical officer on Equinox is highly competent," I added. "More than that, she is this child's best chance at survival right now."
First glared at me.
"Please let me help him," I begged. "He's part of your collective, but he won't be for much longer."
For a painfully long moment, First didn't reply. Finally, he said, "Second will take the drone to another location for transport. We will not lower shields around this section."
I released my breath. "Thank you."
"There is an incubation pod we can transport the drone into," Second said.
Chakotay nodded. "I'll contact Equinox and let them know."
By the time Voyager arrived, Chakotay and I had enough data to know two things. The first was that my suspicion turned out to be correct—Second and Third's people were the cube's most recent victims, having been assimilated just days before disaster struck. The second was that the Borg had not only received their distress call but sent an encoded response that the surviving drones were unaware of.
The Borg had no intention of salvaging them. Instead, the collective had issued a command to self-destruct.
I was incredibly glad that Chakotay had opted to play stupid with the drones. None of them would have taken that news well, but least of all First. What would he do if we told him the truth? Would he comply with the Borg's command? Or would he call us liars and have us assimilated like Captain Ransom?
Chakotay explained what he could openly divulge to Captain Janeway, and she agreed to First's terms. "I'll send Dr. Schmullis and Chief Torres over right away."
"Actually," I interjected, "I was thinking it might be better to send Crewman Ghemor."
Chakotay shot me a look.
"Oh?" Janeway said. "And why do you say that?"
"I need her... expertise... on this one."
The captain was silent for a moment. "Very well. Is there anything else?"
"Not that I know of," Chakotay said, still glaring at me. "What about you, Lieutenant Commander Eelo?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Keep us apprised of your progress," the captain said. "Janeway out."
Chakotay just about rounded on me as soon as the channel closed, though he kept his voice low. "Do you mind letting me in on your little plan?"
"No plan. Just a hunch."
"A hunch."
"That our young admin might respond better to us if he meets another member of his own species. Besides," I added, lowering my voice to a whisper, "if you and I can manipulate him as well as we have, just imagine what Iliana can do."
Chakotay pressed his lips together, clearly unhappy with the arrangement. Still, he gave a slight nod. "Alright. We'll see what happens."
