Game Theory
Chapter 6 – Dark Prophecy
Seven awoke to the sound of screaming.
Her eyes snapped open, mind instantly alert and focussed on the disturbance. Her cortical implant told her that her cycle had been interrupted and was incomplete; an unusual and worrying occurrence. She stepped from her alcove, and realised at once that something was very, very wrong.
She was no longer on board Voyager.
Her alcove was attached to a small piece of deck which had apparently been sheared away, as if by some form of cutting beam. It was buckled and charred around the edges, and rested on the ground like an island in the middle of the expanse she found herself in. The loss of power after it had been severed from Voyager must have been what caused her cycle to end early.
Surveying her surroundings, Seven was met with a vision of a hellish landscape, like something out of a nightmare. At least, she assumed this was what a nightmare would look like, never having experienced one herself.
The ground was pockmarked with an endless desert of craters and debris, churned into a charcoal mud which obliterated whatever it may have resembled before. Skeletal ruins of buildings clawed desperately from the shattered earth, their frames blackened, charred, and forlorn. Fires burnt in all directions, some blazing strong as they gutted what little remained intact, and others smouldering quietly amongst the ashes. The air was full of the same grey, sooty dust. It hung like a miasma of pestilence above the carnage. Even the sky was a carnal shade of crimson with thick, swollen clouds dividing it into long, bloody streaks.
Seven could not identify which culture this was from the few tiny, distinctive pieces of architecture she could see. Whoever they were though, something awful was happening to them. She took some small solace in the fact it was not the Borg who were responsible. The Collective would never indulge in such needless destruction.
Tentatively, she took a step forward, dismounting the small piece of Voyager and searching for somewhere to take shelter while she could attempt to ascertain what had happened. As she did, her heel pierced something on the ground with an ominous snapping sound. Looking down, she realised with a sense of revulsion that it was a skull. Beyond it was another, and then an almost fully formed skeleton. In fact, what she had taken for a slight unevenness in the terrain was actually a sea of desiccated remains. Most were nothing more than bones, presumably stripped bare by the flames which had devastated this area, but some were still quite fresh. Seven tried not to look too closely. Whoever they were, they were not human, but bore a certain resemblance. The skull she had crushed was elongated, and some of the skeletons had four distinct arms.
She had seen such a form before. It was the shape Mordecai had borne when he arrived on Voyager.
Another scream sounded, nearer than before, and Seven could also make out a distant thundering rumble. It was accompanied by a bright flash of light. Quickly, she picked her way over the ash-choked, carcass-riddled ground to the cover of a blown out wall. Turning her gaze skyward, she found the sources of the disturbance.
Great, shadowy ships cruised through the sky like birds of prey on the hunt. It was difficult to tell, but from the speed they were moving, Seven surmised they must be massive; Dreadnaught classes many times larger than Voyager. Trails of bombs fell from their undersides, each one impacting on the planet's surface with a muted blast. In the distance, Seven thought she caught a glimpse of more intact areas through the haze, although these were quickly being reduced to rubble by the onslaught.
Suddenly, she was very afraid for Voyager, and for Kathryn. Had they stumbled into a warzone while she had been regenerating? Impossible. There had been no planets for days in every direction. Yet, here she was, and the rest of the ship was nowhere to be seen, although with so much wreckage everywhere, it was possible she was standing in the middle of it. Such thoughts were not productive however, so she worked under the assumption that she alone had somehow been removed from the ship and transported here.
Remaining low, Seven advanced with her back to the wall. She made a point of memorising her route, so that she could find her way back to her alcove if need be. Pressing up against a corner, she peeked round, and got her first sighting of other life forms.
A small group of the four-armed aliens were hurrying along the street. Two of them were fully grown, but the other three were small; children, Seven guessed. A family perhaps? They were clad in simple robes, which looked like they might have once been elegant, but were now soiled with mud and soot. She could just about discern them talking in low, panicked voices, but the universal translator could not interpret what they were saying. She held back, not wanting to reveal herself. It was impossible to determine whether they had weapons, and in their distressed state, they may have mistaken her for an enemy.
