Collective Interest

Source Episode: VOY 4x1 Scorpion pt. 2

The bridge staff waited nervously for any sign of how the negotiations were going. It had only been about a minute since the Borg transported Captain Janeway to the cube nearest us, but it seemed like an eternity. Their tractor beam still hummed against our shields as it tethered our ship to theirs, keeping us all in a precarious state of limbo.

Seconds later, my console beeped in warning. "Commander, th—" Before I could get the words out, an explosion on the cube rattled Voyager. Flames flashed from the top of the cube briefly, then were snuffed out as they escaped into space. A small bio-ship zoomed past us on its way towards the Borg planet.

Chakotay cursed and jumped out of his chair. "Where the hell did that ship come from?"

"A quantum singularity just opened about twenty thousand kilometers ahead," I answered.

"The cube's shields are weakening," Harry reported. "We may be able to break free of the tractor beam, but I can't get a lock on the captain yet."

"I've got nine more bio-ships coming out of the singularity," I called, "headed straight for the planet."

"Confirmed," Mike Ayala announced from tactical. "They're charging weapons." With a tone of shock, he added, "Sir, they're targeting the Borg planet."

Chakotay ordered Harry to switch to aft imagers. We watched in horror as the bio-ships linked their weapons to the central ship, funneling their energy into one large beam that destabilized the planet at its core. Voyager jolted when the cube jumped to warp, fleeing the doomed world just before it exploded.

"The bio-ships are not pursuing, sir," Mike reported.

"Commander," Harry said, "the cube is hailing us."

The bridge fell silent as several emotions flashed across Chakotay's face. He quickly schooled his features into neutrality, then ordered Harry to open a channel.

Captain Janeway appeared on the view screen, her countenance already full of strain. "Commander, I've reached an agreement with the collective. We're going to help them design a weapon against Species 8472 and, in exchange, they've granted us safe passage through their space. We'll work on the weapon en route. Once we're across their territory, we'll give them the nanoprobes. I'll be working here, on the cube, and I want you to have Lieutenant Ayala and Crewman Ghemor transport to my location to assist me."

Chakotay stiffened. "Kathryn, you can't be serious."

"I'm quite serious, Chakotay," she confirmed. "Miss Ghemor has extensive knowledge on weapons technology, as well as innovative engineering ideas. I need her expertise. I also want Lt. Commander Eelo to transport here with them. She'll be the liaison between our two ships."

The muscles in his jaw bulged with tension, but there was no point in fighting her. "Aye, Captain," he said through gritted teeth.

"Where are they taking us?" Iliana asked as four drones escorted us through the corridors of the cube.

"Grid nine-two of sub junction twelve—our very own workspace," Janeway replied. "It's near the center of the cube."

"Captain," I said, mustering up a slight smile, "I have some good news. Just before I left, Schmullis and Kes administered the first dose of Tuvok's treatment."

Her head swiveled towards me, her eyes lit with a spark of hope I hadn't seen in days. "And?"

"It worked just like the simulations. He'll be healthy again by the end of the day."

She gave a great sigh of relief, allowing herself a small but genuine smile. "That is good news, Commander. Thank you."

"That's not all," I continued, handing her a PADD that I had brought with me. "Sam Wildman and I analyzed the tricorder data I collected from the bio-ship, and we compared it to Kes' analysis of the alien tissue from Tuvok's chest wounds. The cellular structures are almost identical."

She skimmed over my report. "They're made of the same organic material."

"Then their ships will be just as vulnerable to the modified nanoprobes as they are," Iliana concluded.

Janeway's demeanor shifted. She squared her shoulders and set her features with stony confidence. For her, any last vestiges of insecurity in the mission fell away. This would work. "What we have is no longer just a defensive strategy against the aliens; now, it is a way to stand against both their soldiers and their fleets. That will be our weapon."

The drones led us to a moderately-sized laboratory, then turned to face us. "You have entered grid nine-two of sub junction twelve," they said in unison.

Janeway lifted her chin defiantly as she glared at the drones. Her distaste for the situation was clear. Still, she acknowledged the their cooperation and turned to examine the room.

"Captain," Mike offered, "I think we should consider a large-scale delivery system for the modified nanoprobes."

"Yes," Iliana agreed. "A charge that would infect their ships and destroy them at the microscopic level. We'd never even have to face the aliens themselves, though we should still be ready with some kind of disruptor weapon in case of man-to-man combat."

Janeway nodded. "Agreed. What if we encased the nanoprobes inside one of—"

Suddenly, the drones approached us from behind, grabbing us by the shoulders and forcing us to our knees.

"What the hell is going on?" Iliana barked.

"A neural transceiver is required for maximum communication," the drones answered. "The link is temporary. You will not be damaged."

