She was both the observer and the observed, like a dream where one watches one's own actions while at the same time playing them out. Except this was no dream, rather memories from millenia past...

Dr. Torra Joral sat at her microscope, peering into it at the cell sample she had taken. She inserted the tip of a micro-probe into one of the cells and extraced the nucleus. Once removed, she took the probe to another station and inserted the tip into a scanner and activated the display. On the display was shown a partial abstract of the DNA in the nucleus.

"There, you see?" she asked those with her in the lab.

"This is the sample taken from the Rysta we captured?" a man in a uniform asked.

"Yes, but do you see it?"

"I'm not a scientist, Doctor," was the reponse.

Joral sighed and turned to her interns, "You see it though, yes?"

"Yes, Doctor," replied the most promising of them, "the coding has slight variations."

"Good, and what does that tell you?"

"That they are not of our species," the intern replied.

"Very good," Dr. Joral said, then turned back to the man in uniform. "General, you asked me to help the Patrarch find proof of the claims his administration has been making that the Rysta are a lesser race. Here it is."

The Patrarch's chief general had approached Joral at her office less than a month ago. He asked for her help, as the country's leading specialist in genetics (one of her many specialties), to find proof that the Rysta were inferior to the Borg. Rysta was not only a rival nation of the planet, but also—according to Joral's newly discovered information—it's population was of another race. The Rysta and Borg were similar in appearance, but not equal. The Borg had neck ridges and a high cranial peak lending to a tall forehead. The Rysta's neck ridges were less pronounced, but longer, and their cranial peak was lower than Borg. Those were just a few examples.

In return for her assistance, the Patrarch promised her prominence and power as the chief scientist of his administration. She had accepted without hesitation, but not for the reasons that either the general or Patrarch would expect.

"This is what shows that they are a weaker species than the Borg?" The general asked, bringing Joral back from her reverie.

"Yes," she responded, not pointing out that he had just repeated what she said. Pointing to the highlighted genetic coding, she elaborated "these sequences explain why they are generally smaller than us, less adept physically, and with less prominent facial features."

The general seemed satisfied, and said, "I want you to prepare a presentation for the council meeting next week, showing your conclusions to the ministers, the Patrarch will also be in attendance. This will ensure they accept his proposal."

"I serve the Patrarch in all things," Joral said proudly, excited by the chance she'd been given. People like the general only cared about what science could give them, not the intelligence of those people behind it. All scientists craved acknowledgement of their intelligence, they also enjoyed proving their worth. This gave her an opportunity to do both. Then, and more importantly, she would have the position she needed to finally continue her work.

"As do we all, Doctor," the general said before turning and leaving the room with his entourage.

The presentation had gone off without a hitch.

Dr. Joral had broken it down to the simplist verbage she could, catering to the lacking inteligence of the politicians and soldiers in the coucil chambers. None of them had anywhere near the understanding of the work she did than that of her slowest undergraduate student. She did not hold it against them, much—they were the means by which she would get the funding for the work that was her passion. Besides, she believed in the cause of the state.

After she had finished her presentation, the Patrarch had thanked her, then replaced her at the podium.

"This is the time to act, gentlemen," he told the crowd. "We have suffered their interference, their deceptions, even their presence in our land. Now we have proof that they are weakening us from the inside. Every one of them that procreates with one of us, weakens our race as a whole. They threaten us with their very existence! Will we allow that?!"

There were shouts and protests from around the council chambers as those in favor of war stood. It was the same speech, essentially, that the Patrarch had been giving for years. His hatred of the Rysta was well known to everyone who heard him speak, and the words he used and passion he put behind them had turned a great many Borg to his cause. His following had grown so much that he had easily risen through the political ranks until he had been called into the office of Patrarch.

"No!," the Patrarch screamed into the microphone, now able to achieve his ultimate goal. "I ask the members of this council to support my resolution to end this threat...to purge the world of the seditiousness and maliciousness that threaten every one of the proud race of Borg! I ask...no...I demand the members of this council to vote yes on the resolution to declare war against the Rysta!"

The risen members of the council applauded, cheered, howled their approval of the Patrarch's declaration of war. Meanwhile, Joral, while also cheering, was celebrating that her work would surely continue, funded by a war she helped begin.

Dr. Torra Joral celebrated with the other scientists of her field. The news came as a public announcement from the government in which she worked just a few minutes ago: the war was over, they had won. Now her work could continue without interference from her nation's enemies.

And it was important work, even the leader of that nation, the Patrarch, had told her so. Finding those people of her world, Rysta-Borg, who carried the inferior genes that made them weak, and ensuring they did not spread them through procreation amongst her own people. The Rysta nation had been full of them, and they had taken exception to her Borg nation's attempt to sterilize them.

That had sparked a war, a war now over.

"We will begin the great work again," said the Patrarch as we addressed the unified world, "we will purge that which makes us weak, and excel to the goal of one master race that shall live forever!"

There were cheers all around her lab from those who worked with her to acheive that goal.