Suddenly, a scarlet energy beam erupted from within a nearby ruined shop front. It sliced across the street and struck one of the taller aliens. He, for Seven thought it was a male, dove to the floor, but did not completely escape in time. The laser carved along his left hand side, severing one arm at the shoulder and the other at the elbow. He fell to the ground, screaming, as the others cried out in fear. A second beam came, this time finding its mark. Seven was glad his body was now obscured from view, but the sudden stench of burnt flesh which assaulted her nostrils told her more than enough. The other tall alien, the female as Seven assumed, made some form of keening noise which was unlike any sound a human would make. It adequately conveyed her anguish nonetheless.
Seven was torn. She knew that it was her duty to assist the aliens, who were clearly not soldiers. Certainly, it was what Kathryn would have done, without a moment's hesitation. However, there was nothing she could do now for the male, and she would be unarmed against whatever was attacking them. All she could hope to do was provide a distraction while the rest of the family escaped. But what if it was not enough? If the adversary killed her and then killed them as well, it would all have been for nothing. She did not wish to be terminated. She did not want to leave her hiding place.
I am experiencing fear. Seven noted. She had felt it before, although it was still a relatively new sensation. This was stronger though; a selfish, instinctual fear for her very survival, the kind which paralysed every muscle and overrode rational thought. She willed herself to respond, but could do nothing but watch as their adversary stepped into the light.
She had seen him before. There was no mistaking the metal he was made from.
It was Mordecai, however it was not the man who now inhabited Voyager. It was not even the being they had brought on board. This was something altogether more powerful and all the more terrifying.
He towered over Seven at eight and a half feet in height. His legs were longer than before, with an elongated ankle joint like a terran feline, and viciously sharp talons in the place of feet. His hands too bore the same claws, all four of them; and from the back of each wrist, two foot swords emerged, their edges glowing with some form of concentrated plasma. The biggest change though was his head, which bore no semblance to the human features he had recently worn. It was shaped like an elongated diamond, with the top point comprised of two great, tapering fins. From his upper jaw, four mechanical tentacles emerged, feeling the air with a blind malevolence. The lower jaw was split into two serrated mandibles, but the worst thing of all was his eyes. There were eight of them, like a spider, and every one burned with an eldritch hatred which rolled off him in palpable waves.
He wore no clothes, and his brilliant shining carapace was dulled by layers of caked-on blood and gore. He reeked of death, and as he stalked forward, the shadow of one of the great warships passed overhead, cloaking him in a darkness which fit him like a second skin.
Seven clamped a hand over her mouth, her normally unflappable demeanour deserting her completely as he cut down the family. He didn't hesitate or speak a word as he ended their lives quickly and with an efficiency which the Collective would undoubtedly admire. His four arms made short work of the grizzly duty, and pleading wails swiftly gave way to the soft sound of blood sizzling off his super-heated cutting weapons.
More bombs fell, this time close enough for Seven feel the shockwave. Boulders tumbled, shattering on the street and sending shards of rock scattering in all directions. In her peripheral vision, Seven caught a brief glimpse of similar movement above her, and before she had time to react, a piece of masonry struck her head, hard. Dazed, she staggered forward, falling to all fours. Mordecai, standing unmoving as the scattered remnants of a collapsing empire came crashing down around him, was the last thing she saw.
"Regeneration cycle incomplete."
Seven's eyes opened for a second time. Mordecai! He had almost been on top of her when she'd passed out. She had to escape, to survive, and warn the others. Crying out in a blind panic, she tore herself from her alcove with enough force to bend the prongs which held her in place. It was only when she was finally free that she realised she was no longer on the alien battlefield, surrounded by death and apocalyptic devastation. The comfortingly familiar grey of the cargo bay walls enclosed her on all sides, and spinning around, she saw that her alcove was once again where it belonged, although slightly damaged from her struggle. There were no marks on the floor; nothing to indicate it had been displaced.