"That wasn't the agreement," Janeway reminded them. "We prefer to communicate verbally."

"Your primitive communication is inefficient," they replied, attaching transceivers to our necks. "We will work as one mind."

"Unacceptable," I said, adopting their parlance. "It is in your own interests to leave our individuality intact."

"Elaborate," they demanded.

"Species 8472 is unique, and it will require a unique course of action to defeat them. If you assimilate our minds into the collective consciousness, we will lose our ability to innovate new technologies and combat strategies, and the war will be lost."

They didn't reply.

"What about choosing a representative?" Janeway asked. "A single Borg we can work with and talk to directly."

"Elaborate," the drones repeated,

"You've done it before—when you transformed Jean-Luc Picard into Locutus."

Still no response.

"We will not be assimilated," Janeway ground out. "Choose a representative or the deal's off.

The silence lingered for a long, tense moment before the drones released us and moved away. A door to an adjacent corridor opened, revealing a tall, female drone regenerating inside of an alcove. The alcove released her into wakefulness, and she stepped across the threshold towards us with absolute confidence.

Her lone voice was clear and cold. "I speak for the Borg."

"How are things going on the cube?" Chakotay inquired as he and I sat down together in Janeway's ready room.

"They're being very pushy," I said, "as is their way. But, the captain is immovable."

He quirked his lips ever-so-slightly. "As is her way."

I rested my hand on his arm. "She'll get us through this, Tay."

He nodded. After a few seconds, a concerned look crossed his face as he became aware of the small, reoccurring spasms in my hand.

I pulled away and gave a rueful smile. "I'm getting too old to handle all the caffeine I drink," I joked.

At that he lightened up a little, shaking his head at my ludicrous excuse. "Are you really going to complain to me about your age, young woman? Even if you were anywhere near as old as I am, you'd still outlive me by fifty years."

"Don't be too hard on yourself," I teased. "You still put up a decent fight on the hoverball court. Plus, ever since you started coloring those grays, you don't look a day over forty-four."

He chuckled, letting our light-hearted banter hang in the air for a few peaceful moments before getting back to business. "You said something about a Borg representative?"

"Yes. Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix zero-one. Initially, they wanted to link us into the hive mind with neural transceivers so we could work together more efficiently, but we convinced them that it was in their best interests for us to retain our individuality."

He shuddered at the memory of being in a collective consciousness.

I continued. "As a compromise, they assigned Seven of Nine to be their spokesperson."

"What can you tell me about her?"

"Seven of Nine is eloquent, but direct. She was Terran before she was assimilated, but that was eighteen years ago. No part of her believes she is anything now but Borg."

His eyes widened with shock. "Eighteen years?"

"That's what she told the captain."

"But, that's nine years before the Borg raids near the Romulan Neutral Zone. How is that possible?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. She cut off the conversation before Captain Janeway could get any further. But, it seems the collective has managed to solve the problem they had when they assimilated Captain Picard. Somehow, Seven of Nine can think both individually and collectively without having any conflict between the two. Perhaps she became a true believer in Borg philosophy, and submits herself to the collective willingly."

He shook his head and let out a slow breath. "You've seen everything in the database about the Borg, including the classified files?"

I nodded. "After you found that corpse on Sakara, Captain Janeway gave me clearance, and I've been studying them ever since. Actually, I first read several of the pre-contact reports in grad school, though that was before Starfleet officially confirmed that the Neutral Zone raids and the Arctic Circle incident were the same species that decimated El-Aurian."

"You read those in grad school?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes, in one of my deep space track courses. Actually, the Enterprise made first contact with the Borg that very semester, thanks to Q. The department had to rewrite their whole unit on cybernetically-augmented species because of it."

"I didn't think Starfleet briefed anyone about the Borg until Picard started getting pushy about it."

"There were a few graduate programs that offered courses in unique deep space encounters. Sociology, pre-med, and tactical ops all had one. They were highly selective in who they enrolled in those classes. We all had to pass certain clearance assessments and sign non-disclosure agreements. But, deep space counselors are regularly on the front lines of developing new diplomatic relationships, and it's difficult to analyze the behavior of a species when you have no basis for comparison. Starfleet wanted us to be prepared before sending us out on the frontier."

"Is there anything I should know about the behavior of the Borg on this cube?"

"I didn't notice anything unexpected, given the unique circumstances," I said. "They don't understand the value of creative thinking, they are frustrated that people so clearly inferior to them have found a solution where they themselves have failed, and they don't trust us. It's a tense relationship. But, we always knew it would be. So far, they seem to be holding up their end of the agreement."