She also realised that she was not alone.
"Seven!" a husky, alarmed tone sounded behind her. "My god! What's wrong?"
"Captain?" Seven questioned, her voice sounding timid and small in the large cargo bay. The fear and horror which had been racing through her just seconds ago had not completely abated, yet she found the Captain's presence to be a great comfort.
She had been in a ruined city….there had been someone….someone familiar….so much destruction…
How could she not remember? Her cortical node granted her a perfect memory, so how could she not recall what she had seen? Just moments ago it had seemed so clear, but now, even as she tried to grasp at the fleeting images, they slipped away until all that was left was a sense of lingering unease.
"Seven." Janeway approached her cautiously, her face lined with worry. "What happened? You're so pale."
"I…had a 'dream'," the word felt odd coming from her mouth. She did not dream, and yet, it was the only term which seemed appropriate.
"More like a nightmare by the looks of it," Janeway gave her a half-hearted smile, but concern still lingered at the edges of her eyes. "I thought that didn't happen?"
"It does not," Seven stated uncertainly, although it was in direct contradiction to the evidence. "Regeneration is not like regular sleep. Such an event should not be possible."
She regretted saying it almost immediately when Janeway's expression became sombre. She did not like it when the Captain was distressed.
"I think you should go to sickbay."
Seven sighed, but she knew that it was the right course of action. She couldn't banish the unwelcome sensation that there was more to what had just occurred than a simple change in her physiology. The dream had somehow been important. If only she was able to remember it. Then again, if the feelings it had inspired were indicative of the subject matter, perhaps it was best that she could not.
"I will comply," she said. If nothing else, it would hopefully bring Kathryn some 'peace of mind'. Linking her hands behind her back, she adopted her standard pose. "Was there something you required?"
"Huh?"
"You were present when I…awoke. What did you wish to see me about?"
"Oh," Kathryn glanced away, rubbing the back of her neck. When she next spoke, it was hesitant, and stilted; not at all like her usual, confident demeanour. "I was, er, just passing…when I heard you, so I thought I would, um, see what was happening."
Seven wondered where the Captain would have been going to be 'just passing' the cargo bay, but she accepted the explanation. In truth, she was always pleased to be in Kathryn's company, and did not want to discourage the older woman by questioning her further.
"Are you sure you're okay Seven?" Janeway asked again. "Do you want me to accompany you to sickbay?"
Seven did want that, very much so, but she knew that it was not required. She was perfectly capable of making the trip on her own, and did not want to delay the Captain.
"That will not be necessary," she finally said, before remembering the correct polite response. "Thank you for the offer."
Kathryn smiled slightly at that.
"Anytime. Now, if you excuse me, I've got a meeting with Ensign Mordecai and Ensign Yoshida. It seems the latest addition to the crew had a bit of an altercation."
"An altercation?" Seven enquired, wondering why the mere mention of Mordecai's name was enough to 'set her teeth on edge'.
"Ensign Baker threw a punch at him," Janeway made a face, as if she could smell something unpleasant. Seven knew how much Kathryn disliked it when the crew was not functioning harmoniously, having been the cause of several such disturbances herself in the past. "I'll fill everyone in at the next staff meeting when I have more details."
"Very well," Seven acknowledged. "I will report to sickbay."
"Yes…yes, sorry for holding you up." Kathryn said as they headed for the door. Just before they went their separate ways, she turned back to Seven, and added. "I don't know what the Doctor will have to say…but if you want to talk about it, or have any questions, I'm available."
Janeway had of course told her this before, under a similar set of circumstances. Ordinarily, Seven would have been irritated at someone else for repeating themselves, but she was warmed by the fact that Kathryn would make a point of reminding her. It seemed that attraction was indeed most illogical.
"Yes…that would work," B'Elanna nodded thoughtfully as she studied the padd Mordecai had handed to her.