"What do you think they'll do if we're attacked by Species 8472?" Chakotay inquired with concern. "Would they leave us behind to save themselves?"

I quirked an eyebrow and lifted my chin. "Not while we have the nanoprobes they need."

Back on the cube, I relayed an update to Captain Janeway while Seven of Nine listened. I informed her first of Tuvok's successful recovery, which brought a smile to her lips that briefly lightened the darkness in her eyes.

Then I reported on our progress. "I've reassigned two science labs to the tasks of replicating and prepping nanoprobes. All Schmullis has to handle is the modifications. I estimate we can complete several hundred billion per day."

Janeway nodded. "Good work, Commander."

"Your process is inefficient," said Seven of Nine. "A single photonic lifeform alone cannot modify a sufficient number of nanoprobes to defend against billions of bio-ships. You must assign more individuals to the task."

"Actually," I replied, fixing my eyes on the drone, "Commander Chakotay and I have assigned both of the ship's doctors to perform the modifications."

"Insufficient. You will assign more."

"We will do as we see fit," Janeway responded defiantly.

Seven of Nine's chin jutted out slightly as she eyed Janeway with disdain. "You delay your task because you think it will save you. If species 8472 attacks, how do you propose to resist without an effective weapon?"

"We're not across your space yet," Janeway reminded her. "Our ability to instantly destroy the research is our only guarantee that you won't assimilate us. The more widely disseminated that research is, the harder it will be to destroy. I won't risk it."

"Are you willing to risk a confrontation with us?" the drone threatened. "If we transport five hundred drones onto your vessel, do you believe you could offer sufficient resistance?"

"Don't get ambitious," I warned her. "The medical storage room is guarded and rigged. Dr. Schmullis has full control over his program. Dr. Kes is inhabited by a non-corporeal, extra-dimensional entity who can shield Kes' mind from any kind of intrusion—including a Borg neuroelectric field. If you assimilate us, you will lose everything. Are you willing to risk that?"

Seven of Nine glared at us, then tilted her head. "That won't be necessary." She turned towards Mike and Iliana, who were pretending not to eavesdrop as they tweaked the final design for the high-yield torpedoes. "We must construct a launching system to accommodate this design." Pivoting back towards us, she added, "On both ships."

All eyes went to Janeway, wondering if she would accept this compromise. The agreement had been that the weapon would be built on the cube, and that Voyager would turn over the nanoprobes after we reached the other side of Borg territory. We never intended to enter the war ourselves.

However, 8472 was not ignorant of our presence. They knew Kes was on Voyager, which was the only non-Borg ship in the region. They also knew that she was blocking them out telepathically. Even though the block meant they couldn't pinpoint our location, we all knew that it was only a matter of time until they got lucky and found us anyway.

Finally, Janeway nodded. "Alright."

"We will transport a contingent of drones to your vessel to make the necessary modifications," Seven of Nine said.

Janeway's eyes narrowed. "You may transport four drones to assist my crew in the modifications, just as we did."

"Insufficient. We must make the modifications as quickly as possible. The task requires at least fifty drones to complete efficiently."

"Irrelevant," Janeway said. "We will not be invaded. If you transport more than four drones onto my ship, I will have the research and the nanoprobes destroyed."

Seven of Nine stepped directly in front of Janeway, towering over the captain by several inches. "If you destroy the nanoprobes, you will be assimilated."

Janeway stepped even closer still, undeterred. "Then we will all die together."

The two adversaries stood nose to nose for several seconds as the collective spoke their will in the mind of their avatar. Finally, stepping back, the drone amended her terms. "Once we complete a design for the launching system, we will transport ten drones to Voyager's outer hull to assist with the installation of our technology on your vessel. I will accompany you aboard your vessel to coordinate the drones in their tasks. You will comply."

Janeway raised her chin, giving the drone a look that could have made a Klingon warrior feel dwarfed by the trim woman. Then, just once, she nodded.

With that settled, I laid out one term of my own. "We can begin first thing in the morning, but right now, we require sleep."

I had intentionally phrased my statement as a demand rather than a suggestion, knowing that I needed to be just as bull-headed as the two women before me. I was prepared to pull command relief protocol if Janeway tried to argue, but I had gambled that she wouldn't. She knew as well as I did that it was better to show the Borg a strong and unified front. Still, I couldn't help but wonder how she might make me pay for my little act of insubordination. Better to apologize later, I supposed.

Janeway's jaw muscles flinched. She hated putting off work for such trivial things as eating and sleeping, and the idea of leaving the Borg to their own devices all night was unnerving. Yet, she did not argue. When she lifted an eyebrow at Seven of Nine, wordlessly demanding the collective's reply, I knew my gamble had paid off.

"Very well," the drone said. "You may return to your vessel."