Sayuri watched the whole exchange with intense curiosity, all the while trying to make herself look like she was focussed on the display in front of her. As Mordecai's liaison, she was getting to see parts of the ship which she had barely set foot in before. Today he was assigned to engineering, a prospect Sayuri had been apprehensive about, knowing the Chief Engineer's somewhat impatient temperament and dislike for strangers fiddling in her engine room. In hindsight though, she probably should have guessed that Mordecai would be a natural with the warp core, just like he seemed to be with everything else. B'Elanna was seemingly taking it in her stride. Sayuri had heard all sorts of horror stories about the half-Klingon's clashes with Seven over just about everything, and had hoped that B'Elanna wouldn't take Mordecai's suggestions the wrong way. For whatever reason however, the woman's famed belligerent attitude seemed to be on holiday today, and she was all smiles as she talked over the finer points of warp-field dynamics with the latest star on engineering.
To tell the truth, Sayuri was beginning to feel tiny prickles of jealousy. She had no real engineering experience herself, and couldn't contribute in any meaningful way to the discussion. In fact, she'd been relegated to a console several metres away, doing some mundane task she was almost sure had been made up just to keep her busy. She was used to being side-lined, and wouldn't have minded so much, except for the fact that B'Elanna seemed to be taking the opportunity to cosy up to Mordecai a bit too much.
Like any department head wouldn't do the same. He's a genius; of course they want to sweet-talk him into staying.
Sayuri sighed. She knew she was acting like a moody schoolgirl, but she couldn't help but feel a bit possessive of Mordecai. In her mind, she had been the first person he had really socialised with, and she had also been the first to truly observe his talents; something which gave them a special bond, or so she thought. It also didn't help that she had a major crush on him which showed no signs of disappearing any time soon.
Perhaps it's for the best. She thought sadly. The sooner he finds other people to be with, the sooner I can forget about that hopeless idea.
A shrill whistle sounded over the comm, signalling the end of the current rotation. After a brief bout of shaking hands, and exchanging promises to meet up for drinks and pool on the holodeck sometime, Mordecai extracted himself from the engineering crew and headed over to where Sayuri was powering down her console.
"Is all well?" he enquired.
"It is now," Oh god, why did I say that? "I-I mean I'll be glad to head back to my quarters…it's been a long day."
"A curious expression," Mordecai observed as they began to wind their way through Voyager's corridors. "Do humans perceive the passage of time differently depending on the activity they're performing?"
"It sometimes feels that way," Sayuri mumbled.
They walked in silence for a bit before Mordecai spoke again.
"I have noticed…your voice; it is different from the others."
"Is it?" Sayuri squeaked, suddenly very self-conscious. "W-What do you mean?"
"The intonation, the syllables you stress. It is more than simply a genetic variation in vocal cords."
"D-Do you mean my accent?" Sayuri sincerely hoped he did, otherwise she could add the way she spoke to the list of things embarrassing things about herself.
"Ah, yes, that is the appropriate word," Mordecai considered her for a second. "From where do you hail?"
"Japan," the young woman replied, about to add more before she realised that Mordecai would have already accessed the relevant database entries.
"Earth. North Atlantic. Island off the east coast of Asia. One moment," Mordecai's head twitched slightly as he thought. "I see."
"See what?"
"Earth's culture is comprised of many sub-units, each originally possessing distinct linguistic differences."
Sayuri stopped in her tracks, staring at Mordecai.
"Did…did you just…?" she whispered, stumbling slightly over words she had almost forgotten how to say.
"You do speak Japanese, don't you?" Mordecai replied, puzzled.
"I-I do. Just not for a…well, a very long time. I only ever spoke it with my parents."
"Oh," Mordecai said, returning to English. "In that case I will desist."
"No!" Sayuri cried quickly. "No. It's okay. I-I like it."
Hearing it again, after all these years…it made Sayuri feel close to home in a way she hadn't ever experienced since arriving in the delta quadrant. It was ironic, perhaps, that this reminder came from a being even more lost than she was.
Mordecai smiled, and Sayuri recalled the first time she had seen him do it; the expression had been strange, and slightly alien. Now though, it seemed as natural as if it was anyone else. She wondered if it was because now she was attracted to him, or if he was simply learning to emulate humans better the longer he was on board.
All too soon, they were stood outside the door to her quarters, and Sayuri was faced with an awkward choice. On the one hand, she wanted to run and hide under the blankets in her bedroom and never come out. The closer she got to Mordecai, the more and more paralysed with fear she became that she would do something to scare him off. On the other hand, she desperately wanted him to stay. There was so much he could teach her; so many things he had seen and done and she had only begun to scratch the surface with her hesitant inquiries. She remembered the previous night, when he had stopped by to power her replicator. He hadn't stayed long, but even in that short space of time, she had learnt so much. She would have stayed up all night just listening to him talk, if he would allow it.
Was there really any chance for him and her? For the little pipe dream she'd constructed in her mind? She supposed she'd never know unless she did something about it. Being proactive and forward were definitely not Sayuri's strong suits, but trying had to be better than clinging to hope until it was inevitably snatched away from her by circumstances beyond her control.
"W-Would…um," Sayuri felt rather faint, and found it impossible to do anything other than stare at her fidgeting hands, which were noticeably trembling. It was pointless to hope that Mordecai wouldn't see, he picked up on everything; she just hoped he didn't know what it meant. "Do you want…I mean, you d-don't have to, but, um…"
Mordecai laid a hand on her shoulder. For someone strong enough to effortlessly throw a fully grown man across a room, he was surprisingly gentle.
"Yes, I would. Come on, I'll make you that dish you like."
"I…" Sayuri could barely hear herself over her own racing heart as she followed Mordecai inside. "...thank you."
Thank you for noticing me.
"Ensign Mordecai, come in," the Captain's voice abruptly cut through on the comm.
"This is Mordecai," the metal man acknowledged, tapping his communicator. "Go ahead."
"I want to see you in my ready room. Is Ensign Yoshida with you at the moment?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Good, bring her too. Janeway out."
Sayuri felt her blood run cold as her feelings about the evening shifted from hopeful optimism to a foreboding dread. Being summoned by the Captain could mean any number of things, but the only reason she could think of was to discuss the incident in the mess hall yesterday. She had hoped that giving their report to Tuvok would be the end of the matter, but apparently that wasn't the case.
"It looks like your meal will have to wait," Mordecai said, frowning.
As they retraced their steps and headed for the turbolift, Sayuri felt like a prisoner being led to execution. She didn't understand how Mordecai could be so calm, especially as any anger the Captain had would undoubtedly be directed mainly at him for striking Ensign Baker. Surely Tuvok had told Janeway it had been in self-defence, right? Right?
They were nearly at the lifts when Voyager suddenly lurched violently. Sayuri stumbled, grunting as she impacted heavily with the wall. She would have fallen completely if she hadn't hastily grabbed Mordecai's arm. He didn't stagger at all, standing in place as if there had been no movement whatsoever.
"What the..?" Sayuri began as Voyager shuddered again. She could sense the ship accelerating beneath her feet, changing course rapidly. Quickly, before another tremor could plant her on her backside, she ran to the end of the corridor, gripping the bulkhead firmly for support. Out of the window, she could see the stars racing past as Voyager turned on the spot. Then, they were blotted out, as a colossal shape obscured them from view. There was a ship just off Voyager's starboard bow, and Sayuri recognised the gunmetal grey pipework and sickly green glow almost immediately. It was a design all the members of the crew were familiar with, although they really wished they weren't.
Klaxons sounded, and the corridor lights dimmed, replaced with the flashing warning signs of a general red alert and call to battle stations.
"What is it?" Mordecai asked, eyeing the craft outside with an incongruously passive interest. "An unusual shape…cubic in design."
Sayuri opened her mouth to reply, but was drowned out by a voice which sounded from every speaker simultaneously. It was cold and mechanical, like hearing something dead which had been brought partially back to life.
"We are the Borg. Existence as you know it is over. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Resistance is futile."
"We're caught in the slipspace wake!" Tom shouted over the sound of alarm bells and sparking consoles as he desperately tried to wrestle Voyager back onto a steady course. "Hold on to something, this is going to be bumpy!"
Janeway half sat, half fell back into her chair. On the viewscreen, the stars blurred past in a dizzying acrobatic display as Voyager tumbled end over end. Occasionally, a brief glimpse of a dark green shape reminded her that it was indeed the Borg who they were about to face. Cursing silently, she wondered how on Earth the Cube had managed to get the drop on them.
It had come out of nowhere. She'd just asked Ensigns Mordecai and Yoshida to report to the bridge when the Borg vessel had burst out of slipspace directly in front of them and begun closing at an alarming speed. Were it not for Tom's remarkable piloting ability, they would have crashed headlong into it. As it was, they'd missed the Cube by less than a kilometre, and the roiling energies of the advanced propulsion system the Borg used were now tossing Voyager about like an ocean-faring skip in a hurricane.
Janeway clasped the arms of her chair tightly, knuckles white. Of all the hostile races they'd encountered in their travels, there were none more dangerous, more powerful, or more relentless than the Borg. Every time their paths crossed, it was a brush with death, and each time they had only barely escaped with their lives, Looking around, she could see that the rest of her staff were having similar thoughts, although all of them retained their composure. Even Harry Kim, the most comparatively green amongst them, stayed focused on his console, his fear only showing as a noticeable tremor in his hands.
As Tom managed to regain some semblance of control, Janeway heard the sound of the turbolift door opening. Glancing back over her shoulder, she saw Seven of Nine, primly collecting herself off the floor of the lift where she had apparently been thrown when the ship was flipped. The Captain's heart skipped a beat when she saw the bright crimson of blood on the blonde woman's forehead, but it quickly became apparent that it was just a minor scratch; nothing serious.
Thank god.
"Report," Janeway barked, returning her attention to the Cube on the viewscreen, which was coming around for another pass at them.
"Minor injuries on all decks. No fatalities," Tuvok replied. It was something, but Janeway knew this was only the beginning.
"All systems online," Harry chimed in, his voice shaking ever so slightly, "although that close call knocked off about 20% of our shields."
"Evasive manoeuvres," the Captain ordered. "Don't let them get a lock on us with their holding beam. Tom, if you see an opportunity to break away cleanly, take it."
"No need to tell me twice!" Tom yelled, already keying in the commands. Voyager strafed to one side just as a focused shaft of green light shot from the Cube, sweeping the space they had occupied a second earlier.
"Attack pattern gamma," Janeway said, her calm, steely voice belying the panic she hid just beneath the surface. "Tuvok, target their tractor beam emitters and weapons systems."
As a starship Captain with almost unparalleled experience dealing with the Borg, Janeway knew that Voyager was no match for a Cube. A single Borg ship could take on an armada and still emerge victorious, and their decentralised systems allowed them to sustain catastrophic damage and continue functioning. The only hope for her ship and her crew was to escape, and that meant crippling their enemy's means of pursuit.
It was a desperate gamble at best. Every other time they had faced the Borg, they'd had some kind of edge; circumstances were in their favour, or she possessed a bargaining chip she could use to her advantage. This time, though, it was a straight-up confrontation; the kind which had decimated an entire Federation fleet at Wolf 359. Janeway tried not to dwell on that sobering thought. There were always ways to tip the scales, she just had to find them.
One advantage of facing the Borg over other species, like the Hirogen, was that the Collective would not destroy them so long as they believed there was a chance of assimilating them instead. It was hardly a silver lining, but it meant that they had a bit more time than they might have had otherwise. Of course, they stood even less of a chance in shipboard combat. Borg drones were practically immune to all but their most powerful weapons, and a Cube carried enough of them to simply flood her tiny vessel with overwhelming numbers.
Janeway rose from her chair, her eyes coming to rest on Seven, who now occupied the aft tactical station. The Borg woman was even paler than she had been in the cargo bay earlier, and the way she remained utterly fixated on her display was an indication of the terror she must have been feeling inside. Janeway's heart went out to the young drone, and she wished she could do something to reassure her, even if it was just a comforting pat on the shoulder…but she knew that it was neither the time nor the place. The best she could do for Seven now was to be the Captain, and guide them all safely through this encounter.
I won't let them take her. Not again.
Explosions resonated off the port hull; the Borg had opened fire. It was a standard tactic: limit the opposing vessel's manoeuvrability long enough to snag them with a holding beam, or alternatively, disable their engines.
"We are the Borg. You will be assimilated. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
"Someone turn that damn thing off!" Janeway shouted. "Tuvok, are we in range?"
"Firing now, Captain."
Blazing streaks of orange light lanced from the small Intrepid-class ship, splashing across the Cube's shields and having about as much effect as rain on concrete. They were followed, however, by a salvo of torpedoes, which detonated with deadly force against the enemy vessel's hull. Small plumes of debris drifted lazily away into space, but the Cube was otherwise unharmed, and continued its relentless advance. Another beam erupted from its surface, this one designed to cut rather than capture. It clipped Voyager's defences, rocking the ship ominously.
"Shields down to 48%, Captain," an alarmed Harry called out.
"Take us in to 300 metres, Tom," Janeway ordered. "Their weapons will have a harder time tracking us at close range."
"Aye ma-ahhhhh!" the pilot cried out in surprise and pain as another hit caused something in his console to blow, sending sparks and shrapnel in all directions. He was blasted backwards out of his chair by the force of the localised explosion, crumpling to the deck. Janeway could only spare a moment to assess his condition as she rushed to take his place. It looked like he had been thrown clear of the worst of it, but he was definitely out for the count.
"Re-route helm control!" she bellowed. To her left, Chakotay was already ordering two junior officers to get Tom to sickbay
The delay cost them. Without Tom manually inputting navigational commands to throw the Borg off, Voyager maintained its heading for a brief moment; an easy trajectory to predict for a mechanically minded species. Like the tendrils of some mythical serpent, holding beams lashed the tiny ship, quickly draining its remaining shield before affixing to the hull.
"The Cube has locked on a tractor beam." Seven stated. Her voice was dull and inflectionless, but Janeway could hear every roiling emotion it concealed. After all, Seven had more reason than any of them to fear the Borg.
No. They can't have her. Not this time.
Voyager groaned as it was brought to a halt. Janeway knew what was coming next, and felt strangely numb at the prospect. To think that just minutes ago, she had been joking with Chakotay about the upcoming personnel reports, and now they had mere seconds to prepare for a full-scale invasion. There wasn't even enough time to dwell on how hopelessly outmatched they were, something which she was glad of, truthfully. Stopping to think about how desperate the situation had suddenly become would not be productive at all.
"Have the replicators dispense emergency phasers," she said, relying on her training to speak the words for her, before opening a ship-wide comm channel. "All hands, this the Captain. Prepare for boarding on all decks. Retrieve weapons from the nearest locker if you can, or the nearest replicator if you can't. Your primary objective is to stop the Borg from gaining a foothold on Voyager. Protect engineering and sickbay at all costs. Good luck everyone, and give them hell. Janeway out."
"Captain!" Seven cried, and Janeway turned to see the swirling green energies of a Borg transporter signal right behind her. She darted to one side as the drone materialised, and Chakotay took the opportunity to blast it squarely in the back with a phaser he'd retrieved from the secret compartment in the command chair. The Borg collapsed, implants twitching, and dematerialised as quickly as it had appeared.
"They will target the most vital systems and personnel first," Seven stated, face ashen. "Their initial aim is to disrupt the ship's functionality before sending across the main force of drones to begin assimilation."
"Then we'd better be ready," Janeway growled. "Grab a weapon."